#I say science like that leads back into the conversation of Is UNIT doing science or military

[regicidal-defenestration]

Doylist explanation: points about how UNIT is being treated this series aside, Doctor Who is very much a family show, and children in the audience, particularly trans children, BAME children, and disabled children, need to see themselves on television in white/cis/abled/male dominated fields like science. It makes sense to have Rose Noble and Morris Gibbons at UNIT

Watsonian explanation: Mrs Flood is a space investigator sent to shut down UNIT for potential violations of child labour laws

[cressidagrey]

System Failure - Chapter 7: Spielberg

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Dr. Anastasia "Ana" Wolff (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen to Mercedes? The paddock is buzzing. The media’s in meltdown.

Dr. Anastasia “Ana” Wolff, Mercedes’ notoriously brilliant, emotionally unavailable lead systems engineer and Toto Wolff’s eldest daughter, is not handling it well.  Because Max isn’t just a potential signing, he’s the man she’s been sleeping with in secret for nearly a decade.

And if the rumours are true, and Max Verstappen really is joining Mercedes, then Ana’s carefully compartmentalised world is about to explode.

Warnings and Notes: George Russell Bashing. Questionable Engineering Science...also Questionable work ethic. Difficult Family relationships. Toto tries his best. Also definitely NSFW in the latter part. If you want to skip that, just skip the second part of the hotel room scene. Let me know if I missed something else, and I'll add it!

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max:I am NOT okay.

GP:…Hi Max FP1 ended seven minutes ago.

Max:It felt like SEVEN YEARS Simon Rennie is my race engineer I am in hell

GP:He’s literally one of the most experienced race engineers on the grid

Max:He asked me if I wanted “a little update” on sector deltas. A little update, GP. Like it was a bedtime story

GP:You’ve been spoiled by my deadpan sarcasm and chronic exhaustion He’s just being polite

Max:I told him I had understeer in Turn 3 and he said, “interesting, let’s explore that” EXPLORE IT, GP. Like it’s a feelings journal

GP:Okay now I’m laughing Did he ask if the car felt “supported in its journey”?

Max:He asked if I “felt listened to” by the front suspension in the briefing

GP:That’s therapy, Max You’re in therapy now

Max:I WANT MY GRUMPY ENGINEER BACK Simon offered me breathing room in the push lap debrief

GP:I offer you silence so I don’t say something legally actionable

Max:Exactly That’s love

GP:You’ll survive Simon is excellent And I’m currently being emotionally held hostage by extended family in Sicily

Max:I’ll trade you You take the steering wheel. I’ll go sit through your aunt’s PowerPoint about second cousins I’ve never met

GP:You say that like she didn’t actually do a PowerPoint

Max:I hate everything

GP:I’ll be back in Silverstone Don’t burn the garage down in the meantime

Max:Only if Simon tells me to "explore my throttle response" again Then no promises

***

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 28 June 2025

Kimi hadn’t meant to overhear.

He was just trying to find the second espresso machine in the Mercedes hospitality unit—the one that didn’t taste like burnt regret—when he turned a corner and walked straight into the uncomfortable silence that followed one of George Russell’s compliments.

Ana Wolff stood by the wall, arms folded, expression neutral. Neutral for her meant: seconds away from tearing someone's logic apart with nothing but sharp vowels and sharper facts. Her blonde braid was still damp from the rain earlier. She looked tired. Or maybe just… done.

George, meanwhile, was smiling the way he did in sponsor meetings. Bright. Polished. Off.

“I just think you’d get through to people more if you weren’t so—" he paused, searching for a word that wouldn't make him sound like a prick, but ultimately failing, “robotic.”

Kimi froze.

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re brilliant, obviously,” George added quickly, “but you know, a little warmth wouldn’t hurt. People say you’re cold. Unfeeling. I’m just saying—it wouldn’t kill you to show something human every now and then.”

Kimi felt his jaw tense.

Ana wasn’t cold. Even if she hadn’t spent hours explaining maths to him, he’d seen her in enough briefings, caught the tail ends of conversations with her younger brother Jack, watched her in the garage, silently placing a steadying hand on a junior engineer’s back when they were panicking under pressure.

She wasn’t cold.

She just didn’t perform softness for people who hadn’t earned it.

“You think I don’t have feelings?” Ana asked, voice low.

George chuckled, like they were having a joke between friends. “I think you could show them a bit more. It’s not a bad thing, Ana. People would probably like you more.”

And that’s when Kimi had to physically turn away.

Because what the hell.

Had George missed every single interaction Ana had with Jack? The way she softened around him without even realizing it? The way her voice changed when she talked to Susie or Toto?

No feelings?

What a load of shit.

George, Kimi realized, wasn’t just clueless.

He was trying to reshape her. As if Ana Wolff wasn’t good enough on her own. As if brilliance wasn’t enough without some palatable packaging.

Kimi backed off before they could see him, disgust twisting in his stomach.

It was weird.

Wrong.

And the worst part?

Ana didn’t even seem to realize George was flirting. She just looked vaguely annoyed, like someone had tried to explain aerodynamics using crayons.

By the time Kimi found the better espresso machine, he’d made two decisions.

George Russell was an idiot.

Ana Wolff deserved someone who didn’t want to change a single thing about her.

And maybe—just maybe—someone who actually saw her.

***

Text Messages: Kimi Antonelli & Oliver Bearman

Kimi: mate i think george is flirting with ana

Ollie: WAIT WHAT like Ana Wolff Your boss's daughter Toto "I bench drivers for less" Wolff??

Kimi: yes that ana he just told her she’d be more likeable if she stopped being “robotic” it was the most uncomfortable 45 seconds of my life and i once locked myself in the tyre blanket cabinet on accident

Ollie: HE WHAT?? bro what even is that pickup line?? “hey girl, ever considered emotional labour for MY benefit?”

Kimi: it was so creepy like she wasn’t even reacting?? just blinking at him like he was a broken wind tunnel graph

Ollie: maybe she didn’t realise has george lost his entire mind does he WANT to be demoted mid-season does he want susie to hex him

Kimi: genuinely wondering if i should warn him like. tap his shoulder and say “hey mate she builds engines that could vaporise you from 6 metres”

Ollie: or just leave a copy of respecting women 101 in his driver room with a note that says “not all cold starts are personality traits”

Kimi: 😭😭😭 i’m still creeped out he sounded like he was trying to reprogram her

Ollie: man ana wolff deserves someone who sees her brilliance and shuts up not someone trying to install firmware updates on her personality

Kimi: yeah exactly that also remind me to never ever flirt with anyone in a paddock hallway i’ve been scarred

***

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 28 June 2025

Kimi found Valtteri by the engineers’ whiteboard, squinting at tire degradation graphs like they’d personally offended him.

“Hey,” Kimi said, stepping in.

Valtteri didn’t look up. “You find the good espresso machine?”

Kimi blinked. “Yeah, but I also found George talking to Ana.”

That got Valtteri’s attention.

He glanced up. “What kind of talking?”

Kimi sat down with a groan. “The kind where he told her she’d be more likable if she wasn’t so… robotic.”

Valtteri sighed like a man who wasn’t surprised. Just tired. “Again?”

Kimi blinked. “Again?”

Valtteri nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s not the first time. Different wording. Same message.”

“Why?” Kimi asked, honestly baffled. “She’s—she’s brilliant. She’s terrifying. She’s the only one who explains aero modelling without making me feel like a moron.”

“Has been a thing for years apparently,” Valtteri said, cool as ice. “I texted Lewis about it a few weeks ago. Apparently he used to pull the same crap when they worked together. You know. Helpful suggestions. Personality notes. Stuff he’d never say to a male engineer.”

Kimi looked like he’d been force-fed gravel. “That’s gross.”

“Very,” Valtteri agreed, taking another bite of his protein bar. “Lewis said he warned him off. Twice.”

“Then why—”

“Because George thinks he’s being helpful,” Valtteri interrupted. “He doesn’t see that he’s trying to reshape her into something he finds more acceptable.”

Then Kimi muttered, “She didn’t even realize he was flirting.”

Valtteri snorted. “Of course she didn’t. She’s got an IQ higher than the wind tunnel budget and a social radar that ignores mediocrity.”

Kimi shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable. “Should we… tell Toto?”

Valtteri looked at him. Really looked. Then exhaled. “And say what? ‘Dear Team Principal, one of your drivers is trying to negg your daughter into dating him’?”

Kimi grimaced. “Okay, yeah, that sounds bad.”

“I mean,” Valtteri added, “Toto probably already suspects something. But if we bring it up directly, he’s either going to overreact or say it’s none of our business.”

“But it feels like our business,” Kimi said. 

Valtteri was quiet for a moment. Then nodded. “Alright. I’ll talk to Susie.”

Kimi blinked. “You’ll go over Toto’s head?”

“I’ll go around him,” Valtteri corrected. “She sees more than he does, anyway.”

Kimi nodded. “Thanks.”

But in the back of his mind, he made a silent vow.

Next time George tried that nonsense?

He wouldn’t just overhear it.

He’d interrupt.

***

Text Messages: Valterri Bottas & Susie Wolff

Valtteri: hey quick question

Susie: this is already ominous

Valtteri: hypothetically if someone in the team kept giving your daughter unsolicited advice on how to be more likeable like. warmer. more “human”. and also hypothetically had a history of this sort of behavior what would you do

Susie: … is this a real hypothetical or a Finnish one

Valtteri: the second kind

Susie: ah. okay. is she okay?

Valtteri: she’s fine doesn’t seem to notice it’s… not just bad advice

Susie: and no names?

Valtteri: i’d rather not yet

Susie: well. hypothetically if it were my daughter I’d probably observe first then step in quietly before her father finds out and sets something on fire

Valtteri: thought so

Susie: thanks for telling me even the Finnish way

Valtteri: you’re welcome also i owe kimi a cookie he witnessed the incident

Susie: that poor boy double the cookie minimum

***

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 29 June 2025

Ana wasn’t even supposed to be in Spielberg.

Her calendar said Brackley. Her agenda said dyno calibration and cooling systems briefings. Her soul said leave me alone, I’m busy, but the universe didn’t give a damn about logistics. 

The systems engineer caught the flu, and the universe apparently decided that Brackley’s emotionally repressed control freak needed a vacation in Spielberg.

So now she was here. On-site. Last-minute pass hanging from her lanyard, headset already beginning to dig into her temple, and a very strong desire to pretend she felt nothing at all.

Which would’ve been fine—routine, even—if Kimi Antonelli hadn’t managed to crash into another car.

Ana was watching the monitors when it happened. The monitors lit up with the chaos. The cameras cut fast—first to the lock-up, then to the contact, then to the gravel trap where two cars were motionless, carbon scattered like confetti.

Her brain registered the colours first.

Black. And Blue.

Then the commentary landed.

“And that’s Kimi Antonelli right into Max Verstappen! Huge contact—looks like the Mercedes locked up going for a late move into Remus, and both drivers are out!”

Out. On lap one.

The breath left her lungs before she could stop it.

She stood frozen, the low whine of team chatter barely registering. Someone behind her cursed softly. Another engineer asked about brake balance settings.

But all Ana could hear was the pounding of her own pulse in her ears.

The footage looped again. Max’s onboard. Tyres locking. No grip. No chance. The sound of carbon splintering. The jerking impact.

Then Max’s voice—crackling through the global feed, calm but clipped.

“I’m out. I’m fine.”

Fine.

She wasn’t supposed to see this.

Her pulse was racing too fast. She told herself it was the adrenaline of the garage. The pressure of covering another engineer’s role. The stress of a DNF affecting race strategy. Something technical. Something safe.

But it wasn’t.

It was him.

Because when she’d seen that Red Bull fly off into the gravel, it felt like something inside her had snapped forward too.

For a second—one second—she’d forgotten the protocols and the distance and the rules she’d built to keep her feelings boxed up and quiet.

All she could think was:

Please let him be okay.

Not because he was the most talented driver of a generation.

Not because she was currently building the engine he might drive next year.

Not even because he was Max.

But because he was hers—in the complicated, hidden, denial-laced way she refused to name.

She exhaled. Swallowed. Reset the telemetry. Told herself to focus.

But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

***

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 29 June 2025

Toto wasn’t paying attention to Ana at first.

The crash had been frustrating—avoidable, rookie mistake on Kimi’s end, and just unlucky for Max. Racing incident, the stewards would call it. But still. Lap 1 carnage wasn’t what Mercedes needed right now, especially with both of their cars still stuck behind McLarens and Ferraris.

He scanned the garage instinctively, looking for tells. The usual rhythm of a race weekend. And that’s when he saw her.

Anastasia.

Still in her headset, still pretending to focus on the tablet in front of her. But something was… off.

Not the usual clinical calm she wore like armor. Not the sharp-eyed, steel-spined engineer who could spot a systems fault half a second before anyone else.

She looked rattled.

Not outwardly. Not in any way most people would notice. But Toto had known her too long—had seen too many versions of her, from the Russian girl dumped on his Vienna doorstep to the almost disturbingly brilliant twenty-something with two Cambridge degrees and a spine of tungsten.

He knew what her version of shaken looked like.

Her jaw was too tight. Her eyes hadn’t left the monitors since the crash. Her hands were too still.

Toto’s brow furrowed. He stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “You all right?”

Ana blinked. Too slowly. “Fine.”

It was a lie, obviously. But Anastasia was built on precise lies like that. Contained. Polished. The kind of lies that let her survive without needing anyone.

Still, something twisted in his chest.

She’d insisted she could cover the systems position this weekend. Rolled her eyes when he’d asked if it was too much on top of the 2026 engine work. But now, watching her shoulders curve in just slightly like the weight of the world had shifted onto them…

Maybe he’d pushed too hard. Maybe she was tired.

Or maybe—he hesitated—it wasn’t about the job at all.

He thought of the way she’d asked him—no, demanded of him—how far she could go customizing the car to suit the boy’s driving style. Multitasking, she’d said, like building a whole damn power unit and simultaneously tailoring the W16 around an 18-year-old rookie was just another Tuesday for her.

And now she was frozen, staring at the crash feed like it was a personal failure.

Toto exhaled slowly. Oh.

She’d adopted him.

Not in words. Anastasia didn’t do declarations. But in that quiet, brutal way of hers—choosing someone, building around them, sharpening her brilliance into protection.

Maybe she saw something of Jack in Kimi. The age. The stubborn streak. The raw wildness that came with being too young and too talented. Jack adored her—looked at her like she was some superhero who moonlighted as a scientist.

And maybe Ana, against all her carefully constructed walls, felt that same bone-deep, helpless kind of protectiveness in reverse.

Toto looked at her, hunched over the data like she could will the boy back onto the track, and something in his chest ached.

Anastasia didn’t hand out her care easily. But when she did, it came like this. Quiet. Relentless. Unconditional.

He reached out. Not to touch, just to be there. “Anastasia,” he said softly.

Her shoulders stiffened, then eased a fraction.

“I’ll talk to him,” Toto added. “After.”

She just nodded, still staring at the telemetry, like she could build a safer world for Kimi out of numbers and torque maps if she worked hard enough.

And maybe she could.

***

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 29 June 2025

He shouldn’t be here.

He knew that.

Kimi walked toward the Red Bull hospitality like he was approaching a firing squad, cap pulled low, jaw clenched so tight it aches. People glanced at him as he passes—some with curiosity, some with sympathy, some with barely contained glee at the drama of it all.

He crashed Max Verstappen out on lap one.

Max fucking Verstappen.

He didn’t need anyone to spell it out. That incident likely cost Max even the chance at the championship. With McLaren surging and Oscar and Lando trading podiums like playing cards, Max needed every point he could get. And now… now it was almost mathematically impossible.

Because of him.

A rookie mistake. Too aggressive. Cold tires. Misjudged braking. A millisecond too late. And now the entire paddock’s talking about how Kimi Antonelli ruined Max’s season.

The Red Bull garage was winding down, most people pretending not to watch as he walked in. He asked for Max quietly, politely, like someone asking for permission to enter holy ground. One of the mechanics nodded toward the motorhome upstairs.

Kimi climbed the steps like he’s carrying stones.

Max was sitting on a low couch, still in his fireproofs, water bottle in hand, expression unreadable. No cameras. No team entourage. Just Max.

Kimi cleared his throat. “Max.”

Max looked up.

Kimi’s heart slams against his ribs.

“I—I came to say I’m sorry,” he said, words coming out in a rush. “I misjudged the braking zone. I locked up. It was my fault. I didn’t mean to take you out. I know what it means. I know you were still in the fight for the title and—”

“Kimi.”

He froze.

Max stood. Not angrily. Not even stiffly. Just… steady.

“You’re young,” Max said, voice calm. Not cold. Not even annoyed. Just quietly firm. “You’ll make mistakes. You did today. You own it. That’s good.”

Kimi blinked.

“I was angry,” Max admitted. “Of course I was. I wanted to race. I wanted to win. But I’ve made stupid moves too. Everyone has.”

A beat.

“Just don’t make it a pattern.”

Kimi nodded so fast his cap nearly falls off. “I won’t. I swear.”

Max stepped forward, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Then learn from it. Come back better.”

Kimi stared at him, confused. “You’re not… furious?”

Max gave him a tired smile. “Kimi, if I got furious every time someone screwed up and hit me, I’d have died of stress five seasons ago.”

Kimi swallowed. “You’ve probably lost the title now.”

Max shrugged. “Then I’ll win another one later. Or not. That’s racing.”

He moved past Kimi, heading for the exit.

Just before disappearing down the stairs, Max tossed over his shoulder, “But if you’re going to crash into someone next time, try making it Oscar. He can afford it.”

And he was gone.

Kimi exhaled like he’s been holding it in for a month.

He still felt like shit.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Anastasia “Ana” Wolff

Ana: Room number.

Max: hello to you too, Poekie 😌 no foreplay? no “are you still alive?” or “were you hurt?”

Ana: Max. Don’t be cute. Just give me the number.

Max: okay but if this is a murder attempt i’d like to die knowing why

Ana: You crashed today. You could’ve been— You scared me.

Max: 703. Top floor. Door’s open.

Max: and Nastya? i’m okay. but i want you here.

***

Max Verstappen’s Hotel Room, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 29 June 2025

The door creaked softly when it opened. Max didn’t move.

He was still lying on top of the covers, shirtless, bruised, and quiet, the Austrian evening spilling shadows through the window. 

The crash footage had played on a loop in his head most of the day—not because he blamed Kimi (he didn’t), and not because of the DNF (he’d already written off the championship weeks ago). But just… because of the way it ended.

Lap 1. A lock-up. A rookie mistake.

Still, Max wasn’t angry.

Kimi had come to apologise, face flushed and awkward, clearly gutted about it all. Max hadn’t been angry with him. Not really. He’d done the same thing at that age—braking too late, too hopeful, too much ambition and not enough patience. It was just unfortunate that he’d chosen Remus, lap one, with Max on the outside.

Max had just clapped a hand to the kid’s shoulder and told him he was fine.

Because he was.

Physically.

The rest… well.

He was used to losing things that mattered. He could add a fifth championship to that list and still sleep at night.

Red Bull’s weekend had already been a disaster. The crash just sealed it.

The title was McLaren’s now. Barring a miracle, it belonged to Lando or Oscar—whichever one didn’t get swallowed by the team’s increasingly chaotic strategy calls first.

But then she stepped into the room.

Ana.

No knock this time. Just her—shoulders tight, mouth drawn, standing there like she’d run the whole way up.

She didn’t speak right away.

And Max… Max let himself look.

The first thing he noticed was her hair, slightly messy, like she’d barely made time to tie it back. So out of character for her like nearly nothing else. 

Ana’s hair was always…perfect. Tightly pinned to her head in some kind of ballerina bun, which held the lengths of icy blonde waves away from her face. Elegant. No Fuss. Like everything else about her. 

The second thing were her eyes. Ana’s eyes…Huge, dark, round, set in a pale face. And now they were flickering over Max like she was taking inventory, like she didn’t trust that he was still whole.

Something pulled tight in his chest.

Because for all her sharpness and sarcasm and cold precision, she had come to his hotel room. Not because she had to. Not because he’d asked. Just because she was worried.

And Ana Wolff didn’t worry. Not openly.

He sat up slowly, wincing just a little. “Poekie,” he said softly.

“Don’t call me that,” she said. But her voice was too thin. Too frayed around the edges.

He tilted his head. “You okay?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I’m not the one who stormed in here like the building’s on fire.”

Ana’s mouth pressed into a flat line. She crossed the room like she needed movement to disguise emotion, until she was close enough to touch—but didn’t. “You crashed.”

“Yep.”

“You could’ve—”

“But I didn’t.”

He watched her breathe through it. Like she couldn’t quite let herself say what she was thinking. Like admitting fear would fracture something in her.

She stared at his chest instead, probably tracking the small bruise already blooming across his ribs. And Max didn’t say anything. He just let her look.

Because for once, she wasn’t pretending not to care.

That part—selfishly, stupidly—pleased him.

So many times, Max had wondered if he was the only one in this thing. If Ana came to him out of convenience, proximity, or worse, nostalgia. 

He was the first boy she ever slept with. Sometimes he feared he was just a habit she hadn’t broken.

But now?

Now she was looking at him like he’d been gone.

Like some terrified part of her had thought she might not get to see him again.

He reached for her hand—quietly, gently—and this time, she let him.

She didn’t speak when he laced their fingers together. Just stared down at their joined hands like she couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened.

Max didn’t push.

He’d learned years ago that Ana Wolff ran from feelings like they were forest fires—contained when distant, destructive up close. The more emotion something carried, the more likely she was to intellectualize it into submission. 

Quantify it. Reframe it. Bury it in logic until it didn’t burn anymore.

He still remembered Silverstone 2021. He had woken up with a splitting headache the morning after his crash with Lewis and to a email she had send him containing a 12 page pdf document about whose fault that incident was. He considered this a step up from that.

So he said nothing.

Just tugged her hand gently, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Come here.”

“Max—”

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “Just sit. For a minute.”

She exhaled, short and sharp—like every breath was an argument she hadn’t figured out how to win yet.

But then Ana climbed onto the bed beside him.

She didn’t curl into him, not at first. Just sat there, stiff-spined, like she didn’t know what to do with her own body. Max stayed where he was. Quiet. Warm. Solid. The one place she never had to be anything but herself.

Eventually, gravity won.

Or maybe it was exhaustion. Or maybe—finally—it was fear loosening its grip on her long enough to let comfort in.

She laid down beside him. Hesitated once. Then leaned in.

Not all the way. Not dramatically.

Just enough to press her forehead to the curve of his shoulder, as if she couldn’t bear looking at him but needed to know he was real.

Max let out a slow breath and tucked the blanket around her. Didn’t kiss her. Didn’t tease. Just wrapped an arm around her back and held her like he had all the time in the world.

Because maybe he didn’t. Not really. Not with the season crumbling and his future a stack of unanswered questions and whispers in the Mercedes boardroom.

But he had this.

Right now.

Her, pressed close enough that he could feel every shiver of breath against his skin. Her, pretending this was nothing—but choosing him anyway.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour.

He felt her muscles loosen. Her breathing slow.

“I’m not staying the night,” she mumbled, voice already half-asleep.

Max smiled into the crown of her head. “Of course not.”

“You don’t have to get ideas.”

“Never.”

“This is just... comfort.”

“Obviously.”

She let out a breath. Then, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it:

“You scared me.”

Max closed his eyes. Let the words settle between them like a fragile truth too important to acknowledge aloud.

He didn’t say thank you.

Didn’t say me too.

Didn’t say I love you—even though it sat on his tongue like something aching to be set free.

He just held her closer.

And in the quiet dark of that Austrian hotel room, he let her pretend.

Because she was here.

Because she came.

Because for all her walls and logic and tightly repressed emotions—

She still came.

And Max Verstappen could live on that a little while longer.

***

Max Verstappen’s Hotel Room, Spielberg, Styria, Austria - 30 June 2025

Max was warm.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Not the muted hotel light bleeding through the blackout curtains.

Not the unfamiliar sheets or the soft whir of central air.

Just the impossible, infuriating warmth of the man beside her.

Ana blinked into the pillow.

She hadn’t meant to stay.

But her body had betrayed her—muscle memory and fear and something she refused to name pulling her under until there was no use fighting it.

And now—

Now she was here.

In Max’s bed.

Wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else.

With his arm draped casually across her waist like it belonged there. Like she belonged there.

She should get up.

She should leave.

Brush her teeth. Re-engage the firewall. Reassert emotional dominance.

Instead, she turned her head and looked at him.

Max, still asleep, mouth slightly parted, lashes dark against his cheekbones. One hand splayed on the sheets like he’d been reaching for her even in sleep. 

He looked—God, he looked young like this. Not the four-time World Champion. Not the Red Bull golden boy or the potential Mercedes coup. 

Just Max.

The boy who gave her the best sex of her life at nineteen and then ruined her for every man after.

The man who still ruined her without even trying.

And for a second—for one breath, one heartbeat—Ana felt it again.

That crushing, terrifying sensation from yesterday.

The moment she’d seen his car buried in gravel.

The second she realized it was him.

He could’ve—

She closed her eyes.

No.

He was fine. He was fine.

And she—well.

She could make sure of it.

Ana moved before she could overthink it.

Slid a hand beneath the covers.

Skin to skin.

Max stirred when her thigh brushed his. Murmured something in Dutch that sounded suspiciously like her name.

She kept going.

Her fingers curled low over his stomach, slow, precise, undoing him like an equation.

His breath hitched.

“Nastya…” he rasped, voice gravel-rough. “What are you—”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re alive,” she whispered.

He blinked up at her, still half-asleep. “Pretty sure. Why?”

She kissed him again. “Just confirming.”

And then she kissed him for real. Mouth open, demanding, like she could taste the panic off his tongue and swallow it whole. Like she could replace it with something else.

He groaned into it, hands coming alive—gripping her hips, dragging her across his lap with practiced ease.

She shifted to straddle him, the blanket falling away, her hair spilling down around them like a shield.

He looked up at her like she was the only thing that made sense.

And Ana—

Ana let herself feel it.

Let herself ride the high of adrenaline and relief and lust, because if she couldn’t say the words—if she couldn’t be what he deserved—

Then she could give him this.

Her hands. Her mouth. Her body.

Her desperate, wordless confession of you scared me and don’t ever do that again.

And Max?

Max let her.

Let her take what she needed.

Let her pretend, again, that this was just another perfectly logical choice between two adults who didn’t care too much.

Even if she did.

Even if he did more.

So she kissed down the warm, perfect skin. She breathed in that scent that was somehow perfectly Max.

Traced the line of bruises from the seatbelt with her fingertips.

Hooked her fingers into his sweatpants, pulling them down.

Max shifted beneath her, a hitch in his breath like the startle of a race car spinning on cold tires.

But he didn’t flinch. He just watched her, steady, eyes unreadable and almost absurdly blue in the diffuse morning light.

No fanfare. No preamble as she reached for his rapidly hardening cock and swallowed him down.

He tasted of salt and sleep.

He was hard in her mouth almost instantly, hips twitching against the mattress as he groaned.

“Nastya.” Not Poekie, which she hated, mostly because it meant Kitten in Dutch.

Not Ana, which was what everybody called her.

Not Anastasia, the name she had been born with.

But Nastya.

Nobody but Max had ever called her that.

He was trembling, just a little, and there was something deeply, almost shamefully satisfying about having this kind of effect on Max fucking Verstappen.

He whispered her name again, lower this time, threaded his fingers in her hair.

Long and Blonde and something she usually never wore open…unless it was Max’s unravelling it.

His touch wasn’t hard, wasn’t controlling…just a point of contact, a grounding wire…like the pulsing heat and weight in her mouth, as she flattened her tongue under the crown of his cock.

She could feel it, too, the way he was holding himself back. The twitch of his thigh beneath her palm, the taut line of his jaw as if he was biting back something primal, something that would have blown through both their defenses if given a single inch.

She liked hearing the cracks in his composure, the broken syllables, the Dutch cursing whittled down to vowels and breath.

She didn’t stop, not even when he fisted the sheets, not when he groaned her name in that voice that belonged to no one else, not when he broke and came, sharp and sudden, salt flooding her mouth, like a car sliding off the track at terminal velocity. She swallowed, slow and deliberate, pressing her nails into his thighs.

She lingered a beat longer than necessary, savoring the aftershocks. When she finally looked up, he was watching her with something that looked an awful lot like reverence.

Ana wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Climbed up and sprawled on top of him, her hair a gold curtain around their flushed, sated faces. His hands found her hips. Just held them. Like he could keep her there through force of will or gravity or whatever held planets in their orbits.

She let herself collapse into him, all the way. The clean ache in her thighs, the animal thud of her heart, the weird lazy high that came from knowing she still had this power over him. This exact thing he could never fix or tune out or ghost.

He stroked her back in one long, unhurried line. “Next time,” he said, in that battered race-day voice, “let me wake up first.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to be conscious to finish. You’re a natural.”

He nipped at her collarbone, just enough to make her hiss.

“You’re going to kill me one morning.”

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP:You alive? Or did you die of fury after Lap 1?

Max:Bit bruised Emotionally and otherwise But yeah, still breathing

GP:Kimi said it was a racing incident Thoughts?

Max: My thoughts are that he is a rookie and made a rookie mistake. 

GP:So no podium and mild whiplash Great Sunday

Max:Yeah Except Ana came to check on me after

GP:What do you mean after? Like, post-race?

Max:Like… showed up at my hotel Looked genuinely worried Didn’t even insult me once

GP:You sure it was Ana? Not a very convincing lookalike?

Max:She stayed the night

GP:Ah. Stayed the night

Max:It means maybe she does like me Right?

GP:Mate. Yes. She likes you. That was never in question. Next race I’m bringing a whiteboard and drawing this out in stick figures

Max:Use colour coding I respond better to visual aids

GP:You’re lucky you’re fast That’s all I’ll say.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max:She really does like me

Victoria:Who? Sassy? Because that’s not news

Max:Ana

Victoria:…Maxie.

Max:No, I’m serious She came to check on me after the race Like really check on me Then she stayed the night

Victoria:Stayed how? Stayed like “sat silently in a chair and judged your wallpaper” Or stayed like “woke up drooling on your chest at 3am”?

Max:The second one Her hand was on my chest. She didn’t move it That means something, right?

Victoria:Max. She’s been sleeping with you for ten years The bar is not that low

Max:Yeah but this was different She chose to come She chose to stay And when she left in the morning, she kissed my forehead Forehead, Vic That’s, like, emotionally intimate

Victoria:That’s also what I do to my toddlers And you When you’re concussed

Max:Shut up It meant something She loves me I’m sure of it One day she’s going to admit it And I’m going to marry her

Victoria:Wow From “I think she likes me” to “I’m putting a ring on it” in under 5 minutes Impressive even for you

Max:I already bought the ring Four years ago Just waiting for her to stop pretending she’s not in love with me

Victoria:You romantic lunatic I love you And also, you are deeply insane

Max:Maybe But I’m right

Victoria:I hope so, Maxie For both your sakes

Max:She’ll come around You’ll see Dr. Anastasia Wolff-Verstappen has a nice ring to it, no?

Victoria:Oh my god Please don’t tell her you’ve practiced her name

***

[themomsandthecity]

How (and Why) to Advocate For Better Breastfeeding Accommodations at Work

You've probably never heard someone describe breastfeeding as easy. Between latching issues, sore nipples, and generally feeling more cow than human, many new parents who choose to breastfeed their babies struggle. Heading back to the workplace brings a whole new set of challenges. Unless you work from home and have the flexibility to pump anytime, you'll have to figure out how to get lactation accommodations like enough break time, a safe space to express milk, and a secure place to store it. Fortunately, today there are multiple federal laws covering breastfeeding support in the workplace, and about 30 states have additional state-specific regulations. That means the vast majority of employees are guaranteed reasonable breaks and a private area (that isn't a bathroom) to pump so that they can safely feed their baby the way they want without putting their jobs at risk. Yet if a company hasn't recently had a breastfeeding employee return to work, they might not be up to date on exactly what they're supposed to do. "Oftentimes, employers want to accommodate, they just might not know what you need," says Stephanie Reitz, a human resources professional with MyHR Partner. As awkward as it might feel to bring up breast milk to your boss, if you want to nurse after returning to work, you might need to be your own advocate. Why It's Worth Advocating For Lactation Accommodations at Work The science is clear that breastfeeding provides multiple health benefits for both the baby and the breastfeeding parent. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends exclusively breastfeeding infants for about six months, then continuing to nurse while introducing solid foods for at least two years. Even in the most generous circumstances, few working parents get quite that much parental leave, which means that if you want to go back to work and follow those recommendations, you'll have to figure out how to pump on the job. "If an employee is not able to express milk at work, it signals to the body that milk production can be reduced and can quickly compromise their milk supply," says Cheryl Lebedevitch, the national policy director of the nonprofit advocacy organization United States Breastfeeding Committee. Not being able to pump as often as your baby eats can also lead to nipple leaking or even infection, she adds. Being able to nourish your child the way you want can also have a major impact on your mental health, points out full-spectrum doula and maternal health advocate Athena Gabriella Guice. "It's just so deeply personal because we're talking about bellies here. As a parent, to know that your child has nutrients and nourishment, it makes the biggest difference," she says. Being separated from your infant when you return to work can already be a major strain; encountering logistical hurdles to breastfeeding because you need a paycheck only increases the risk of perinatal mood disorders, says Guice. Sometimes, those hurdles become so challenging that parents give up breastfeeding sooner than they otherwise would have. One 2021 study on nursing parents in the journal Breastfeeding Medicine found that about 34 percent of those who didn't return to work nursed for 12 or more months, while only 12 percent of those who returned full-time and 20 percent who returned part-time continued that long. How to Advocate For Lactation Accommodations at Work Reitz's number one piece of advice for breastfeeding parents is to not be shy about your needs. "Take the time to look up your rights. Have a plan for what you need, and then present that plan to your employer, whether it be your HR representative or your manager," she says. If you're not sure what you're entitled to, Lebedevitch says the nonprofits A Better Balance and the Center For WorkLife Law have free helplines to answer questions about your legal rights. "[I]t's an opportunity for education." Start the conversation before you head out on… https://www.popsugar.com/family/advocate-breastfeeding-accommodations-work-49341615?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER ONE

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which the story starts and finds you in a place of malevolence. a reluctant return to hell's gate leads you to meeting jake sully

warnings: none!

word count: 3.6k

author's note: finally posting this! there's no schedule for how i'm going to release these but i hope to be at least consistent! just no demanding me to post the next chapter or to finish, that doesn't help much with writing. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

italics is speaking in na'vi

AO3 | masterlist | next

Powder covered your hands by the time the radio next to you came to life. Last time that radio came on, Dr. Grace Augustine had, very heatedly, called on you to fix one of the link units. Some genius had thought it was a good idea to kick at it in anger, knocking a few wires loose. Didn’t do any real damage but that guy never slipped into another link unit again. He’d have Grace to thank for that. And his temper.

That had been months ago. You hadn’t been back in Hell’s Gate since then.

Surprisingly enough, it was Trudy. “Hey, Doc. Mind comin’ to look at one of the computers in the lab? I think one of those science geeks broke a monitor or somethin’.”

Without looking up from your work, you reply, “Then buy a new one. My job is to fix shit, not consult about some stupid monitor.”

There were muffled voices further away as the radio cut in and out a few times. Seconds later, Trudy finally spoke again, “Uh, my bad, it’s not a monitor. It’s some….uh…power box, I guess. Glitched out on the geeks, now they don’t have power in a few of the computers.”

It took a moment for you to respond. Both because of the weak radio signal in the middle of the forest and because you had to take a few moments to program your newly robotic arm helper to finish off your new invention, which you had been working on for nearly half a year now. Project Pandora is what you called it.

“Trudy,” you finally say, picking up the radio and pushing the chair away from the desk and toward the small window on the other side of the little space, “why are you, a pilot no less, asking me about computers in a lab?”

There is a hesitant silence on the other end. But after listening closely, you realized there was another muffled conversation going on further away, one that the radio couldn’t really pick up.

Eventually, Trudy’s voice reached the radio again. “I told you she’d see right through it.” It sounded as if she was talking to someone and that someone was muttering something further away from the radio. Trudy sighed before continuing, “Look, Doc. I’m gonna be blunt with you. Parker’s too much of a pussy to do it himself so he got me in here to reach you.”

You clicked your tongue, “Why am I not surprised.”

“He’s scared of you.”

“More than Grace?”

There were louder muffles, almost audible if not for the static from the radio. “Parker wants you back at the gate…and to tell you that he’s not scared of you.”

After a while, the radio finally cut off and you sat there. Outside the little window was the forest of Pandora, your view for the past few months. And really, you would like to keep it that way from now on. Being away from Hell’s Gate has brought you a sense of peace and a sense of forgetting. Although, the forgetting was harder said than done.

No matter what you did, there was nothing that could make you forget what these humans were doing to Pandora, what they planned to do, what they already had done. It was a bunch of bullshit really. The RDA complained that they weren’t making any progress with the Na’vi, the people of  Pandora, while at the same time attacking them and threatening to take over the land by wiping out the indigenous.

You had come here to learn about this species and quite possibly one day live among them, not take over. Which is why you separate yourself from Hell’s Gate after the incident. But it seemed no matter what you did to keep away from them, somehow you were always brought back in.

It had to be him behind it. That man was stubborn enough to keep you in his control just as you were stubborn enough to find any way to stay far away from that place.

“Doc?” Trudy’s voice came in through the radio. With a frown, you looked back at your robotic arm and the invention, deep in thought. “You there?”

With a sigh, you replied, “There’s no other engineers up there? Mechanics?”

“Most of them are workin’ on those AMPs. Parker wants you. The best of the best, you know?”

You frown, “Doesn’t sound as great as it did years ago.”

“Don’t think too much about it. You’ll be in and out. Then you’ll get to go back to your little lab in the woods and stay secluded like the hermit that you are.” Trudy teased in an attempt to lighten your mood. And you did try to smile at the joke, just a little bit, but the thought about going back, about stepping your foot back into that place, somehow he’d win.

“I could say no.” You try, even though you were getting up and sliding your boots on. “Tell him to find some other unfortunate engineer to do his shit.”

“You could.” Trudy agreed. “That would definitely make Parker pop a vein. But if we sent in someone else that isn’t you, it sure as hell wouldn’t get done quickly or right. So there’s that.”

“Hmm, I’d say let them rot.” You grumble as you grab your mask and place it on your face.

Trudy laughed on the other end as you stepped out of the lab. The air was fresh on your skin but poisonous to your lungs. Still, it did feel somewhat nice stepping out of your stuffy lab for once. Being surrounded by beautiful forest. The beauty of Pandora still never failed to amaze you despite your grim attitude as of lately. There was something so special about this planet, something you never felt on your home planet, Earth.

You just wished the circumstances were different.

“You’re a genius, Doc.” Parker praised as you closed the power box.

“Is that all?” You asked dryly, rolling your sleeve back down as you began leaving the dark room.

The administrator followed after you as you sauntered through the halls, ready to go back to the forest and your private lab. “Yeah, well, I believe that should be all. I knew you could do it the best too, my guys are useless when it comes to this stuff.”

“Stop kissing ass, Selfridge.” Both you and Parker turned to find Grace waltzing down the hall toward the two of you. A smirk was on her lips when her eyes landed on you. “Tinkers! Never thought I’d see you come out of your little hole. How long has it been? Three? Four months?”

Despite where you were, you gave a small smile, “Hi Grace.”

Parker excused himself immediately much to your relief, going back to his usual spot, which was overseeing all the link units of the Avatar Program. You raised your brows at how quickly he left but you figured it was mostly because he didn’t want to hear Grace go on and on about the beauties of Pandora. Parker was the type of guy who only cared about what profited him the most. And the last thing he wanted to hear was how innocent everything was. Would make him lose track of the most important goal.

And for that, you despised that man. Parker must’ve sensed your dislike for him and found it intimidating, especially when it came to calling on you for favors such as fixing an electric power box.

Behind her were three other men. One of which you knew by Dr. Patel, the other two you guessed were new.

Grace crossed her arms, not bothering to introduce the two other males behind her as she spoke in a lowered voice, “Coming back this time around?”

You shook your head, “No. Just here for a small fixer upper. I should be heading back soon actually.”

“You sure?” Grace then gestured to the two behind her, giving you an exasperated look, “Could really use someone familiar out there. To the land and the people.” You didn’t respond right away which the scientist noticed. “Forget about Quaritch, you know you want to get back out there. Your avatar’s waiting—”

“Who's the newbies?” You addressed Dr. Patel, earning a glare from Grace at your efforts of quickly changing the conversation. It was something you definitely weren’t going to discuss here and especially in front of the new people who were watching the two of you a little too closely for your liking.

Dr. Patel smiled at you in greeting before gesturing to the two other men. “This is Norm Spellman, our new biologist for the team. Fellas, this is Dr. Y/N L/N, our best engineer at RDA.”

The tall lanky one stepped forward and offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, I’ve actually heard a lot about your work here. Well, your mother’s work, I should say.” Grace rolled her eyes as you tried not to wince at the mention of your mother. But of course, Norm didn’t notice and kept going, “Also, very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a brilliant mind, the best of our kind—”

“Alright, Spellman.” Grace gave him a pointed look before nodding over to the man in the wheelchair, “You remember Tom Sully? Well, this is his worse half, Jake Sully. He’s unfortunately replacing Tom in the program.”

“Thank you for that, Gracie.” Jake retorted just as quickly.

“Fuck off.” Grace glared and nudged your side. “Ignore him, I do.”

Yes, you did hear about this. Tom’s unfortunate death led them to scramble for a quick replacement. You never met Tom yourself so you never had much of an attachment to him. Neither did Grace but you could tell that wasn’t the only thing annoying her. If you had to guess, Jake was probably drastically different from his late brother and Grace didn’t have much patience for that.

Still, you offered him a kind smile. “Ma’am.” He nodded to you, offering his own hand which you shook.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sully.” You glanced from a pensive Grace to Jake. “I imagine you know a lot about the program similar to your brother.”

Jake tilted his head, “I watched a Netflix special once.”

Grace scowled, Dr. Patel coughed to cover a smile, and Norm shifted on his feet awkwardly, watching the two of them.

You found yourself grinning for the first time in a while., “I don’t know, Augustine. I kind of like him. “

Grace rolled her eyes, “Whatever. We’re heading over to the link units. It’s about time the two of you get acquainted with your avatar form.” She then addressed you but in Na’vi surprisingly. “And when will you bring out yours? Don’t try to change the subject this time, Tinkers.”

Feeling Jake’s curious and confused gaze on the two of you, you answer in a quick hiss, “Drop it.” Then you turned to Jake and smiled, “S’ nice to meet you, Mr. Sully—”

“Jake.” He nodded toward you with a little smile of his own. “You can call me Jake.”

Your smile grew, “Alright, Jake. Welcome to Pandora.” She pointed at Grace with her thumb, “Don’t let her ruin the experience, yeah? She can be a little twitchy sometimes.”

“Go back to your hole, Tinkers!” Grace called over her shoulder as she continued down  the hall with Norm and Dr. Patel following after her.

“Right up your ass, Augustine!” You shot back with a smirk before sending Jake a wink.

Jake, despite his previous stoic expression, found himself grinning at you. “Nice to meet you, L/N.”

“Y/N.” You corrected, moving around him to head the opposite direction. “Or Doc, either way, don’t be so formal. Especially with me.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

With that, you watched as he rolled away in the direction the others went. Once the company was gone, your shoulders sagged a bit, slightly exhausted from the small interaction and because of the busy environment of Hell’s Gate as you made your way out of it.

Just as you were about to reach outside and grab your mask, one of the soldiers, Wainfleet, blocked your exit while sitting in one of those AMPs.

“Doc! Leaving so soon?” He grinned down at you.

“Move, dipshit.” You say bluntly, gripping the mask in your hands while glaring up at him.

He shrugged, grinning cockily down at her. “Can’t do that, Doc. Colonel heard you crawled out of your little hole you’ve been hiding in the past few months. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to eat shit, ya know, like in all the messages I replied to.”

When you tried going around him, he stepped in your way, aggravating you more.

“Look, cupcake. We could either do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way, you go and see Colonel yourself or hard way I drag your tiny ass over there.”

At this point, the more you gripped at the mask, the more it was possible it could break in your grasp. So you hooked your mask back onto your belt, seething eyes never leaving Wainfleet. It was possible to shut down the AMPs in your current height. You’d done it before but it was with someone who lacked experience controlling those things.

Wainfleet on the other hand was often training himself in them, which would lead to a more difficult and quite possible deadly attempt at escape.

Which meant, unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a choice.

With your dignity burying itself into the ground, you followed Wainfleet further into the Armor Bay where multiple more AMPs were lined up along with the ships and planes the pilots controlled.

When you arrived at the small gym room where Quaritch was currently benching, Wainfleet left you alone but you didn’t move to further enter the room. All you did was scowl and stand in the doorway with crossed arms, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

And you knew he knew you were there.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to talk again.” Quaritch finally said, putting down the weights as he sat up. He grabbed a towel next to him and began wiping the sweat off his sweat. “Are you finally done with your tantrum?”

He wanted you to snap, rise to the provoking. But you remained silent, your jaw clenching just a bit as your eyes narrowed in on him. Quaritch was watching you closely as well, probably waiting for you to react.

“Ah, the silent treatment. Guess I should’ve expected that too.” He threw the towel to the side before looking up at you with a smirk. “Thought you made a vow never to set foot in here again. Made a whole dramatic scene about it too—”

“What do you want?” You ask simply.

Quaritch now scowled at your indifference or rather rebellion, you couldn’t really tell. “I want you to get your act together. I don’t have time for you throwing fits like a child because you don’t get your way. This is a mission, Doc, and your job is to—”

“My job was to help the people.” You hissed, stepping only a few feet into the room. “To build a connection with them. That was your orders. That’s what you asked me to do. And what does the RDA do? Fuck it all up by shooting a bunch of Na’vi, leaving them for dead!”

Quaritch rolled his eyes, “You’re still on that?”

You seethed, “You don’t even understand what you did! You would think thinking smartly would crossed your thick fucking skull—”

“That’s enough from you!” He barked in his Colonel voice. “Disrespect me like that again and I will boot you right off of this planet as fast as I got you on it, you hear me?”

“Do it then.” You challenged, hands shaking from anger. “You’ve had plenty of times to get rid of me. If you find me so much of a problem, why am I still here?”

You half expected him to keep shouting at you, yell at you into submission like he does his subordinates. But instead, Quaritch chuckled as he stood up. “Moments like this, you remind me of your father. Good man, acted just like you. Which was what made him the best soldier. Which made him a good captain.”

He was changing the conversation, he was trying to have power over you without being forthright about it. He had done this before whenever you tried arguing, it was his way of shutting you down without getting into a fight.

“You’re a smart cookie, Doc. And I know you’re smart enough to realize your value to this team. To the program.” He flashed his white teeth at you. “You and I both know I can’t get rid of you that easily. And I won’t. I made a vow after all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering just where this conversation was going. Every time he brought up that damned vow it usually was followed by something for her to do. A favor. Something to keep her distracted.

“So let’s put the whole past to rest—”

“I rather not—” Quaritch cut you off just as fast as you did.

“And focus on the current future. Have you met Corporal Sully?”

You frown, suddenly remembering Jake’s charming smile. “What, he’s your new little puppet now?”

Quaritch wasn’t phased by the comment as he sat back down on the bench, “He’s got promise that kid. I tasked him to get to know the Na’vi people and learn their ways, to gain information for me.” You scoffed in disbelief as he continued. “Since you’re so well versed in their culture, I want you to give him some pointers. A tutor if you will.”

“Like hell I will—”

“And yes, you can decline.” Quaritch began lifting the weights again, “And then the RDA can take your little secluded lab away, destroying everything you’ve worked on. I’m sure that would be smart.”

This was where you had to control yourself. Your reaction. Your anger. You remembered a certain project that you were just nearly done with. Something you had been working on dedicatedly ever since the incident. If Quaritch or any of the RDA were to discover it, you were sure you would be exiled back to Earth.

Or quite possibly killed.

“What do you say, kid?” Quaritch noticed your silence.

With a scowl, you gritted out, “Fine.”

From the bench, the Colonel grinned, “Good girl! Now we can really get to work!” He placed the weight back down and stood, “Let’s go tell Sully the good news.”

When arriving in the link room, you lingered behind while Quaritch approached one of the link beds that was just opening. Jake happened to be in that one as he sat up, immediately spotting the Colonel walking toward him.

“Sir.” Jake greeted, briefly glancing your way for a moment longer before turning back to the Colonel.

Quaritch nodded in greeting and gestured to you, “I assume you’ve already met, Dr. L/N, the best of the best in the Avatar Program.”

“What do you want, Quaritch?” Grace cut in as she pushed open her own link bed. She noticed the angered look on your face and raised her brows, silently questioning you.

“She’s going to be showing the ins and outs of the Na’vi, she’ll give you some pointers to better prepare yourself for the program.” Quaritch winked as he clapped his hand on your shoulder. “You do best following her lead, might keep you alive, Corporal.”

Jake nodded, eyes alight, “Will do, sir.”

Quaritch’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “Take care of our boy, will you, Doc.”

Carefully, you reply, “He’s in good hands…sir.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at you while Jake frowned, finally noticing your change in behavior compared to your earlier brighter demeanor.

Satisfied, Quaritch gave you another rough pat on your back before leaving you with Grace, Jake, and as soon as he came out of his link bed, Norm.

“Tinkers.” Grace brought your attention back to her. She gave you a meaningful look before speaking in Na’vi, “What happened?”

Instead of responding to her, you nodded toward the three with an impassive expression, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You needed some time away, to calm down, to reevaluate some things. If only you had left as quickly as you had planned to, none of this would have occurred. You wouldn’t be feeling so helpless right now as you stalked through the halls, practically glaring at everything around you. At this rate, you wished that bastard dropped you back on Earth. At least you would be far away from this shit.

“Hey, Doc!”

A part of you wanted to just keep going and ignore Jake Sully when he called for you. But you stopped anyway despite yourself and turned to find him rolling toward you.  He stopped a few feet away from you, frowning at your guarded behavior. “I know I’m not well informed about all of this the way you’d like but I’m sure I can catch on fast—”

“Let’s get one thing very clear, Sully. I know you’re working with Quaritch. I know you’re planning on lying to them, gaining information for him to use or whatever the hell he’s planning. I don’t want any part of it.” You shoved your hands into your pants pockets glaring at the surprised man. “You’ve aligned yourself with a dangerous man, Sully. I hope you understand what you’re doing here.”

Just as you turned to walk away, Jake called out to you again, “So is that your advice then? As my tutor?”

 “No. Not all of it.” You glanced over your shoulder at him and shrugged, “Try not to die, Jake.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon

[profoundtyrantharmony]

Title : What a Game

Pairing : Loki x Reader x Thor

Words : 3354

Warning : Fluff and a bit smutty at the end.

Note : Everybody is alive, Endgame happened without permanent casualties

Plot : A game of fu*k marry or kill with alcohol leads the Avengers (original 6 + Loki, Bucky, Sam, Wanda and Vision) and reader to admit dome hidden feelings deep inside of them.

Tags : @im-a-satanic-ritual

Masterlist // Prompt list request

We’ve been on a mission for several weeks now. Since the events with Thanos we could have thought that the human nature would have been less evil...we were wrong. There will always be an other monster wanting to do bad things to innocent in the sole purpose of being richer, more powerfull or just because they can. That’s why we, the Avengers work so hard to preserve the lives of millions of innocents.

This is not easy everyday but fortunately we can count on each other, Steve Sam and Bucky united by their military past, Natasha and Clint bonded years ago when he decided to not kill her, Tony and Bruce over science, Wanda and Vision... it’s a bit fuzzy for now but we can say they’re linked by their appreciation of one another -If I had my say in this, I’d just tell them to get together already- and finally there is me Thor and Loki. At the beginning the two brother were always together -since the redeeming of Loki they got a lot of time to catch-. 

At first I befriended Loki over my interest of literature and calm nature. I was coming back from a trip to the library with my arms full of new books when Loki walked by me and helped me to settle them in my room. He looked over my collection and asked me if he could borrow some -which I obviously accepted-. Since that day we could be found in his room or in mine, sometime in the living room reading our own book, sometime reading to each other. After that we started to talk together about everyday life, the further we talk and more personnal our conversation had become. We were now friend and proud to be.

Then some weeks later I befriended Thor over some pop tarts -Yes I love pop tarts too especially those with weird flavors like root beer, pumpkin pie or even maple bacon- this day, I’ll remember it till the day I die. I just finished training with Nat and Clint when my stomach told me it was time to give him some sustenance or else... I went to the kitchen, grabbed my personnal stash of snacks -full of weird flavors snacks that no one in the tower wanted to taste- when suddenly I felt a warm presence behind me, it was too late fo me to hide what rightfully belonged to me. I turned around and without surprise saw Thor with eyes full of mirth and ecstasy at the sight of all the different treats. He asked me what was all of this, I let him try some, he liked it and that’s basicaly how the three of us became really good friends. Our bond is like nothing I ever experience before, it’s more like a fraternal kind of bond, without being blood related.

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The quinjet landed on the Avengers compound, the roars of the engines wake me from my slumber. I’m tired, sweaty and in dire need of a hot shower. I thought we would have to go to the med bay see if everything and everyone were alright then go to our quarter and be free fromany Avengers duties. Clearly, as I hear Tony speaks through my foggy head, I understand that this is not what’s going to happen.

“Guys we need to celebrate our victory !!” Tony happily says.

“Come on Tony, give us a break !” Steve says a bit defeated knowing well Tony won't listen to anyones plea.

“Don’t you think it will be better to celebrate tomorrow, when everyone feel rested ?” replies Bruce trying to coaxe him into reason.

“Bruce is right, we need to rest this mission was physically and mentaly draining !” Adds Bucky with tiredness clouding his eyes.

“Listen up everybody, we’re all going to the med bay, we’re all going to rest for a bit...But tonight at 8:00pm we’re going to spend some time together as a team bonding, to be together as friends more than work colleagues. Is that understood !” Tony explains with seriousness in his tone not wanting to be contradicted.  

“Seriously Tony ! I’m tired, sweaty, I look like an old dry cod sticking on the side of the road !!” I start to yell a bit frustrated with him.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself sweet flower.” Says Loki smiling at me.

“An old dry cod ?! You’re not that old !!” Says Thor laughing at his own joke.

“I hate you both ! I tell both of the gods. And I hate you too Tony, making me stay up when I only want to sleep, that’s mean !” I couldn’t contain the slight smile that wanted to break free from my psudo angry face.

“Yeah yeah I love you too y/n/n ! See you all tonight, there will be acohol an there will be games !” Exclaims Tony with a renewed genuine smile.

“Games ?” Ask Clint and Natasha at the same time.

“A game actually, not plural.”

“May I ask mister Stark what this game, singuar, will be ?” 

“You’ll see for yourself tonight Vision !”

“You know I can read your mind Tony ? You can’t hide anything from me.” Says Wanda with a sly smile that make her even more gorgeous than she already is.

“You wouldn’t dare violate the one that offers you a chance to be a better version of yourself in such a rude way would you !?” Tony is almost laughing, it’s all for fun, we ove each other so much that we can laugh and joke about almost everything.

“Actually Clint is the one who offer her first a second chance, just saying. Interrupts Sam. As for this reading mind thing I’m not oppose to because if the game you’re trying to make us play is a fuc*ing Uno, I’m out man !”

Everybody laugh at this, Sam is such a pure soul, so much fun to be around, good vibes, nice, funny and smart...did I mentionned how funny he is ? Because that’s a fact, he even made the Hulk chuckles once !!

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Hours passed since our arrival, we each took a shower and relax for a bit. We’re now sitting in the living room, on the duvets and pillows covered floor. In the middle f it there is a coffee table with on it different type of sat and sugar snacks as well as an unheathy amount of alcohol -There is even a botte of Asgardian mead for Loki and Thor-. We’re surrounding this table, some on the couch and armchairs, some on the floor. The only one not here is Tony, such a diva !

We’re all chatting together, eating, drinking and laughing. I see that Loki as a glass of Asgardian mead in his hands and as I never get a taste of it I’m eager to try it but I’m aso pretty sure none of himor Thor would ever let me... I’ll just have to outsmart the both of them. With the most innocent look I can must I come sit between them and start talking to Loki. As the conversation goes and I see him so entranced by what I’m saying, I put my arms around him from behind as if I was hugging him. I’m pretty convinced I’ll succeed until...

“What are you trying to do here sweet flower ?”

“Ahem... Trying to divert your attention from your glass of mead so I can have a taste of it !”

Thor who is sitting beside him, turns his head toward me once hearing my blatant admission. and couldn’t countain his chuckle.

“My dear rosebud you’ll never cease to amaze me !” He laughs while giving me a side hug.

Trying to divert my attention by pretending to hug me will never work, I can only suggest youto be more imaginative in your touchy feelly strategies.” Loki smiles at me as if I’m the purest thing is ever see. 

I know that both of the gods thinks my honesty is rather endearing but as everyone I have filters, that tends to disappear once alcohol enters the game.

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Finally Tony arrived ! The game he wants us all to play is the f*ck, marry or kill but Avengers version. I thought we were all grow adults but apparently not. No big deal, it means more alcohol to supress further embarassment by admitting some secret crushes inadvertantly ! Again no big deal...

Tony explains the rules for Vision, Thor and Loki -even if considering the name of the game, there is nothing more to explain really-.

“Each one of us will have to respond to a FMK question without lying or trying to outsmart the question, Tony looks right into Loki’s, Natasha’s and Clint’s direction, and obviously without using mind control power, again he looks to Loki’s and then Wanda’s. I almost forget, we can’t refuse to answer because of it not being respectful enough toward the ladies around us !” To this final statement he hold eyes contact with the captain and his bestfriend.

“Well let’s begin, Tony FMK Vision, Y/n, Steve ?” Ask Natasha.

“Oh lord what a way to begin Romanoff ! I think I would marry y/n of course, he winks at me and I laugh, then I would...f*ck Capsicle and kill Vision, sorry buddy but you’re like a son to me, it would be so messed up.”

“Your turn Nat FMK Me, Wanda, Bucky ?” Ask Clint with a light smirk on his face.

“Easy, fuck Bucky, marry Wanda and kill you.” She answers matter of factly.

“What a shame, you will never know what a good husband I am !”

“I’m flattered but why won’t you marry me instead of Wanda, I think I’m easier to explain to a familly dinner ?”

“It’s always better with women on the long term !”

“What is ? Be speccific !” All the male ask at the same time, the only answer they get is a knowing smirk on her pretty face.

The game continues for several time, as time passes the more alcohol is being swallowed and less inhibitions are left. Clint chooses to f*ck Tony, marry Bruce and kill Loki. Bucky chooses to f*ck Nat, marry Steve and kill Sam -How sweet don’t you think !- ; Wanda chooses to f*ck Nat, marry Y/n and kill Thor -which outraged him because according to him no human can compare to his godly talents- ; Sam chooses to f*ck Vision -for experimentation purpose only- marry Clint and kill Tony for his money ; Bruce chooses to f*ck Thor, marry Bucky and kill Loki for no peculiar reason ; Steve chooses to f*ck Nat, marry Y/n and kill Wanda -which horrifies him to the point of giving her a bear hug to forgive him !.

“Well brother , FMK Bruce, Y/n and Sam ?” Ask Loki.

“I’ll f*ck Bruce because I can’t kill him, I’ll marry Y/n because she’s my pure and innocent rosebud and I’ll kill Sam because I don’t have any other choice !” He beams hapilly as the other looks at him quite strangely after hearing him compliment me.

“I’ll take charge asking you this reinder games, FMK Y/n, Nat, Steve ?” Ask Tony a bit suspiscious concerning the two Asgardians.

“F*ck Steve, marry Y/n and kill Nat !”

“What !? You choose to have sex with Steve over Nat ?!” Tony is shocked.

“What can I say...I’m an hedonist...and I never had the chance to try this with a supersoldier so... What can I say, I’m curious about it !”

No one says a thing after this, surprised by it but not by him.

“Y-You might be an hedonist and a-all but nor you nor anyone of you wanted to f*ck me...or kill me, which is good, n-not wanting to kill me I mean... Everybody is looking at me, seeing my lack of filter due to being a bit tipsy. None of you think I’d be a good f*ck !? I’m not that innocent though !” My voice starts to get high pitched.

“What are you saying sweet flower you’re incredibly gorgeous...”

“My assets are in great shapes !” Everybody chuckles but I don’t mind, I don’t notice.

“In great shapes rosebud, those who will refuse your advances are blind or foolish !”

“Or both !” Adds Loki.

“Thanks guys you’re a so so nice !” I stare at them through my foggy eyes and give each of the brother a kiss on both cheeks, a kiss that lingered for a bit.

The others understand what’s happening in front of them and couldn’t let them stay in their ignorance of their mutual attraction.

“Y/n last round FMK, Thor, Loki or myself ?” Ask Tony.

Silence. Not a sound. Nothing. Sudenly I start to whisper something.

“I’ll kill you Tony...”

“I’m...flattered I guess !” Silence again, until tis one is broken by a sob, my sob.

“I-I can’t choose it’s too h-hard ! I love them both so much it hurts ! I can’t use one and get rid of the other, it’s-it’s...heartbreaking, they both deserve so much more and way better than this !”

Loki POV

I can’t believe what I’m hearing ! Is this real or just a makeshift produced by my imagination... I see the look of the other as well as my brother. This is definitly real. I want to cry so much right now but I won’t. The fact that she didn’t pick out my brother right away as a husband or a good lay over me is so flattering. All my life, throughout the decades I’ve always been the second guess, the one no one wants or even consider... The one you forgot to invite to a party because you’re not the one people want to see. The worst would probably be in the dating area... I was courting a girl in my teenage years, I was so in love -I didn’t know it was love at the time-, she was beautiful, smart and fun to be around... It apppeared that she was with me only to get closer to Thor. The worse is he didn’t care at all about her, he never looked at her, not even once, but she won’t take no for an answer and continued to use me as a mean to an end. I was young and she was my first love, the fact that my self esteem and confidence wasn’t that high allowed her to treat me in such a way, even with my social status.

Right now hearing and seeing that she won’t blattantly choose Thor over me is mindblowing, heartwarming, endearing... I only want to take her nto my arms and never see her tormented face ever again. But I see the way Thor look at her and I understand. He feels the same way I do. How can we not, she’s smart, funny, charming, honest ad so much more. She’s been our friend almost since the beginning and never left. She’s the sister we’ve wanted but also the one woman we want to be naked with and going wild. Clearly not something we could do to ‘our sister’. 

Thor looks at me with understanding. There is a silent conversation between us only disturbed by the hiccups and sobs from y/n. Thor and I know what we have to do, we know what we want for the three of us.

“ Thor and I are going to help y/n back to her room, she needs rest.”

Every Avengers nods their heads and go back to their own rooms, the game night is over.

End of Loki POV

Thor takes me in his ams bridal stye as Loki eads the way to my room. We’re al silent, the only noise in the one from our steps. Once inside Thor put me on the bed next to Loki before sitting right beside me. 

“I’m s-sorry for ruinning the game.” I start crying again, tears pour out my eyes.

“You didn’t ruin anything sweet flower ! Loki says, getting closer to my face to kiss my tears away. You could never ruin anything.”

“But it was over some stupid thing, I feel like I’m a child !”

“Trust us rosebud, Thor takes my chin with his fingers and make me look at him, none of us, especially Loki and I see you as a child, he’s so close to my face that I can feel his breath on my lips, each words he speaks make us almost kiss, far from it actually ! The moment those words escape him, I feel him closing the gap between us with a tender but fiery kiss that make me see stars. Loki takes advantage of me being distracted to seal his own lips over the pulse point of my neck and probably giving me hickeys with the passion and fierceness he’s giving me.

Kisses are exchange between the three of us -not between Thor and Loki obviously-, some pecking, licking and groping here and there. We also talk once I’m a bit more sobber -thanks Loki for that fantastic spell-, about us, our mutual feeling, where it would lead us, the polyamory trope of our relation...

We don’t do more than that for now, despite Loki’s magic I’m still a bit off, but that does not stop us from sharing a bed all the three of us. I’m in my pyjama and they’re in their underwear, I’m in the middle of them. We start to sleep, Thor spoon me while I rest again Loki’s chest. Light pecks are share as we snuggle together. As sleep take them I decided to try something, even if we admit how we feel,I can sense they still see me as a some kind of a pure and innocent one, but I’m not. 

Slowly and quietly I lead both my hands toward each of their manly package. I feel they’re already half hard by just sharing a bed. I start gently rubbing them, ading more pressure the more hard they get. Once they’re fully erect I push my hand inside their brief and start stroking them using precum as natural lubricant. Of course they start humming in pleasure both thinking it was a dream, until a sudden stimulation of their tip wake them up with a loud and guttural moan of satisfaction. The both of them need some time to get their bearing. Once done they are utterlly arouse by the sighht of me jerking them off with an innocent look on my face as if I didn’t know the effect it had on them.

“You were right rosebud ! You’re not that innocent !” Groans Thor in awe.

“But you’re still the purest of all the nine realms !” Loki sighs thrusting his hips against my hand, too lost in his pleasure to realise it.

Words of praise, love and adoration are thrown their way until their orgasm hits them. They are out of breath, still trembling from their earth shattering orgasm. I kiss them tenderly and affectionatelly on the lips before whispering them a good night. I push back my hands in their brief to feel them once again. They both tense, a gasp escape their mouth before their both get closer to me in order to feel more of my touch. We stay this way all night, occasionnaly pumping one of them -or both-, I didn’t count how many time they came in their brief, they didn’t complained. All I know is that in the morning they were both overexert and sensitive, shaking from too much pleasure but with still twitching and leaking cocks.

I should have probably told them how kinky I am !

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This is the end of this oneshot, hope you liked reading it.

Like, Comment and Reblog are highly appreciated.

English is not my mother tongue.

[clueingforbeggs]

On the topic of humanists UK and them basically being evangelical atheists:

This is their 2008 bus ad campaign, which several people reported as it's 'probably offensive to the religious'.

And I mean, yeah. I don't think atheists and agnostic people should be shoving their beliefs in front of people like this. I feel like this is the same as if someone ran a bus ad campaign saying 'Jesus loves you, now stop worrying and join our religion'.

And on the subject of Jesus, Humanism UK has a very... Christian understanding of Religion. That religion is about worrying what your god(s) think of you and your actions, and is holding you back from enjoying your life. This is not how many religious, non-Christian people think about their god(s) and beliefs.

Also, whilst I think they have some good aims (The promotion of equality and non-discrimination and the protection of human rights as defined in international instruments to which the United Kingdom is party, in each case in particular as relates to religion and belief and the promotion of understanding between people holding religious and non-religious beliefs so as to advance harmonious cooperation in society.), those aren't their first two aims. Their first aims are the advancement of Humanism, namely a non-religious ethical lifestance, the essential elements of which are a commitment to human wellbeing and a reliance on reason, experience and a naturalistic view of the world, which is... Conversion. Their first aim is to convert people to humanism, and the advancement of education and in particular the study of and the dissemination of knowledge about Humanism and about the arts and science as they relate to Humanism. Which... Alright. Education about your belief system is cool with me. However, I do have to wonder what with the 'convert to our belief system' aim beforehand, what... Exactly do they mean by that? It sounds to me like it could easily be the humanist version of 'Have you heard of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?'

In 1977 they phrased this differently, saying they aimed to 'make humanism available and meaningful to the millions who have no alternative belief.' Which is... Still conversion, actually, just aimed specifically at atheists, which their current first aim is not. A church could say the exact same shit. And people do have alternative beliefs. Firstly, atheism is not antithetical to religion. There's quite a large overlap between atheists and Jewish people, for example (see above comment on the understanding of gods not being the same in Christianity as other religions) Heck, some Jewish converts converted as atheists.

Also, after the above pictured ad campaign, they actually tried another one in 2011, where they hoped to put up posters saying 'If you're not religious, for God's sake say so' in the lead up to the census. The ASA advised companies that there was a great chance for offence, and, yeah. As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, there are people who identify as both atheist and a religion. And it should be up to them to decide which box they tick.

Like, yes, there are points on which I agree with them, like not liking that our head of state is also the head of the Church of England, and the society did conduct (non legal) same-sex marriage ceremonies before they were allowed by law, and in making things like school assemblies and the scouts less focused on Christianity, but I don't think the way to go about it is to do so by promoting atheism, but by spreading awareness that there are people who follow other religions, and areligious people, who do not want to engage in Christianity.

They're also affiliated with EHF-FHE (European Humanist Federation - Fédération Humaniste Européenne), which I believe is... Better. I don't know that much about them, but I don't see anything about promoting the spread of humanism.

You can educate people on your beliefs without aiming to convert them to them. And also, maybe two sentences on the side of a bus isn't the right place to do so.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

✏, hotchreid, first kiss 🥺

You don’t just get a blurb honey, you get the whole damn night. I’ll eventually start writing blurbs and not full-length oneshots for these asks, but Cee (my love my family my favorite always) is who got me back into CM in the first place so yours was always going to be the long, fleshed out version. I love you so my dear. 

((P.S. Yes I’m still working on the 200follower asks xD I’m so sorry life got in the way and I discovered hcs but I’m being responsible and finishing all of these now I promise!!!))

Personal plot bunny: Hotch invites Reid over to help with a research paper/with Jack and Reid gets to see his boss all domestic and soft, and in turn Spencer just kind of fits in his home seamlessly and Hotch kisses him as he leaves.

Word Count: 3107

--

It’s a perfectly ordinary day in late November when Hotch opens his apartment door to Reid standing there in the clothes he’d worn to work earlier that day. Satchel over his shoulder, wrapped in jacket and scarf, and giving him a small quirk of a smile in greeting -- still very obviously thrown off kilter that Hotch had invited him over in the first place. 

When Reid said he’d lend him a hand on his most recent research paper, the younger agent had probably expected them to do it at the office. Interviews and research were all a big part of having a Behavioral Science subunit at the FBI, and published papers were a requirement from all BAU members to aid in this endeavor. Every team had to keep a steady output of resources and research studies going just to keep funding for the department afloat. He may be Unit Chief, but Hotch was no exception to these requirements, even with as much work as he has to put in on the regular. 

Usually, he can do his research and piece together papers in between his daily paperwork. But this week Jess is sick with a stomach flu, and Jack hadn’t gotten to spend time with Hotch in what feels like a month. So the easiest solution was obviously to invite Reid to have dinner with them at his home, entertain him while he read over the drafted paper and helped Hotch out. 

Obviously. 

The only reasonable option, really. 

“Thanks for coming, Reid,” Hotch greets back with a softened expression as he looks him up and down. “Did you even go home first?” The very first thing Hotch always does is change out of his suit when he gets home, shedding that armour as best he can to switch mindsets between Agent Hotchner of the FBI, and Aaron Hotchner the ever-stressed-out single dad. That evening donning worn jeans and a heather grey Henley to better accommodate himself within the space. 

“Oh -- no, I didn’t see much point,” Reid shrugs, then motioning to his satchel which is now filled with books that weren’t there when he’d left the bull pen a couple hours before. “I stopped by the law library in Georgetown and found a few more references, just in case you were using the Favero citations instead of Weston and I don’t have all of those read yet -- or I didn’t. I do now. But I still brought them--”

Hotch smiles, a real smile -- small as it is, but no less fond of Reid going out of his way to help him. But before he can thank him again Jack’s socked feet come thundering down the hall behind him. 

“Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer! Dr. Spencer!” And he’s slipping past Hotch, smooth and fluid as water, attaching himself to Reid’s legs and waist in a hug with a big smile that looks so much like Aaron’s own. When he’d been younger, only about three or four years old, Jack had been deathly scared of Doctor’s visits. It had been Reid’s idea to have Jack start calling him ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help alleviate some of that fear, associating the moniker with his non-threatening and familiar face. Reid had been much younger then, too, and that had helped the tactic work like a charm. Haley had been over the moon when his reverse psychology worked out so well. 

“Jack! Woah, you got taller!” Reid’s whole demeanor changes. A little more animated, more comfortable, even -- and Hotch could remember a time when Reid hadn’t even wanted to hold a child for fear of the interaction. Now, he was always the first to talk to one if JJ didn’t beat him to it. “How’ve you been?” “Good!” Jack says excitedly, barreling over the small talk in ways only children can. “Dad says you’re going to help him with his homework, can you help me with mine too?!”

Reid smiles even wider and chances a glance at Hotch that he feels in his chest. “You bet, I love helping with homework.”

Jack just scrunches his nose up at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“Homework isn’t fun.”

“Well, maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.” 

“Let’s let Dr. Reid in from the hallway,” Hotch interrupts with a laugh, herding his son and the younger agent inside. “Jack, go get your homework and you can do it at the table,” Hotch says as he takes Reid’s coat and watches him kick off his shoes by the door. Mismatched socks prominent against the hardwood floors. Making himself at home, shedding some of the layers and getting comfortable in the space much like Aaron does every day after work. “Hope you like spaghetti. It won’t be as good as Rossi’s.”

“Who doesn’t love spaghetti,” Spencer grins with a soft laugh. “Rossi’s is almost too fancy for me, anyway.”

“A man of simple tastes,” Hotch teases him.

“I’m easily impressed.”

“Lucky me.” 

It slips out, the low, comfortable banter, and Reid’s eyes are alight and Aaron feels himself smiling enough his dimples show, and he leads the way to the kitchen where dinner is already in the works on the stove. Filling the small condo with the smell of tomato sauce and garlic. 

-

Jack and Reid set up at the kitchen bartop where they can watch Hotch finish cooking and stay within reach of conversation. It doesn’t take long for Hotch to finish making dinner, or for Jack to finish his homework spurred on by Reid’s strange enthusiasm for math problems. With how much time they spend talking about psychology and sociology (and sometimes even philosophy) Hotch always forgets one of Reid’s Ph.D.’s is in mathematics. 

“Numbers just make sense,” he explains, when Hotch brings it up while drizzling olive oil on the drained pasta on the stove. “There’s always a right answer and the rest are wrong. It’s comforting, to an extent, but predictable -- that’s why I shifted focus from sciences to humanities. There’s no right or wrong answers in philosophy, it’s all argumentative. Always evolving. I prefer that, it’s no fun having all the answers.” 

And coming from someone who does always have all the right answers, that must mean something profound to the younger man. One conversation outside the walls of the BAU and Hotch already feels like he understands Reid more than he has in a long time.

--

Dinner runs so smoothly it’s as if Reid is always there for it. Jack even finishes all of his food and helps with the dishes before Hotch has to ask him to. Making the two men exchange a glance and Hotch ask, “You charge by the hour?” and Reid laughs into his water glass in reply. They end up talking a bit about the paper Hotch has been working on, along with about a dozen other things Reid launches into in side tangents -- from the books he’d read during his brief visit to Georgetown that afternoon, to his most recent philosophical debate he had with his doctoral advisor about his thesis paper he’ll have to submit at the end of next month. 

“Do you need time to piece it together? I didn’t know you were that close to your next Ph.D.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Reid waves him off. “I just need a weekend where we are actually in town and not on a case, and I’ll get it finished.” 

“I’ve been working on this paper for the past six months,” Hotch all but balks in disbelief. “How can you write a Ph.D. dissertation in a weekend?”

“Well, I’m not the Unit Chief or a single parent,” Reid points out with a gentle grin, and Hotch feels one pulling at his own lips as well. “But it’s mostly written anyway, just all up here.” He points to his head, and Hotch bets he could recite the paper verbatim with what he writes up when he has the time.

“You could always write it on the jet,” Hotch says. 

“I do,” Reid smirks, and Hotch can’t help but roll his eyes. “In my head, someone is usually taking up the table with a headstart on paperwork.”

“I think they can be talked into relinquishing some table top space,” Hotch says, until Reid gives him a look. “Oh, you mean me?”

“You spread out everything to keep it organized in piles.” 

“I’d share with you.”

“You told Rossi to use the couch last week when he wanted to answer emails,” Reid says with a barely contained laugh.

“Yeah, well, he’s not you,” Hotch admits before he can take it back, and Reid almost answers -- mouth open and everything -- when Jack comes back and is all but begging ‘Dr. Spencer’ to help him with his science fair project he hadn’t even decided on. 

--

The rest of the evening ends up with the three holed up in Hotch’s office, Reid surrounded by Law books and reading material he hasn’t gotten to sift through before, Hotch with his drafted paper printed out for Reid’s ease of access, and Jack with his science textbook and a notebook already talking Reid’s ear off about a science project for the spring. 

But once the time starts to tip into the later hours of the night, Hotch tells Jack to get ready for bed and say goodnight to Dr. Reid. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Spencer. Thanks for your help,” Jack says politely, ingrained in him by his father and Reid smiles a little too bright and soft at the same time at how sweet it is he tries to be good for company.

“You know, Jack, you can just call me Spencer if you’d like,” he says, knowing that the older boy has already outgrown his fear of the doctor and the reverse psychology is no longer needed.

Jack looks a little confused for a moment. “Dad doesn’t.” 

“Well, your dad can, too -- if he wants,” Reid says, looking to Hotch and they share a look he once again can feel in his chest. Watching the whole interaction with a carefully guarded expression, but it melts under Reid’s glance and he isn’t quite sure what is there anymore. But whatever it is, it makes Reid smile softly at him.

“Okay, goodnight Spencer,” Jack interrupts their moment, and hugs Reid around the neck from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. It jostles the younger man, and Hotch smiles wide and ducks his head down to hide it. But Reid hugs Hotch’s son back, and tells him goodnight, as well. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Reid tells him, and -- satisfied -- Jack goes off to brush his teeth, leaving the two in a lull of heavy silence. “Sorry, I think I just invited myself over, some time.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” And he means that, knows Reid knows that as he looks at him a little more soundly than before. “Not just for work.” If that needed to be said. 

And if Reid’s face flushes a little darker in the low lighting, Hotch doesn’t mention. No matter how much he can’t seem to look away.

Reid looks over his entire paper while Hotch tucks Jack into bed, and is already making notes on it at his desk when the man returns. The next hour rolls into two, and Hotch drags another chair in from the kitchen so they can share his desk and work through bullet points on the paper but… it was pretty much done, from the start. Even Reid’s edits didn’t take them long. After a while they dissolve into just talking, discussions and anecdotes and sitting maybe a little too close and laughing so much and so loud sometimes they have to quiet themselves so they don’t wake Jack down the hall. 

It’s almost 10:30 by the time they resurface from each other, before Hotch realizes Reid probably needs to go home because they both have to be at work bright and early. But this was… this was the best night he’s had in a long, long time, and he wants to do it again. Soon. More than soon. More than once. He thinks about all of this as he follows Reid to the front door and helps him gather the rest of his things. 

“We should do this again, sometime,” Hotch mentions, hands in his pockets and trying to be more cool about this than he feels.

“I’d like that, I had a lot of fun tonight,” Reid answers, standing up from tying his shoes and giving him that bright, wide smile he doesn’t always feel comfortable enough to allow. It never fails to stall Hotch in his tracks, staring a little too long at his mouth than he should be. 

“What if, next time, it’s just us? And no Jack?” he continues, elaboration just in case Reid doesn’t grasp what he’s asking. Reid is watching him with this look as if he’s unsure he heard correctly, and Hotch is nothing if not patient.

“I’d… I’d be okay with that,” Reid answers, slowly as he weighs some unseen options and gauges Hotch’s facial expressions to the most minute detail.

“Good. How about Saturday?”

He can see the moment it all clicks into place.

“...Are you asking me on a date?” Reid asks, a little winded. 

“If that’s alright with you,” Hotch says with a half smile. Once again sounding more confident than he should in the face of how Reid’s eyes start to dart around and he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know how -- how good I am with dates.” There’s a story behind that, and Hotch wants to know it, but he does his best to press Reid gently. Because… he’s been holding off asking the younger man for a long time, now, but after tonight he gets the feeling that he might not have needed to be so hesitant, after all. 

“Oh?”

“Just -- the ritual of it all always throws me off. Dressing up and going out, and making conversation over dinner while trying to eat and maintain the other’s attention, and then keeping it all going if you manage to do that I just don’t always do so well one-on-one and --”

“Reid.” He pauses, then -- “Spencer.” And that stalls his stream of thought to words, catching Spencer’s attention and snagging it in the best way. “...we just did all of that. And it was great.” Hotch knows his own expression has softened around the edges over the course of the night, smiles easier to hold, eyes more expressive, and Spencer takes in every change and nuance with a well-practice eye and is… very obviously stunned by what he finds. “So -- I’d like to do it again. Saturday?” 

Shocked, eyes a little wide, breath lost to the wind, Spencer waits a beat too long to answer. Enough to make Hotch nervous, before he answers in a sound that could have been a whisper if it had been quieter. A slight crack to it that betrays his emotion.

“Okay.” 

Hotch gets a turn to be stunned, because he thought this had been about to take a very different turn. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“--Okay.”

Intelligent men that they were, that was the extent of the conversation, and then Reid is smiling that bright, sunshine laced smile and Hotch is trying to contain his own and -- Reid still needs to go home. So, biting his lip, Reid turns as if to leave -- is just about out the door when he stops and turns back so quick he almost runs into Hotch on the threshold. 

“So… technically, that means this was our first date, then. Right?” he looks so goddamn hopeful, and like he has something further to add, that Hotch smiles outright and this time doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Technically, yes.” He supposes it was. And it really had been… a great night. Not a bad first date, at all.

Reid takes far too long trying to string together words after that. Keeps looking to Hotch then away to gather his thoughts, then back again as if in search of something; and it’s after about the third time that Hotch realizes what he’s getting at. What he’s trying to find a way to ask. 

It hits him so silent and hard it about knocks the wind out of him.

Oh.

He can do that.

Hotch steps closer, about the same time Spencer opens his mouth like he’s finally figured out the right combination of words within the range of the English language to form a coherent sentence, and they all die on his tongue the moment Hotch guides him back with a hand on his hip. He’s done it before, gentle leading when Reid strays the wrong way or needs to be shifted in a crowded room on cases, and this time is just as easy and no different.

Except this time, Hotch isn’t maneuvering them to get past him. This time, he presses Spencer’s spine to the doorframe and leans in to capture his lips with his own. Right there, in the open doorway.

Hotch kisses him, and it’s perfect.

The gentle slide of lips is over before either know it, lasts longer than his racing heart can measure, and before Hotch can decide his next move Spencer tilts in closer and kisses him back, slow and methodical and Hotch feels that. Feels it the way he’s felt every moment they had and shared the whole night. His free hand finds that sharp jaw framed in messy curls getting longer all over again, and Spencer doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands beyond grasp at Hotch’s shirt at his sides and then -- 

Then Hotch pulls back enough that he can nudge his nose against Spencer’s carefully, a punctuation that ends the kiss soft and apologetic. Silently says that’s all they can do tonight. That there’s more, awaiting them, but that… 

That had been one hell of a good first kiss.

“See you in the morning, Spencer.” 

For once, Dr. Spencer Reid is speechless in an entirely new way, and he merely nods with lips still parted and a little darker from the kiss. From kissing him, and Hotch knows he stares more than he should, but that’s been a frequent occurrence lately. It’s just getting harder and harder to turn away, watch Reid -- Spencer -- smile at him in that quiet way only ever directed at him, and then walk away. But he lets it happen, feels every step even as he shuts the door behind him.

Because Hotch will see Spencer tomorrow.

And, one day, maybe he won’t have to watch him walk away at all. 

[norarigby]

フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

Previous | Next

Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

--

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

--

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Winter soldiers on, the cold and occasional snow giving way to the promise of spring. Her birthday comes and goes, celebrated at her mother’s with her family as it had been before there was someone else to lay claim to her time on special days. The vacant spaces in her apartment that had been occupied by Ethan’s books and clothes, his toiletries, and VHS collection, begin to be filled by evidence of her new, single life. Her solitary toothbrush in the cup by the sink starts to look normal, the indent on her finger where his ring lived begins to fade, and the silence she arrives home to at the end of her workday becomes mundane instead of painful. Though this change was initiated and welcomed by her, change is always hard. She goes through the motions of being okay until one day in early April, she realizes that she is. The budding crocuses bring with them the optimism of a new life, another chance. A third chance, as it were, to get it right. Now she only has to figure out what right is.

Though they’ve always been close, she and Missy become even closer, taking up the space in each other’s lives that would otherwise be consumed by boyfriends or lovers. They are each other’s better half, sharing the minutiae of their workdays and staying available for unexpected illness or the need to move heavy furniture. While every human needs other humans to thrive, the Scully sisters fill that need with each other, shunning the idea of casual dating simply for the sake of companionship. There is no companion more perfect than the one who has known you since before you could understand the need for such a partner in life, and who is by your side not out of obligation, but because their soul is stitched so firmly to your own. They have always pledged their dedication to each other through thick and thin, and the new year of 1997 proves that to be a sincere promise on both their parts.

As such, they sit at their favorite local coffee shop on Sunday afternoon when Missy finally dares to ask her sister the question she’s avoided for the past four months. Not because she was afraid of her reaction, but because she knew Dana wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Have you heard from Mulder at all?” she asks so casually that Dana flicks her eyes up and stares in disbelief, not sure that she heard her right.

“What?” Dana asks, her heart having lept for one single beat at the mention of his name.

“Mulder. Have you had any contact with him, or seen him?” Missy is misleadingly casual, acting as though this is not a question she’s been waiting months to ask.

“No,” Dana says flatly, her eyes dropping down to her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t expect to.”

“Does he know that you and Ethan split?” Missy asks next, her feet folded underneath her in the oversized armchair.

“I don’t see how he would,” Dana posits.

“Have you considered reaching out to him?” Missy tries, watching her sister for signs that she is going to shut the conversation down.

Dana shakes her head glumly. “After what I put him through, I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to hear from. That was nearly nine months ago, he’s probably long since moved on.”

“Have you? Moved on?”

Dana pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does it mean, to move on?”

“Do you still think about him?” No assertions, just gentle questions, leading her sister to the conclusion she knows she needs to come to.

Dana nods softly. “All the time. Every day.”

“Then I think your answer would be no. You should contact him, Dana. It feels like unfinished business.” Missy has a thing about unfinished business. She believes it prevents you from achieving your full potential in life.

“Missy...what would I even say? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, good news is it didn’t even work out so it was all for nothing’? I don’t want to cause him more pain than I already have.” Her tone is resigned and defeated. Another regret she will come to live with, pinned to her lapel with a collection of other mistakes that she can never quite atone for.

Missy shrugs. “You know what I think. The rest is up to you.”

Missy is right. The trouble is, she doesn't trust herself to make these decisions anymore. She’s proven to herself that she doesn’t know how to make the right one.

———

“Excuse me,” a rough, nasally voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a red nosed young man in the doorway of the pathologist’s office, slumped against the doorframe with watery eyes. “I’m here to pick up an autopsy report, for, um...I think it’s Richards or something.”

Scully has worked with this courier before, and compared to his typical demeanor it’s easy to tell that he’s unwell.

“Are you alright?” she asks as she uses her feet to push her rolling chair over to the file cabinet, retrieving the report in question.

“Uh, not really, no. But if I call out sick one more time I’m gonna get canned.” He leans his head against the cool metal of the doorframe. She suspects he’s feverish.

“You don’t look well enough to work. Where is this headed?” she asks, still holding the file in her hand.

The young man blows out a stream of air and she holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to inhale whatever he’s infected with. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hoover Building, Behavioral Science Unit. Agent Kissop.” He stuffs the paper back in his pocket and looks around, taking refuge in the extra chair near the end of her desk.

She feels a little flutter in her belly; what are the odds?

“I’ll tell you what,” she begins, “I was just about to head out for the day and I live in Georgetown, so I’m going that way anyway. Can I drop this off for you? You don’t look well enough to drive and I’d hate to see you on the news in the morning if you cause an accident.”

He sighs deeply, the biggest display of excitement he can muster. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it,” he says, his eyelids barely maintaining half-mast.

“No problem at all,” she replies, gathering her coat and purse. “You get home and take some Tylenol, okay? And get some rest.”

He nods weakly and she leaves him there, climbing into her car with the file and a pounding heart. She can’t help but feel like this is a sign. She’s been thinking about signs a lot lately, and she’s recently resolved to start paying attention to them.

———

Mulder stands beside the copy machine, doing his Wednesday afternoon ritual of fighting with the toner cartridge and cursing profusely. From around the corner, he can hear AD Kirkbride drumming up his own song of profanity, which is more of a daily ritual than a weekly one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kirkbride is shouting. “Now that dipshit is conning goddamn doctors into doing his pathetic job?”

Another much softer voice answers him, but Mulder can’t quite make out the words. He moves closer to the open door, bored enough to bother eavesdropping and seeing which of his colleagues is going to get their ass handed to them today.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is sick, that fucking lowlife. He’s sick every fucking week, it’s always something with him!”

“Sir, I don’t know what the history is between you and the courier,” answers the other voice, and it’s familiar in a way that makes him stop in his tracks, his stomach clutching in a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Can you direct me to Agent Kissop, please? Then I’ll be on my way and you can work it out with the courier service.”

It’s Scully. It’s her, he’s sure. He’s been dreaming of that voice for months, the soft sibilant S’s and the way her plush lips rest against her adorable overbite. Without thinking, he enters Kirkbride’s office and sees her standing in front of his desk with a file in her hand and an exasperated look on her face.

“Scully?” he asks, and she turns to him. Her hair is a bit longer, now just past her shoulders, and she’s wearing black slacks and a white blouse. She’s as beautiful as ever, maybe even more than he remembered. She doesn’t look all that surprised to see him. If anything, she looks relieved. Emotion boils up in his chest immediately and he feels his throat constrict.

“You know her?” Kirkbride asks, gesturing to Scully, and Mulder nods. “Great, then show her where Kissop sits so I can call the fucking courier service and tell them to fire that lazy asshat before I strangle him.”

Scully walks towards him and he turns wordlessly to show her out of Kirkbride’s office and down the hall to where Kissop sits. His heart is beating slowly but firmly, his pulse resounding in his ears. What is she doing here? Did she come here to see him? And if so, why? When they arrive at Kissop’s desk, Scully hands her the file and they exchange words that Mulder doesn’t bother to listen to. Then Scully looks at him hesitantly and slowly turns to walk away, towards the exit. He feels suspended, unsure if he can believe his own eyes that she is really here, and entirely conflicted over what to do about it if she is. He’s spent nine months trying to forget her, but she’s as real and alive as ever, standing before him. His self-protective instinct says to let her go, but his heart says to run after her.

“Quit standing here like a dumbass and go talk to her,” Kissop orders him, clearly picking up on some tension though she doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s causing it.

Shaken from his daze, Mulder follows Scully into the hallway.

“Scully,” he calls out, and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. When he catches up to her, he touches her shoulder and she turns to face him with wet eyes.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, an expectant feeling hanging over them. He wants to touch her, to feel the press of her body against his again, but he doesn’t dare. That would seem like a relapse, of sorts.

“Would you have coffee with me?” she finally speaks, her voice small and unsure. It’s an invitation she is not at all confident he will accept.

“Okay,” he answers, and they walk out of the building side by side, silently.

They seem to understand without saying so that Mulder will lead them to where they ought to go, which is a little cafe called Burial Grounds just a block from the front doors of the Hoover Building. They stand in line stoically, tension crackling between them like static as they order something that will occupy their hands and give them a safe place to avert their eyes while they talk. They sit at a small table near the door and wait, glimpsing at each other’s faces and then away, summoning courage. Because this was at Scully’s invitation, it seems like she should have the floor.

“Ethan and I aren’t together anymore,” she finally blurts out, and his first instinct is to look at her hand, which is indeed bare of any jewelry. Next he looks at her face, considering her expression and whether she takes this to be good news or bad. She looks pained, but not about what she’s just said. She’s had this look on her face since he first spotted her in Kirkbride’s office. He’s unsure if he should be offering congratulations or condolences, and irritated that he’s being put in the position to figure it out, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure that I’m just about the last person you want to see,” she continues, her ocean irises tracing the logo printed on her cup. It wasn’t a question, but if it were he’d tell her that she’s the only person he wants to see, the only one he ever thinks about. The reason he can’t sleep and, when he does, the only thing he dreams about. “If it’s okay, there are some things I’d like to say to you. I understand if you don’t want to hear them.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his for a moment and he nods softly, keeping his expression neutral. She returns her gaze to the skull and crossbones bearing the name of the coffee shop.

“I have always believed that life is about making the right choices. That we are presented with an ongoing series of options, opportunities and situations, and that we are tasked with determining the right choice that will put us on the path towards the best possible life. But as of late,” she pauses to take a sip of her coffee, stealing a glance at him before she continues, “I’ve come to believe that there is actually only one choice. One path we’re supposed to be on, and there are signs along the way to pay attention to. The choices might not always make sense at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, they are the ones you need to make in order to have the best possible life. Or the right life, the one you’re supposed to have.”

She pauses and slides her hand across the table, covering his with her own. The soft warmth of her skin electrifies him a little, sending a flush to his belly. She brings her eyes up to meet his, her brows knit with emotion as her chin gently puckers. She’s so beautiful it physically hurts.

“I ignored the signs,” she says tightly. “I made the wrong choice, Mulder. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing, but I was wrong. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He feels his chest tighten, a telltale precursor to tears, and he looks away from her. Why is she doing this? To make herself feel better? She pulls her hand back and sniffs, then stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for having coffee with me,” she says, and then he watches her leave. He sits there, staring at the pink lipstick that stains the rim of her cup, wishing she’d given him some more time to absorb it all. Wishing she’d never made the wrong choice.

[bridgertonphd]

Trying

Rated T | Alternate Universe | @today-in-fic

As I sense is becoming a theme, Jake and Amy from Brooklyn Nine-Nine are the inspiration for this MSR fic. This conversation was the catalyst; the scenes in this fic are taken heavily from B99’s “Trying” (7.06) and “Casecation” (6.12), as well as TXF’s “Per Manum” flashbacks. This fic is set in an alternate universe.

—

They’ve been trying for exactly nine months, now. Mulder knows this because Scully keeps detailed calendars marking the specifics of it all and on the fifth day of the month nine months ago, they agreed to start trying to have a baby.

He’s bouncing his leg, waiting for Scully to get back from the bathroom with the latest test result. He heard a flush a few minutes ago, so any second now... The door to their bathroom—one that has two sinks, a bath, and a shower because she insisted—opens with a creak.

Mulder watches as she stands completely still in the doorway, looking down at the stick. “It didn’t take, did it?” he inquires, but he already knows the answer.

Scully sniffles, her face starting to crumble, and he immediately makes his way over to her, bringing her into his embrace. She wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she tries to stop herself from crying.

“It feels like it’s too much to hope for, Mulder,” she says, clutching at him amidst her sea of tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s only been nine tries, honey. Sometimes—sometimes it takes a while. We knew that going in.” Mulder strokes the back of her head, pressing a kiss to the crown.

“Yeah, but... I feel like everyone else in my life has kids, and—and I—I can’t even get pregnant with one. What am I supposed to do with my life if I’m not a mother?”

“Oh, Scully, don’t say that. You’d still be my wife... You’d still be an award-winning neurosurgeon... Even if we don’t get pregnant the old-fashioned naked-pretzel way...” He trails off as she lets out a choked laugh. “...we can try IVF, or adoption. So you’re going to be a mother no matter what, Scully. It doesn’t define you as a person, either, whether or not we conceive. You’re amazing, all day every day.”

She sniffles again and leans away from Mulder, a tremulous smile on her lips. “I know. I just...really want this. I mean, I’ve spent my whole life knowing that I was going to have kids one day, and it’s just sort of hitting now that it’s been—”

“—nine months since we started trying,” he says with her. “And if it worked the first time, we would be nearly full term.”

Scully loses a battle and the tremulous little smile falls from her face as she nods and steps away to grab some tissues. “I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong with me, you know? Not—not physically, but... Is this some sort of punishment from God? Is he telling me that I’m not good enough to be a mother?” Another tear streaks down her cheek.

“Dana, look at me,” Mulder implores, cupping her cheeks and forcing her to look up at him. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re not being punished for any perceived sins, it’s just science.”

“Science,” she repeats, glancing between his eyes.

“Yes. Science. And science says that, since we’re both healthy thirty-somethings, we’re bound to get pregnant eventually.”

Scully nods and lets him enfold her in his arms again. “I don’t know if I want to keep trying,” she whispers, nuzzling her face further into his chest.

“What?”

“I can’t keep doing this, Mulder. Even if it’s not some sort of punishment and it’s just science, I...I can’t keep looking at the negative results on these tests.” She starts to cry again, muffling her sobs against Mulder’s shirt. “I just want a baby... Is that so much to ask for?”

“No... No, it’s not.”

—

One Year Ago.

“You must be the Mulders, Dana and Fox!” Mark greets, just as handsome as Ellen had described to Scully over the phone. “Welcome, welcome. Congratulations.” He leads them into the spacious living area in his and Ellen’s new house, where a handful of people are lounging. Mulder and Scully sit down on one of the couches and wave as Mark introduces them. “We heard that you’re newlyweds. Where’d you honeymoon?”

Scully, painfully aware of Mulder’s hand possessively resting on her hip, tells a little bit of their trip to his family’s beach house, the name of which she can never pronounce. She gets cut off when her godson rushes into the room and over to Mark, whispering into his step-father’s ear.

“Alright,” Mark says, before turning him around to face Mulder and Scully. “Go say hi to Dana and Fox and then ask Mommy in the kitchen.”

“Hi, Auntie Dana. Hi, Mr. Fox.” The young boy waves and bolts off to the kitchen.

“Ah, kids. Gotta love ‘em,” Mark sighs with a smile. “Are you two planning on having any of your own?”

“Uh, yeah,” Scully answers. “We’re gonna start trying soon. I’m so glad I’ve found the perfect person to make children with.”

She smiles bashfully at Mulder and a split second later, he reciprocates.

“Dinner’s ready!” Ellen calls from the kitchen, and everyone files into the dining room.

On the way there, he catches Scully by the wrist and pulls her aside. “What was that back there?” he hisses at her, leaning so close to her face that she’s sure his back is going to hurt later.

“What do you mean?” she asks, looking up at him incredulously.

“You just lied to Mark!”

“What!? No I didn’t! What the hell are you talking about?”

He tilts his head and raises his brows. “You don’t—? Scully, you told him that we’re going to try to get pregnant soon!”

“Of course I did! I told him the truth! Why are you acting like we didn’t decide this already!?”

“We didn’t!” Mulder hisses.

“What!? You don’t remember!? I showed you a picture of Matthew swimming in the Pacific on his birthday a few months ago and I said, ‘We should do this,’ and you said, ‘Definitely, I’ll set aside some money!’”

“I was talking about a trip to San Diego! You were talking about having a baby!?”

“Yes!”

“Oh my God.”

Scully groans softly and rubs her temples. “This isn’t the place. Let’s talk about this later.”

“Yeah...”

—

The drive home is tense and silent. Not a word is spoken until they shed their coats and sit down on Mulder’s transplanted leather couch. “You don’t want children,” Scully states, hands folded primly in her lap.

He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Well, I do. And I can’t just sit around and wait until you do know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Scully. Am I getting in the way? Why don’t you just get up and leave if I’m of no use to you, then? God knows everyone else has.”

“Mulder—” she started, voice much softer.

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”

“Mulder...”

“I’m sorry that I have no idea how to be a father.”

“Mulder, stop!” Scully insisted, looking distressed, and they finally made eye contact. “Is that what you’re worried about? Whether or not you’d be a good father?”

Mulder is silent for a moment before he sighs and nods. “Yeah,” he admits, averting his eyes.

“Oh, honey... You’d be a great father. I wouldn’t want to have kids with you if I thought otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, um... I don’t think having a baby is out of the question. I just...I don’t know if I’m ready, yet. It’s all so sudden, you know? Can we wait a few months? And then we can talk about trying. I—I need to get used to the idea of being a dad.”

“Yeah, of course.” Scully rubs his back with a small smile on her face, and it grows wider when Mulder turns his head to look at her.

“We can start looking at baby names, if you want. We’ll have to come up with something cooler than ‘Fox’, though.”

They both laugh at that, leaning into each other’s embraces.

—

Present Day.

“Scully, I think that we need to take a break from trying for a while,” Mulder says, getting situated behind her in bed. “Focus on ourselves, okay?” She nods. “Remember how we met?”

Scully smiles, entwining her fingers with his over her abdomen. “Yeah. You, the rugged child psychologist; me, the savvy pediatric neurosurgeon.”

“We argued our way through Christine’s treatment.” Mulder nuzzles the side of her face, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“That it did.”

They’re both silent for a while. “Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“I want...” Scully swallows heavily. “Can we have sex tonight? For us.”

He slides his hand lower, crowding his body against hers. “Of course.”

—

Ten Months Earlier.

His wife’s been short-tempered all day with him, only talking to him about their intersecting patient, Patrick. Mulder finally corners Scully in her office as she’s packing up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

“I’m fine,” she says sharply, and he sighs heavily.

“Are you really pulling that shit again? To me, of all people?”

Scully’s facing away from him, parsing through the filing cabinets behind her desk; she stops at his words, sliding the drawer shut before leaning her forehead against the metal storage unit. That’s when he hears her start to cry.

“Oh, Scully, honey... C’mere.” Mulder walks around her desk and wraps an arm around her, giving her a nudge to accept his embrace. She does, wrapping her arms around his neck as she starts sobbing in earnest. “Did something happen to one of your patients? What’s wrong?”

Scully shakes her head and continues to cry for a few minutes. When the tears have slowed down, she sniffs and pulls away to grab some tissues and blow her nose. “No. I mean, I’ve been handling a high-intensity patient all week, as you know, so there’s that. But I—” She has to stop and blow her nose again. She meets his gaze afterwards. “I think I might be pregnant. My period’s late—I was supposed to get it a week ago. And we agreed to wait a few months so I’m scared that if I am pregnant that you won’t be ready and that everything will go to shit and I love you too much for that and—”

Mulder cups her cheeks and runs the pads of his thumbs over her lips. “It’s okay,” he tells her, voice impossibly soft. “It’s okay.”

She sniffles. “Really?”

He smiles tremulously. “Really.” She sighs heavily and pulls him in for a long hug. “Come on, let’s go home. We can stop by a store and buy some tests. Whether or not you’re pregnant, we’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” she sighs.

—

The test comes back negative so Scully musters a smile and tosses the stick away as she walks to the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

They don’t talk about it until they’re getting ready for bed and she won’t meet Mulder’s eyes.

“Scully?” he starts over the sound of her electric toothbrush.

“Hm.”

“Can I tell you something?”

She leans over and spits, turning off the toothbrush before wiping her face clean. “Of course,” Scully replies, placing the brush in its stand.

“I, uh...” Mulder fumbles, and she looks up at him. “I...I was a little bit—well, actually, a lot a bit—disappointed that the test came back negative.” He’s gazing at his wife’s flyaway baby hairs instead of her eyes.

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

Scully takes his hand and leads him to sit on the edge of the bed together. “Is it safe to assume you know that I was, too?”

He nods with a small laugh, entwining their fingers when it fades. “Do...do you want to start trying? I think I’m ready now.”

She lets out a soft gasp, her eyes filling with tears. “You mean it?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replies, voice impossibly soft. “I’m ready.” He brings his hand to her lips with a smile that lights up his eyes.

Scully lets out a tearful laugh before cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

—

Present Day, 5 Weeks Later.

Mulder jogs through the halls of the hospital until he finds Scully’s room number and bursts inside, breathless. “Scully, baby, what happened? You collapsed—you had a nosebleed? Are you alright?”

She nods, a smile on her face. Scully doesn’t look as sick as he’d feared, he notices, smoothing her hair back and tucking it behind her ears. “Does this have anything to do with how you’ve been feeling these past couple of weeks?” Mulder cautiously asks, sitting down in the chair behind him.

He moves it closer to her bedside as Scully’s smile turns into a grin. “I’m pregnant, Mulder.”

“Oh—my God, you are?” She nods. “You are! Oh, Scully...” He starts to cry as he gathers his wife into his arms as much as possible, and Scully does the same.

“We did it, Mulder,” she says, pressing a kiss to his head. “We did it.”

“Oh, I was so worried,” Mulder admits, sniffling as he lets her go and adjusts in the chair. “What did the doctors say?”

“Prenatal vitamins and a less strenuous workload. I have to drop my patient load from seven to five, and go from there. I’ll have to hand off a couple kids but I know just who to ask.”

“I’m glad.” Mulder clasps her hand and brings it to his lips. “I’m ready for this, Scully. Well, as ready as anyone can be.”

“Me, too, Mulder. Me, too.”

[emilysshortstories]

Steven Meeks Part 2

Still haven’t thought of a title but I’m liking this story so lets just roll with it. Also if someone could teach me how to put in a continue reading thing I would love you.

Words: 1607

Warnings: a bit of a love triangle? clique plot points?

My alarm clock blaring through my ears abruptly woke me up. 6:oo AM it read for I had to get ready early and stop by all my teachers' classrooms before classes actually started. They had to give me my course work for the week and I had to complete daily assignments and turn them in at the end of the day. I had the same deadlines as anyone else, just got my course work early. My old highschool was a similar format so I was used to this, just not used to waking up so goddamn early. At least this is only on Monday’s. I had United States History, Earth Science, Trigonometry, and Latin to get to before 8 o’clock. My uncle said he will explain everything to me in his classroom at 2, so I didn’t have to worry about english at least. 

Now I see why everyone that gets through this school is a fucking genuious. I have not one but two history textbooks, I have to read a chapter a day in one of them and the other I have to read and complete all the questions for a chapter every other day. I have to do a chapter, with questions, everyday in Earth science. For Trig I read a chapter Monday and Wednesday, complete a sheet of 25 questions Tuesday and Thursday, and then have a test every Friday. I was given 30 words to memorize by Friday for Latin. Yes, I’ll have a test in latin every Friday as well. At least I know my uncle isn’t a sadist and won’t give me or his students an excessive amount of work. 

I carried all four of my textbooks and school work outside with a large towel. I figured if I don’t have to be stuck in a classroom and can complete my course work on my own time, might as well make the most of it and do it in the sun away from everyone. I have 4 hours before I have to be at my uncle's classroom, so let's see how much of this crap I can get done. 

I was done with history and just started the questions for Earth Science when I heard the school bell, signaling the 15 minute passing period. Not thinking anything of it I continued my work, that is until the sun was suddenly hidden from me. “Hey Charlie, what’s going on?” I asked, looking around to see 6 other boys behind him, including ‘Steven the red head’. My smile grew as we made eye contact. “I was about to ask the same thing, what you working on?” Charlie asked me, crouching down to sit next to me with the rest of his pose following suit. “Earth science, I got all my coursework for the week this morning so I’m just going through what’s due at the end of the day”. “Sounds boring to me, but if you ever need help, meeks is the genius of this school”. Charlie said as he pointed to Steven. “I thought your name was Steven?” I asked, turning to face him. 

“What?” he said, sounding surprised at something. 

“I thought your name was Steven, at least that’s what your father called you when we first met”

“You remember that?” 

“Of course I do, so why Meeks?”

“It’s his last name” - “It’s my last name” both Charlie and Meeks said at the same time, which made me laugh a bit. 

“What do you personally prefer though?” I asked.

“Meeks.” He said very abruptly compared to his previous tone. 

“Okay, Meeks it is then, although I don’t make any promises to not call you Stevie when I’m teasing you.” I say trying to lighten the mood, everyone was just too quiet. “So you going to introduce me to the rest of your boy band Charlie?”

“Sure. This is Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson, Neil Perry, Gerald Pitts, and Richard Cameron.” This made me burst out in laughter, “Your name is Dick Cam??” I asked, this being the funniest thing I’ve heard all week, but the question made everyone start to giggle as well. Everyone but Cameron of course, who just turned as red as his hair and walked away. “Oh I’m just teasing!” I yelled as he walked, “Sorry!!” I yelled louder, hoping he heard me. “I didn’t mean to offend, I'm sorry” I say to Charlie, actually feeling quite bad. “No! That was the best thing I’ve heard in my life, how did we not notice that?” Charlie asked the boys, but no one replied, they just kept laughing. Everyone but Meeks, who was looking down at the ground and playing with a corner of my towel.

“Is my towel more interesting than my joke there Stevie?” I ask and shuffle a little closer to him while the other boys separate into their own conversation. Good.

“N-no, I was laughing I promise-”

“I’m just messing with you- Stevie” 

“Right” said with a sigh and a long pause. “Charlie was right though, you can always ask for help if you need it, even if I can’t help you I’ll point you to someone who can.” he said so fast I barely understood. 

“Thank you , I really appreciate that.” I smiled at him, hoping that would calm his nerves. “You guys don’t really see a lot of girls going to a school like this do you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Well I come in peace I promise. Even if my jokes can seem a bit pointed at times.”

We both looked up at each other and held eye contact, much like the moment we first met. Yet this time it was deeper, like we understood what we were trying to say to another without having to come out and say it. I hoped he could see how much I liked him and would do something about it, but our moment was rudely interrupted by the school bell. 

“Alright, time to go back to prison.” Charlie said, standing up, the boys following suit once again. Every boy but Meeks. “I-I-I’ll see you around Y/N” he said. “What time do you have English?” I asked a little too suddenly. “We all have it at 2” Charlie answered for him, ‘goddamnit let him answer his own questions man.’ “Great, my uncle told me to stop by his classroom at that time, so I’ll see you then” I said with a smile, only looking at Meeks, hoping to not only make eye contact again but also get Charlie to get the hint. “Bye” Meeks said to me. “Bye”.

It’s hard to focus on Earth Science after that, but I tried my best and actually finished all my questions and my trig chapter by the time 1:45 rolled around. Getting up, gathering up all my stuff, and heading to his class. I had my paperwork in my hands underneath the textbooks, with the towel draped on top, slightly obstructing my vision. “Fuck” I said as I reached the english building doors. Going outside was easy when all I had to do to open the doors was lean against them, but now that I was faced with a handle bar I had to pull. This was proving to be a lot more difficult than I had initially anticipated. Trying to balance everything into my left arm, I reached out my fingers to grasp the door, too scared to move my whole arm, and moving my towel into my chest with my chin so I can see what I’m doing. Even that didn’t work unfortunately as my towel fell to the ground. Closing my eyes and heaving a deep sigh, only to open them and see Meeks picking up my towel. “Thank you” I said thinking he was going to put the towel back on the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but started to blush when he draped it over his own shoulders and opened the door for me. I walked through the door- “Here” Meeks said from my left before taking two of my three textbooks out of my hands. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you” I said, impressed with how kind he was. “No problem, I can help you take these to your room before two is you need?” he asked, now being able to look me in my face without books in the way. “Thanks, yeah it's just right in here through Mike’s office.” I said, leading the way, hearing Meeks chuckle behind me. “What?” I asked, turning around. “Nothing, just I’ve never heard anyone call Mr. Keating ‘Mike’ before”. “Oh, sorry about that, to me he will always be uncle Mike”. “That’s okay, I liked it”.

We walked in silence to my room where Meeks set my books down on my desk. “We should get to class, I have no idea what my uncle has planned” I said. “Okay”. ‘Not a man of many words, endearing.’

“All of you know my niece, Y/N. Mr. Nolan said that she wouldn’t be attending any classes but seeming that I plan to listen to opinions and presentations, so giving her a bunch of paperwork really wouldn’t be the best idea. So she will be joining this class, any questions? No, okay good now let's go.” My uncle preached before just waltzing out of the classroom. I knew he wanted me to follow him but the others who didn’t know how my uncle can be just seemed confused. So I said “That means he wants us to follow him” and I walked out of the classroom on the same path as my, sometimes strange, uncle Mike. 

[pinkispoggers]

2121 | Lance Bishop x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: therapy and suicidal thought mentions, ALSO SMUT

Previous chapter: Questions Lead to Answers

Please Read!! Hi, so I just want to let you know that this will not be the last chapter, there will be more! And please, please, pleaseeeee (if you can) go read the Marvel Aliens Comic. It will help with the understanding of "therapist/shrink Bishop". And plus, it's good. Also Tw for Suicidal thought mentions and Therapy in general. (Also one more thing. The grammar fucking sucks (I think and I know) and none of this makes a shit bit of sense)

Words: 4.8k

enjoy!

When you wake up from Cryosleep, Bishop is nowhere to be found, just like you expected but you couldn't worry about him right now, you had to be on time for the next sleep, back to earth where you heard you would be hooked up with a new therapist like every marine and crew member was. You didn't exactly know why but you rolled with it.

As you were preparing to go to sleep in the second cryo, you heard a familiar voice talking and then walked in, it was Bishop, half-naked of course. He hopped into another sleeping chamber, but before his shut, he had a few last words. "Y/n, I left something in your bag…" and then he shut his lid by himself. "Something in my bag? What?" You whisper as you are being shut in, and there goes your second sleep.

You wake up… in a hospital? You suspected everyone did but you weren’t sure. You groggily sit up, trying to really see where you were. Yep, a hospital room with one nurse sitting in the back of the room, right next to you. "Hello?" You say and the nurse gets startled. "She's awake!!" The nurse called and a bunch of doctors rush in. "Woah- woah, woah, woah, what's going on…" you say tiredly. "Well, you have been in a coma for 2 days and we are going to let you go in 2 days. Is that OK with you?" "Yeah that's fine." You say, not really knowing what's going on.

_______________________________

The 2 days have passed and you are ready to go to your new home, a lovely little one-bedroom apartment. You get in a taxi and you are off. While you are sitting with all your things, it pops in your brain, that "thing" Bishop had given you. You can't get it now, as all your things are in the trunk of the taxi.

You arrive at the new place, feeling a little nervous, but you calm yourself. It's only 2 stories, and it's the only apparent in a few blocks. The only one you could get. You step inside. Yours is on the top floor, but stairs were all good to you. You get up there, and unlock the door.

It's beautiful! It's the perfect apartment to you. You sigh. There's a couch in the middle of the place, up against the wall, and you sit on in, grabbing your stuff and opening one of the bags. You don't know what you are looking for, but you knew you were looking for something foreign. "Aha!" You say as you found it. A chip.

"A chip?" You whisper. You get up, chip in hand and head over to your computer, in your bedroom. You plug the chip in and something pops up.

WEYLAND-YUTANI CORP

W

BUILDING BETTER WORLDS

A bunch of information came up.

BISHOP-MODEL- 341-B

And other things like relations, hyperdyne information, and others you had no care about. "It's… it's you…" you say softly. He had given you a copy of himself, his system.

You wanted to start crying. You were grateful for this, but you had no way to put this to use. That was the sad part. You leave your computer open and lie down on your bed. It's not the most comfortable, but it's something. You fade off to sleep after almost 30 minutes of pondering.

The next day

You stumble out of bed, staring at the ceiling. You had almost forgot you had your first session of therapy today. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

You left your apartment, saying goodbye to the only plant you owned, on a tiny windowsill. You called a taxi and waited out front. Every moment that passed, you spent worrying about who you would get, what you would talk about, ya know, stuff like that. The taxi arrived and you headed off, not thinking anything of the trip until you saw a sign that said: WEYLAND-YUTANI CORPS

"Ah fuck" you mutter. You really didn't like the Weyland-yutani corps cause you thought it was really fucked up. What they were doing there behind closed doors, but you held up your end as a loyal Crew Member and Science officer… like Bishop.

You get out of the car and feel the air around you, it's nice. You step into the big building, guards letting you in and escorting you to the office where you would wait for your new therapist. You fill out all of the forms you need and sit and wait.

Almost 30 minutes later someone comes out and guides you to the office and walks away without saying a word. Anxiety was tearing at your chest, you felt like you were being pulled down but then the door opened. A tall, about 5'10 man looks (up/down) at you and a shiver goes down your spine, it's a Bishop model. "Uh-" you stumble on your words. "Is something wrong?" He asks and you shake your head and walk in as he holds the door open for you.

You go to sit down at a chair across from another chair on the other side of a dark oak desk, the big Weyland-Yutani corps logo and a blue-green wallpaper all around the room. The Bishop model comes to sit down across from you and grabs a laptop from a bookshelf in the side of the room. He opens it and jots down a few notes before striking up a conversation.

"Hello miss L/n, how are you doing today?" He said and you shivered in your seat. That beautiful voice. But it wasn't like the model that you meant. "I'm fine" you said blankly, wanting to say more, like you knew him, but you didn’t. "I- I mean I'm good!!" You change your mood so he doesn't suspect anything is wrong.

"Sorry to ask again but, is there something you want to tell me, to talk about.?" He says looking up at you with beautiful eyes. "Shit, uh… well… i- this is kinda hard for me cause I knew another Bishop model. And well…" you didn't want to give all the details because you honestly didn't want anybody knowing about your sexual relationship with the synthetic. "Ah, 2 other people that I've met with have! My model seems to be popular" He smiles.

You smile gently then peer over him to see a picture of some… familiar Marines? And was that… you? "Bishop?" You ask "yes miss L/n?" He says. "Can you tell me about that photo behind you?" You ask and he nods. "Well, that's supposed to be me before my memory chip was taken out, no one knows where it is so I was transferred to the therapy unit, given a new chip, and here I am!" He put his hands in prayer position, just fingers touching.

"Do you- do you see that woman on the side?" "Yes, she kind of looks like you!" He smiles. "That's because it is! Oh Bishop, before you gave me… I mean you lost your chip, we were friends!" You smile back "oh… you are a beautiful woman miss L/n. I wish to get to know you better!" He says and you blush hard. "Same?" You blush.

You begin to talk about the things you would normally have talked about with a random person, but a little more comfortable. He asked you things like any suicidal thoughts, or any thoughts of hurting others or yourself, things like

that. You talked about your friendly relationship with Bishop and the Marines, and how you met Bishop and the others. Overall it was a comforting talk. He made you feel safe.

The end of the meeting finally came and you felt great! You found this very helpful and calming. He taps your shoulder on the way out. "I never caught your name." He says. "Y/n!" You reply. He smiles. "Such a beautiful name" and you blush. You smile at him and walk out. You felt amazing! He shuts the door behind you and you smile and blush as butterflies fill your stomach.

You walk out of the building with no care in the world. You felt free, not locked up in the Sulaco, or in your apartment, the only difference would be you could leave your apartment any time unless you felt unsafe. You sit down at the desk with your laptop and see the same stuff as yesterday. "Shit." You say as you had missed the opportunity to tell him about it.

You stare blankly at the notes, not seeing anything wrong until you scroll down the page. "What?"

⚠️ERROR

CHIP MAY BE DAMAGED

PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS ⚠️

"Hm?" You say as you take out the chip to inspect it and you see a tear on the side of the chip. You pay no attention to it as you need to sleep. You put it down on the table and head to your bed. You lie in your bed, thinking of him, Bishop. All the things you could have talked about, showed him. Maybe next time you can. You finally fade off to sleep.

A week later

"RING RING RING" the alarm sounds. "Oh fuck off" you reply to the ringing in your head. You slowly get up from the bed, knowing what today was. Another meeting with Bishop. That lit you up with joy. You had a great idea… probably not the best, but to you it was great. You went over to the computer, grabbed the chip and put it in your pocket. You got some clothes on and rushed outside, forgetting breakfast, as you were too excited for the day. You reach for your phone to call a Taxi and it's there within minutes.

Inside his office______________

"Hello Y/n!" He starts the conversation, which you knew could go two ways. "Hello Bishop! How are you?" You ask. "Oh i'm just fine! How are you?" He returns. "I'm good! I have something to show you!" You say as you pull the chip out of your pocket. "What could that be? He asks and then he sees it. "Hm? A chip?" He asks "mhm! Yours. It's your missing chip. Look, you're not going to remember this but you gave it to me before going into our second cryo sleep." You say shyly, feeling connected to him, but also feeling difficulty to breathe, not knowing how he is going to react.

"No, sadly I don't remember, but I am going to need that." He says, holding his ground. "Fuck. Bishop, please understand, this was basically a gift… please, please notice that." You cry. "I'm sorry Y/n, please give it here" he laments. Before you could say, or do anything else, you got an idea, and not a good one. "No." You say as you get up and walk out of the room. "Fuck fuck fuck!" You say as you start to speed walk as you see he is right behind you.

You turn a corner but he sees you. You head towards the exit of the back rooms. He follows and you run out of the exit, hiding behind a side wall. You grab your phone and call a Taxi. Within 5 minutes it's here and you bold out from behind the wall, Bishop watching from behind. He just stands there, knowing you are going to try to get away, but he has a task that he needs to fulfill. Getting that chip. You hop in the car and you are off.

A few minutes later you are close to your house but you see a car behind you. You are in the back seat of the taxi, so you can easily turn around but you already knew who it was. It’s been a few more minutes and you knew it was him because why would anyone be following you this long? You reach your apartment and say thank you to the already worried driver and run in before Bishop could get out of his car.

"Shiiiit" you whisper as you run up the stairs, looking out for him through the space between the railing and he's already there, about to come up the stairs. He looks up into your eyes and a chill rolls down your spine. You run into your apartment, making sure he saw which one it was. You leave the door wide open and run into the closet across from your bedroom. Your bedroom door is shut and you hope he thinks you're in there. "Y/n?" He calls and you giggle.

You guessed he heard you because you could hear footsteps coming to the bedroom door. You slowly walk towards the inside of the closet door, plotting how you are going to go through with this. You know about Weyland-yutani synthetics and most of their anatomy. You remembered that there is a slot in his neck and you have to be careful because it could damage him if you are too rough. You plan it out within the next few seconds. You burst out.

You grab hold of his neck and wrap one leg around his torso. You're eying the slot behind his ear, barely covered by his ear. You snatch it out before he has time to react and you grab the other chip from your pocket as the other falls to the ground. You shove it in the slot and just before he can lay a hand on you, his

arms drop to his sides and you jump off of him backing away into the corner of the room as he turns around.

He's seeming to scan the room and then his beautiful eyes lock with yours. "Y/n?" He says and you nod happily. "How? How did you get me? Ho-" he said as you cut him off with a hug "doesn't matter, I missed you Bishop" you hop up to kiss him but he pushes you off. "Bishop?" "Sorry Y/n, something happened, I'm not sure what it is" He walks out of the room to go sit down on the couch in the living room, just leaving you in the closet. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself. He did not just do that, you thought.

You walk out of the closet slowly and walk over to the couch to sit next to him, to see if you could make things a little less awkward. "Hey… are you ok?" You ask softly. "No actually. Something in my system is off. I'm trying to figure out what it is at the moment. Sorry for any discomfort that I may have caused back there." He said unsure of himself, but you could tell that he knew what he did back there and that he was sorry. You easily forgave him and tried to sit beside him on the couch.

You try to get closer to him and he let's you. You rest your head on his shoulder and he pushes you off, again.

"Bishop? What's wrong, you weren't like this before." "Again, I'm sorry Y/n something in me is twitchy. I'm trying to resolve the problem right now." He says, staring into space. "Your chip?" You ask, remembering the warning on the computer screen when you plugged it in. "Maybe, do you think it's damaged?" He asks "well I was looking at it yesterday and it had a tear in on the side.

I could try to repair it? You say and he nods. "Can I?" You ask as your hand reaches up to his neck and he nods. But before you could take it out, a large hand hovered over your neck, then softly grabbing it and pulling you closer to him. He kisses you, pulling you in, gripping your hair, or what he could grab. You missed this, you missed this greatly, and you never wanted it to end but it had to, you knew it was a glitch. You reached your hand up to the back of his neck and behind his ear and pulled the chip out.

He went blank, and you pulled away from him, looking at his glassy eyes. You hop up from where you're sitting, making sure he's ok, and you walk to your room. You inspect the tear on the chip and try to push it together but nothing is working. "Fuck" you mutter. You go over to get the glue from the corner of the table. You had a gut feeling you would fuck it up even more, but you only wanted him back and that's what was driving you.

You smeared the glue around the crack and smushed it together with little force but it stayed and your mood lightened, honestly thinking this was gonna work. You ran to the living room, excited for this to work. You hopped on the couch, Indian style in front of him and hugged his lifeless, synthetic body. You reached over and gently plugged the chip into the socket and he awoke.

As he began to blink, he started to gaze around the room until he found you. "Y/n, did it work?" He asks. His first words since you put the chip in. "I think it did!" You shake happily. He leans in for I kiss and you happily kiss him. It doesn't last long but it's something alright!. He gets up from the couch without warning and goes to the kitchen. "What are you doing Bishop?" You ask and he looks back at you and winks. "Hm…" you whisper to yourself and turn on the TV.

A few minutes later

Your favorite show is on and you are comfortable where you are at. Bishop strides into the room with a plate in hand. "Awww… you didn’t have to!" You say and he nods gently. "Well, you have helped me and now I shall give you something back." He says and you blush. He walks over to you to give you your favorite food. "How did you know this was my favorite?" "I have no clue, but I do know how to cook and make some things." He laments and you smile widely as you take the plate and dig in.

As you finish your meal, he is hooked to the TV screen. "It's a good show isn't it?" You laugh as his eyes are wide open, barely

blinking. "Oh my gods Bishop, you are hooked," you say as you lean onto his shoulder. He doesn't stop you this time and you smile. "A very good show" He murmurs. "I know right. I'm obsessed with it." You say and he chuckles. His hand reaches to your leg and gently glides up and down. "Oh Bishop let's move this to the bedroom." You smirk "Oh? Alright," He picks you up in bridal style.

You gasp but you are ok with it. When you reach the bedroom, he lets you down onto the bed slowly. He unbuttons his shirt and throws It aside. You reach to take of your shirt but he's already there, ripping it off with no hesitation. "Bishop- that was one of my favorite shirts," you say, a little angry. "My apologies Y/n'' he says as he kisses you deeply and you kiss him back. "Apology accepted" you smile on his lips. He takes one breast in hand and fondles with it slowly. "Oh…" you moan and he smiles and pushes his tongue against your teeth and you let him in.

Before you could do anything else, he pulls off of you and pulls his pants and boxers down and you see him. All of him. Fully hard, pressed against your leg. He slowly pulls down your pants and underwear in one and he sees all of you. You smile nervously and he nods. "I won't judge, I've seen you before, remember?" He says and you nod. His large hands push your legs apart and pushes you up to the bed frame, holding you up 4 inches above the bed, arms wrapped around your torso so you don't fall.

He starts a trail of kisses up your leg and you shake a little, knowing what he is going to do. He reaches your sex. "Is this ok?" He asks and with a quiet "mhm" his tongue delves into your folds and you let out a gasp. His tongue circles around your clit slowly and your knees shake. One of your hands reaches over to grip his hair and the other, to grip the sheets for support. His slow circles got faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. you're shuddering, and quivering under him.

"Bishop… oh! I'm gonna-" he cuts you off applying the perfect amount of pressure to your clit and you explode with pleasure. "Ah-AH!!" You scream, knowing you have neighbors but you couldn't give a shit right now. Your chest is rising and falling as you are still in his arms, coming down from your high. "B- Bishop… you're too good for me" you laugh and he rises from your heat and smiles.

He sets you down on the bed gently and grips the sides of your waist. His cock is even closer to your pussy than before. You move your hips closer to his stomach and he takes the hint as he lines himself up with your entrance. You moan out for him to continue and as soon as you know it, his tip is in, letting you adjust to his size. "Please" you moan with soft eyes looking into his. With a snap of his hips, his cock is all the way in you, and you scream out his name.

"Are you ok with this?" He asks. "Mhm!" You say, holding back tears. He slowly starts to thrust and he leans down on you and buries his head in your neck. everything that is coming out of his mouth are moans and grunts. Your eyes roll back into your head and your head is chin up. "You're doing- s- so good." You call out. He smiles, leaving a trail of kisses up your neck as one hand makes it to your neck and grips it lightly. He speeds up his pace and the pain quickly turns into pleasure.

You wrap your arms around him as he's pumping in and out of you, your nails digging into his back, feeling around it but also trying to get a grip on him. He sucks on the skin of your neck, leaving a light bruise there, and you moan softly. As he's pounding into you, you notice that the bed frame is wiggling out of place but you couldn't care less. Every thrust is hitting your G Spot and a single tear falls down your face.

One of his hands reaches down to your clit, while the other tightens around your neck slightly, to a comfortable position. "Ah! Bishop!!" You yell out and his thumb speeds up against your clit. Your legs begin to shake, and your hand grips the sheets. He grunts loudly, and his thrusting speeds to an unhuman pace and you are in a heaven on earth. You are moaning

his name, quite loud but you didn’t care if anyone heard.

"D- don't stop" you moan out and he grunts as he pounds harder into you, a finger faster around your clit. His thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier as he began to grunt even more. With one more thrust came a loud "CRACK" from the back board of the bed frame. You couldn't think straight with all the pleasure coursing through your veins, making you feel ecstasy."f- fuck… the bed frame!" You say bet he shushes you. "Im- i- im-" you try to make out but he whispers in your ear "Please do my love." As he applies more pressure to your clit. And you cum violently around his cock, moaning his name, and scratching his back wildly.

As you are cumming around him, a hot liquid shoots into you and you quiver under him one last time. He falls on top of you, not too harshly, but hard enough to make you squeak. You try your best to push him off of you but he won't budge. He finally notices he might be hurting you and pushes himself up. Right before he could say something, or smile even, you pushed him off of you, and under you. "Y/n?" He smirked and you positioned yourself over his cock, hovering on top of it, looking into his cow eyes.

"I'm not done, Bishop" you sigh and smile, a little self conscious but you knew he wouldn't judge. You moan as you lower yourself onto him and his head flies back onto the pillow and he lets out a low groan. You position yourself so that you are sturdy enough to start moving. You start to move up and down on him and he grabs hips gently. He's helping you move on him and you start to smile, one hand playing with your clit, and the other on his soft chest.

"Oh!" You shout and he grunts, you assume to speed up, so you do. He's moving his hips to the rhythm of your pumps. You flung your head back, do to all the pleasure and body heat emitting off of you and him. Every thrust he made would send you into a galaxy full of stars that you've never seen before. The pace was perfection; The strength was immaculate; The feelings that you felt were like nothing you had ever experienced before, and all you could think about was hoping this moment never ended. He's perfect. He's lifting you up and down his shaft and everything goes numb for a second but you are holding on perfectly.

You look into his eyes as he looks back into them with a gleam in his. You keep a stare on him while he's making you feel like you could explode. You rock your fingers around your clit even faster than before. You are a moaning and panting mess above him, but you held eye contact with him until you couldn't see straight anymore. "Im- MPF," you say as you pulse around his cock, cumming for the last time. As your walls are gripping his length, his legs are slightly convulsing under you. He left you buzzed. You wondered if he could actually feel something, or what it was like for him.

As you are coming down from your high, he's trying his best to sit up. He does and hugs you while you are still on him. You breathe hot against his neck, panting, and slowly letting go of your grip on him. He begins to massage your scalp; it feels amazing. Then without warning, he lifts you off of him and you gasp. He sets you down beside him and you get under the sheets but he just lies there. You snuggle close to him and he stretches one arm around you and you bury your head into his underarm.

"Hey bishop…" you say and he turns his head your way "How did you emit that much heat when I was riding you?" You ask and he chuckles "Ok, so let me make it simple; it's kind of like when a computer heats up because there is too much going on in the system processor, or anything else that would make it slower or heated." He says with a wide smile. "Oh… was I overheating you?! I'm so sorry!" You cry but he laughs again "no, it's not your fault, it's all the energy building together in me." He says and you connect the dots after a second. "Wait, wait, wait, so you're telling me-" you say but he cuts you off with a nod.

"Yes, when I participate in sexual activities, such as intercourse, my system will

create sudden bursts of energy. It does not hurt me but I do feel it. It's… pleasuring, so I can produce a human-like orgasm." He laughs once more. His laugh is so sweet. "Wait, so have you ever Masturbated before?" You ask and he nods "Yep, multiple times. Just to feel something, anything really. It's not a required function, it's just something I do to "feel good,"" He answers. You thought it was quite sad that he only did that to feel, but it also made you glad that he could actually do something like that, to take care of himself, his body, like that.

He slowly sits upright on the bed and you frown "What's wrong?" You ask and he shakes his head. "Nothing, I just don't sleep." He says firmly and you forget he's a synthetic for a split second. "Well, what are you going to do all night?" You ask. "I think I might watch that show and make you something in the morning." He smiles and you yawn "I'd like that very much." You smile back, hugging him one last time before laying back down and heading off to sleep.

Tag list: (I heard you were really interested!) @soggy-enchilada :)

[pennamesmith]

For Want of a Skeletor

Entrapta hosts a Princess Alliance meeting at the Crypto Castle and absolutely nothing goes wrong. More Skeletor stories!

*

The lights were on late in Dryl. 

Stars shone outside the windows. Entrapta sat hunched over her desk, studying datapads and readouts. A polite cough from the laboratory door caused her to look up from her work.

“Oh! I’m sorry Hordak, did I wake you?”

Her partner stepped softly into the room and shook his head. “Imp did. You know how he gets when either of us take too long to come to bed.” 

Hordak crossed the cluttered floor and joined Entrapta at the desk. He was holding Imp in his arms, and the smaller, winged clone whined plaintively when he saw her. Entrapta kept her screens on, but leaned gratefully into Hordak’s side and curled a tendril of hair around his waist. She yawned, despite herself. 

“I know. I just want to make sure I get everything right before the other princesses come over tomorrow.” She glanced back at the data, nervously tapping her fingertips together. “I’ve never hosted an Alliance meeting before! And this rescue will be our biggest mission since… well, you know. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Hordak smiled. “Your diligence is admirable. But I also seem to recall someone telling me that imperfections are beautiful.”

Entrapta stuck out her tongue. “No fair.” 

“I’m afraid the science is sound. Come to bed, my dear.” 

The scientist scoffed, but she did not protest when Hordak gathered her up in his arms. She wrapped more of her hair around him, and Imp settled sleepily in the resulting nest. Entrapta could already feel herself drifting. 

“You will be a shining star tomorrow,” Hordak promised, as he carried his family back to rest. 

“Tomorrow,” echoed Imp.

*

The next day saw the Crypto Castle’s largest meeting room filled with princesses, dignitaries, and other honorary Alliance members. While Scorpia and Perfuma admired the tiny refreshments laid out for everyone, Mermista split her time between groaning at Sea Hawk’s boasts and trying every available chair to find the most comfortable one. Glimmer and Bow stepped uneasily around the edges of the room, watching carefully for anything that might be a trap, and Frosta followed their lead. Netossa and Spinnerella tried their best to find a chair Swift Wind could sit in. 

Adora and Catra, wearing increasingly baffled expressions, were conversing with two domestic-looking robots who sat at the head of the table next to Entrapta. One was tall and skinny, and the other wore a welded-on handlebar mustache. 

“Entrapta has parents?” Catra was asking, her face a galaxy of disbelief. 

“Adopted, technically. Or adapted,” the skinnier bot explained. “We’re Entrapta’s parental units. She built us when she was six. You must have seen the painting in the foyer.” 

“Yeah, we’ve been here pretty much the whole time,” the mustachioed model added. “You kids sure made a racket during your last few visits. What was that all about?” 

“Uh,” Adora faltered. 

To her immense relief, Hordak swept into the room at that very moment, flanked by Imp, Emily, and the reprogrammed Horde drone Entrapta had dubbed ‘Skeletor.’ 

“Welcome, everyone,” Hordak boomed, bringing the gathering to a respectful hush. 

“Witless fools! I’m in charge now! And if you know what’s good for you you’ll do as I say!” Skeletor shouted. 

Hordak scowled and shooed the fussing robot away from the table. “Pay no mind to that one,” he grumbled once he’d regained the floor. “Now then. Please allow me the honor of introducing the unparalleled mind who has made this operation possible, Princess Entrapta.” 

“Thank you all for coming!” Entrapta started, while everyone took their seats. “I know you’re all excited about what we’re planning, but there’s still a lot of preparation to do before we can take off. As the chief science officers for this mission, it’s vital that Hordak and I gather as much data on your abilities as possible! Interdimensional travel is severely unpredictable and —” 

“Hold on,” Mermista interrupted. “Exactly how high are the chances of us getting mutated by cosmic space energy or whatever? Because I only want cool mutations, not gross ones.” 

“Maybe thirty, thirty-five percent?” Entrapta guessed. She shrugged. “A lot of this is theoretical. You guys will be like my guinea pigs! By which I mean the small robotic animals in the castle I protect and care for. And experiment on, sometimes.” 

She laughed heartily. Glimmer and Bow shared a nervous glance. Perfuma turned slightly green. 

Entrapta regained her composure and pointed back to the display board. “Ahem. Anyway, the good news is we already know some things about where we’re going! Probably.” She shuffled her notes, gaining confidence as she spoke.

“Before Adora found the Sword of Protection, historians debated ancient records of She-Ra. Some claimed she was called ‘Her-Ra’ and fought for the ‘Power of Grayskull.’ But I theorize that what those archaeologists actually uncovered was evidence of —”

“I have a question!” Frosta yelled. “Will there be hunky guys in the other dimension? I’m asking for a friend.”

“It’s funny you mention that, actually,” Entrapta replied. “Listen, just let me finish and…” 

Unfortunately, anxious impatience had already gripped the assembled Alliance members. They clamored with questions, all talking at the same time. Entrapta shrank back in her seat and pulled her welding mask down, seeming to reach for something under the table. 

Hordak stood up. Just as it looked like he was about to do something violent, a loud alarm sounded and the lights in the room flashed red. 

“Uh-oh.” Entrapta glanced around at the assembled company. “Um, get ready to tuck and roll everybody!”

“Get ready to what?” Mermista cried out, but it was already too late. Multiple trap doors swung open across the meeting room floor, and with flailing limbs and startled shouts the guests were sent tumbling down chutes in every direction. In moments they had all vanished.

“I always feel so much better after doing something bad!” Skeletor cackled. “Now we begin phase two!” 

*

Adora and Catra, who had clung to each other as they fell, landed with a bump in a darkened, underground space. As soon as they arrived, bright lights flickered to life and a huge screen lit up against the wall. 

Entrapta’s face appeared on the monitor, larger than life. “Oh good! You’re alive,” she chirped when she saw the other two. 

Adora clambered to her feet. “Entrapta! What’s going on?” 

The scientist glanced away. “Well, I guess Skeletor didn’t like that we were ignoring him. So he stole my map of the castle and activated the security systems! Which means we’re all lost in the labyrinth until I can catch him. Isn’t that great?” 

“It’s something,” Catra groaned, rubbing her head. 

“Exactly! Now, without my map I can’t come find you. But if you can make it through the traps, the hallway you’re in should take you back to the meeting room. Then you’ll be safe until I can fix things!” 

The screen dimmed again before Catra or Adora could protest. Left with few other options, they turned to get a good look at whatever dangers lay ahead. 

They were standing at one end of a long corridor. Square blocks floated along its length, suspended in midair with anti-gravitational tech. An interrogative punctuation mark flashed on one, while a squat robot with painted-on angry eyebrows shambled slowly back and forth beneath it. 

Catra took it all in. “You have got to be kidding.” 

Adora had already drawn her sword and begun to venture forward. Catra was about to follow her, when something made her ears flick. A suspicious frown crossed her face.

“Hey, Adora!” Catra called. “Listen!” 

“What?” 

Catra pressed her ear to the wall. “There! Do you hear that?” 

“Obviously not,” Adora huffed. “Now stop dawdling, the first puzzle looks pretty easy.” 

Catra stayed where she was. “Hold on a second. This part of the castle feels familiar. I remember walking through here back when, uh, back when it was still Horde territory.” She coughed awkwardly, and then reached up to tilt the frame of a big-eyed kitten painting. “Look!” 

Something clicked and the wall slid open, revealing a new passageway. Distinctive laughter could be heard coming from the other end of it. A purple neon sign reading “Secret Entrance!!!” buzzed to life. 

Adora sighed and rolled her eyes. 

“One time Entrapta had me and Scorpia over for a life-size Snakemen and Ladders game that got a little out of hand,” Catra explained as they entered the tunnel. At the far end there was a brightly lit office; inside, it was filled with laboratory equipment, video monitors, and a humble but dignified desk. 

Hordak was sitting at the desk, in what appeared to be a smaller version of his old Fright Zone throne. It swiveled. Entrapta was sitting on the desk, and she waved as the other couple entered. 

“Myaah! Sleep gas and stun-rays only, my evil minions!” muttered Skeletor, who was busy working the video monitors. On closer inspection, Adora realized that each of them showed some of the other princesses as they traversed the castle labyrinth. 

“Welcome to mission control!” Entrapta sang, spreading her arms wide. “Hordak didn’t think you’d find us, but I had a hypothesis you might.” 

“It was a ruse!” Adora gasped, scandalized. “You’re not lost at all!” 

“You really need to hang out with Entrapta more if that still surprises you,” Catra observed. She looked at the monitors. “Ah, are they gonna be okay?” 

“Better than!” Entrapta sprang off the desk, hanging by her hair as she showed off multiple datapads. “Everyone was getting a little… distracted upstairs, so I just decided to speed things up a teensy bit! The princesses using their powers to escape the maze will let me get all the readings we need, and then we can have a nice little party! I had the baker make tiny cakes.” 

“I made sure Hordak’s doomberry pie was especially tasty!” Skeletor piped up. 

“And it’s all perfectly safe!” Entrapta promised. Discreetly, a ribbon of hair reached out to push a blinking button. On the monitors, Mermista and Sea Hawk were rescued from a robot shark attack by a convenient change of the currents. 

“This is hilarious,” Catra laughed, looking more closely. On one of the screens, Swift Wind was gleefully running loop-de-loops along a curving racetrack. “I think they’re actually having fun in there. Can we stay and watch?” 

“I’m afraid not,” Hordak said. She-Ra’s — and your — assessment is the most important of all. But we’d love to have you over to the castle for dinner soon. Shall we say eight o’clock next week?” 

“That sounds nice!” Adora chimed, before Catra could stop her. 

“Splendid. I’ll cook,” Hordak concluded. Then he pressed a button on his desk, and a trapdoor sent the younger women plummeting through the floor. 

Catra and Adora yelped in surprise, only for their fall to be cut short by an enormous pile of pillows on the level below. They struggled to their feet. Another corridor stretched away in front of them, filled with further challenges. Floating gold coins, each about four feet tall, indicated a pathway. 

“Try not to have too much fun,” Hordak called good-naturedly as the trapdoor slid shut. 

“Use the warp zone! It’s faster!” Entrapta added. 

“Have a nice trip down!” said Skeletor. 

*

Hordak settled back in his chair (it had soft armrests, and a cushion for lumbar support) and watched his partner at work. Entrapta flitted from screen to screen, taking notes and making adjustments. On one display, Bow and Glimmer had met up with Netossa and Spinnerella while navigating a cage minefield. On another, Frosta was making an ice bridge to help Perfuma and Scorpia cross a slow-moving spike trap. 

“I’m sorry you had to use your backup plan. They really are utter fools if they ever doubted your genius,” Hordak mused. 

“Different people have different strengths and weaknesses,” Entrapta replied, without looking up from her work. “And a good scientist collaborates whenever they can! Even if that requires a little creativity sometimes.” 

Hordak nodded. “Fair enough. Nevertheless, I would not blame you if you wished to have nothing more to do with the Princess Alliance. Even their attempts to help you can seem… insensitive. You’re not obligated to forgive that.” 

Skeletor looked up from his control panel and shook a fist. “Don’t you get awfully tired of being a hero all the time? Don’t you ever feel like doing something evil?” 

“They’re trying to be good friends,” Entrapta defended. “And so am I. And if I really did need their help, maybe things would be different. But I’ve got it all under control!” 

She vaulted across the room, flipping switches and turning dials along the way. On the monitors, Perfuma’s fall from a tall platform was gently broken by a sudden anti-gravitational field. 

“Besides, forgiveness isn’t always about the person being forgiven. It’s also about taking back potential energy that was lost.” 

“Did you learn that in my brother’s therapy group?” Hordak asked. 

Entrapta smirked. “Actually, he got it from me.” 

A pleasant ding sounded and Entrapta clapped her hair. “Hooray, everyone made it back! I’ll calculate the high scores and then we can continue the social experiment!” 

“You astonish me every day,” Hordak purred as he rose to follow her. Entrapta put out her hand, and he took it. 

“Wait for me!” Skeletor cried out. “You might get lost by yourself!” 

*

One week later, a much smaller gathering of royals met in Dryl. 

Catra and Adora sat together in one of the Crypto Castle’s least intimidating dining rooms, listening with barely-contained delight as Entrapta’s parental units thoroughly embarrassed their former boss. 

“...And so I said to him, ‘I have charging ports Hordak, can you download raw data offa me?’ Ha! Oh, you shoulda seen his face!” 

Hordak slouched in his chair. “I do not think we need to bore our guests with the details of this particular story,” he protested, feebly. 

“Oh, I’m not bored at all! I want to hear everything,” Catra said. She leaned forward, grinning. “So, was this before or after you hooked him up to the lie detector?” 

Entrapta giggled, and gave Hordak a gentle pat on the shoulder as she reached for another helping of his tiny quiche. All things considered, the night was going surprisingly well. 

It was exactly what Entrapta wanted. 

After dinner, wheeled bots carted away the leftovers and dirty dishes. Hordak poured coffee for himself and Adora, and the parental units retired to wherever it was they lived in the cavernous castle. Entrapta, lost in thought as usual, felt a familiar feline presence approach her. 

“Thank you,” Catra said, sincerely. “Not just for this. For everything. For being so nice all the time. For making this mission happen. It means a lot to me.” 

Entrapta smiled softly. “To me, too. Everyone makes mistakes. It would be a shame not to learn from them when we can.” 

“Did you say something?” Skeletor squawked, suddenly materializing in the doorway. 

Entrapta, unbothered, immediately produced a datapad. “Oh we’re just talking about the big rescue mission! Actually, you should probably take a look at my data, Skeletor. I haven’t told you much yet, and we might need you!” She held the blinking screen out happily. 

Skeletor looked at the datapad. At first he seemed confused; then he boggled as he registered the information in front of him. “Eternia?” he gasped in disbelief. “Grayskull?” 

His voice rose to a fevered pitch. “He-Man!”

For once, Skeletor had no words. He shrieked incomprehensibly instead, fists shaking. 

Hordak chuckled. “It’ll be just like the old days!” 

Skeletor screamed. 

[profoundtyrantharmony]

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#ivar x reader - 94 posts

#bucky barnes x reader - 88 posts

#fluff - 82 posts

#loki x reader - 72 posts

#bucky barnes - 70 posts

#bucky x reader - 66 posts

#ivar the boneless - 59 posts

#vikings - 58 posts

#loki - 56 posts

#ivar lothbrok - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 59 characters

#multi-chapter is a preference but i won't say no to oneshot

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Title : A Touch of Affection

Pairing : Modern!Ivar x Reader

Words : 4001

Warning : Fluff, Smut and slight Angst

Note : Roommate to Bestfriend to Lover. I made it soft!Ivar cause it’s my favorite. Probably some medical innacurencies.

Chapter Plot : Ivar talk about his difficulties in the sexual department and Reader offers to help him.

Tags : @youbloodymadgenius // @draculasbride-blog // @ivarhoegh // @black-repunzel99​ // @theanxietyqueen17​​ // @litleepigisaa

Masterlist // Request  // PromptList // Serie Masterlist

Chapter 10 : A Discovery of Feelings

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71 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

Title : What a Game

Pairing : Loki x Reader x Thor

Words : 3354

Warning : Fluff and a bit smutty at the end.

Note : Everybody is alive, Endgame happened without permanent casualties

Plot : A game of fu*k marry or kill with alcohol leads the Avengers (original 6 + Loki, Bucky, Sam, Wanda and Vision) and reader to admit dome hidden feelings deep inside of them.

Tags : @im-a-satanic-ritual

Masterlist // Prompt list request

We’ve been on a mission for several weeks now. Since the events with Thanos we could have thought that the human nature would have been less evil...we were wrong. There will always be an other monster wanting to do bad things to innocent in the sole purpose of being richer, more powerfull or just because they can. That’s why we, the Avengers work so hard to preserve the lives of millions of innocents.

This is not easy everyday but fortunately we can count on each other, Steve Sam and Bucky united by their military past, Natasha and Clint bonded years ago when he decided to not kill her, Tony and Bruce over science, Wanda and Vision... it’s a bit fuzzy for now but we can say they’re linked by their appreciation of one another -If I had my say in this, I’d just tell them to get together already- and finally there is me Thor and Loki. At the beginning the two brother were always together -since the redeeming of Loki they got a lot of time to catch-. 

At first I befriended Loki over my interest of literature and calm nature. I was coming back from a trip to the library with my arms full of new books when Loki walked by me and helped me to settle them in my room. He looked over my collection and asked me if he could borrow some -which I obviously accepted-. Since that day we could be found in his room or in mine, sometime in the living room reading our own book, sometime reading to each other. After that we started to talk together about everyday life, the further we talk and more personnal our conversation had become. We were now friend and proud to be.

Then some weeks later I befriended Thor over some pop tarts -Yes I love pop tarts too especially those with weird flavors like root beer, pumpkin pie or even maple bacon- this day, I’ll remember it till the day I die. I just finished training with Nat and Clint when my stomach told me it was time to give him some sustenance or else... I went to the kitchen, grabbed my personnal stash of snacks -full of weird flavors snacks that no one in the tower wanted to taste- when suddenly I felt a warm presence behind me, it was too late fo me to hide what rightfully belonged to me. I turned around and without surprise saw Thor with eyes full of mirth and ecstasy at the sight of all the different treats. He asked me what was all of this, I let him try some, he liked it and that’s basicaly how the three of us became really good friends. Our bond is like nothing I ever experience before, it’s more like a fraternal kind of bond, without being blood related.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎●●●▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

The quinjet landed on the Avengers compound, the roars of the engines wake me from my slumber. I’m tired, sweaty and in dire need of a hot shower. I thought we would have to go to the med bay see if everything and everyone were alright then go to our quarter and be free fromany Avengers duties. Clearly, as I hear Tony speaks through my foggy head, I understand that this is not what’s going to happen.

“Guys we need to celebrate our victory !!” Tony happily says.

“Come on Tony, give us a break !” Steve says a bit defeated knowing well Tony won't listen to anyones plea.

“Don’t you think it will be better to celebrate tomorrow, when everyone feel rested ?” replies Bruce trying to coaxe him into reason.

“Bruce is right, we need to rest this mission was physically and mentaly draining !” Adds Bucky with tiredness clouding his eyes.

“Listen up everybody, we’re all going to the med bay, we’re all going to rest for a bit...But tonight at 8:00pm we’re going to spend some time together as a team bonding, to be together as friends more than work colleagues. Is that understood !” Tony explains with seriousness in his tone not wanting to be contradicted.  

“Seriously Tony ! I’m tired, sweaty, I look like an old dry cod sticking on the side of the road !!” I start to yell a bit frustrated with him.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself sweet flower.” Says Loki smiling at me.

“An old dry cod ?! You’re not that old !!” Says Thor laughing at his own joke.

“I hate you both ! I tell both of the gods. And I hate you too Tony, making me stay up when I only want to sleep, that’s mean !” I couldn’t contain the slight smile that wanted to break free from my psudo angry face.

“Yeah yeah I love you too y/n/n ! See you all tonight, there will be acohol an there will be games !” Exclaims Tony with a renewed genuine smile.

“Games ?” Ask Clint and Natasha at the same time.

“A game actually, not plural.”

“May I ask mister Stark what this game, singuar, will be ?” 

“You’ll see for yourself tonight Vision !”

“You know I can read your mind Tony ? You can’t hide anything from me.” Says Wanda with a sly smile that make her even more gorgeous than she already is.

“You wouldn’t dare violate the one that offers you a chance to be a better version of yourself in such a rude way would you !?” Tony is almost laughing, it’s all for fun, we ove each other so much that we can laugh and joke about almost everything.

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99 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

#3

Loki Oneshots I Recommend ~M~ to ~Z~

~M~

Airport (from @meganlpie)

Shiver (from @muertawrites )

Late night cravings (from @maiden-of-asgard)

Have fun (from @multific)

Spellbound (from @mygfloki)

~O~

Curiosity kissed the cat (from @odinsonsobsessed)

Winning (from @ohhhmyloki)

~R~

Craving her (from @revengingbarnes)

~S~

One more habit (from @shotsbyshae)

A cage of golden glass (from @sserpente)

Mint (from @surrounded-by-superheroes )

Asking Loki dirty questions (from @starscreamloki )

Squishes and Kisses (from @sugars-fluffy-escapes)

Reliable liars (from @scandalous-chaos)

~T~

Li’l Lou (from @thegoddamnfangirl)

I could just drink you up ( from @thosekidswhohuntmonsters)

~U~

Braid (from @uncomfortable-writers)

~W~

You snake (from @wickednerdery)

The curious incident of the doppelganger (from @wolfpawn on AO3)

Last Updated : 09/11/22

135 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

#2

Serie Masterlist

Title : A Touch of Affection

Pairing : Modern!Ivar x Reader

Warning : Fluff, Smut, Angst

Notes : Roommate to Bestfriend to Lover. I made it Soft!Ivar because this is my favorite. Slow burn for the first few chapters. 🔥=smut / 💗=fluff / 💧=angst

General Plot : Y/n a young journalist decide to quit to pursue her ambitions of travel vlogger/blogger. Ivar works for the familly business and wants to leave the familly house. They’ll have to share an appartment and maybe more than friendship will arise.

Tags : @youbloodymadgenius // @draculasbride-blog // @ivarhoegh

Masterlist // Request

Chapter 1 : First Meet 💗

Bonus #01 : What Does the Loft Looks Like ?

Chapter 2 : Moving In 💗

Chapter 3 : Home Alone 🔥💗

Bonus #02 : A week in Oslo

Chapter 4 : What the Future Holds 💗++

Chapter 5 : A Familly Reunion 💗

Chapter 6 : Half a Truth to Set You Free 💗+

Chapter 7 : It’s My Gift to You 💗+

Bonus #03 : Ancient and Glorious is Quebec💗

Chapter 8 : Under the Sunlight slight🔥

Bonus #04 : What about some Burgers ?

Chapter 9 : In the Land of the Rising Sun 💗💧

Bonus #05 : How to Spend Halloween in Japan 💗

Chapter 10 : A Discovery of Feelings 💧💗🔥

Bonus #06 : Strangest Love Hotel... 🔥💗

Chapter 11 : Stuck on an Island 🔥💗

Chapter 12 : I Can’t Believe You ! 💧

Chapter 13 : Perditious, Jealous Vipers 💧⚡

Chapter 14 : Sweet Revenge (Part 1) Semi🔥

Chapter 15 : Sweet Revenge (Part 2) 🔥💗

Chapter 16 : Someone Has to be Held Accountable semi🔥

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172 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

 Title : Defending Honor

Pairing : Poly!Avengers x Reader

Words : 8130

Warning : Smut (check the kinks) and Fluff

Notes : As usual Endgame happened without forever departure. None on the movie couples exist in this fic. F/B means famous backery.

Plot : Request from @im-a-satanic-ritual :  Can I ask for No. 19 that leads to 26 on your prompt list? And can I ask for No. 9, 13, 14, 22 and 30 or 29 on your kink list? For female!reader x all Avengers? I love your writing so much and anything will be amazing but I love good background to go with smut so if you could make this as long as you can? Thank you, I hope you have an awesome day!

Tag : @im-a-satanic-ritual

Masterlist // Request // Promptlist

Prompt scenario list : 

n°19 : Reader defends character(s) from mental/verbal abuse 

n°26 : Being worshipped by character(s)

Prompt kink list :

n°9 : Praise kink

n°13 : Group sex

n°14 : Dry humping

n°22 : Outdoor sex

n°29 : Cock warming

n°30 : Double Penetration 

Working for Pepper Potts as her personal assistant as its perks. I have the pleasure of working with one of the most impressive and hardworking woman from this century, as well as meeting the Avengers on an almost daily basis -as an assistant I’m sometimes, let’s say often, needed to help them with paperwork and planning meeting and stuff- it’s a hard work but I won’t change it for anything. Each morning I wake up from my bed happy to go to work, even on harder day -when there is a mission meeting for instance- I’m glad to be of any help.

That’s because of those friendship that I’m here right now, early in the morning, outside my room -as Pepper’s assistant I got to have a staff member’s appartment in an other wing of the compound- wearing a deep blue sport bra and dark short just to run and do some training with none other than the one and only Bucky Barnes ! Don’t get me wrong I love that guy and all, he’s sweet and funny a bit on the grumbly side sometimes but it’s part of his charm. The problem is that we don’t have the same stamina or even the same training routine. 

Working alongside the Avengers allows me to be on first name basis with all of them. I developped some sort of friendship with them over the course of the year I’ve been employed. First it was Thor with his overly warming attitude quickly followed by Wanda with whom I might share a hobby for cooking. Then I befriended Tony and Bruce as I was the one bringing them food and drinks because they both forget it when they’re to engrossed in their work. The next ones to fall for my friendlyness are Steve Bucky and Sam during my training -even if I’m not an Avengers I do a bit of workout to stay in shape-, the two spies Nat and Clint are close behind, my supposedly dorky and blunt attitude got me in their good grace. Finally I got to call Loki my friend, I didn’t think it would happen though, but we both love sitting in silence while reading a good literature book so it made our friendship obvious.

“Man why are you asking me to train with you ? Why not Steve or even Sam ?!” I ask him already tired in advance.

“Steve went on a mission early this morning and I don’t want to work out with birdbrain.” Answers Bucky calmly.

“I swear to god the both of you are like a married couple that can’t stand the sight of the other !” I laugh.

“Stop laughing at me and focus on the training, today we’re going to run to improve your stamina so get ready !”

Running is not my favorite thing to do I admit but with him it’s always relaxing, he even slow his own pace so I don’t feel like a failure, such a gentleman and a real pedagogue, he instantly understand how my mind works and what to do to get me focus.

We start from the compound and he then lead the way through small streets that few people use, until we arrive to bigger one. He keeps me focus, my mind goes everywhere, what am I gonna eat tonight, is it gonna be a hard day or not... I don’t see the time passe, I don’t get overly tired -which I’m proud of-, my training must have work then !

Almost an hour and a half later, we finish our run and start to walk back to the compound, we’re both sweaty so Bucky decide to take off his sweatshirt to only stay in his tank top, his metal arm visible for everyone. It’s not a problem, nor for me nor for the other Avengers...but for the public’s eyes apparently it still a bit early...or too much I don’t know. He contributes to protect and save their lives but he’s still treated as a villain, a monster devoid of a soul. I will never understand that, I will never tolerate that !

“Have you seen his arm ? And those scars ?! This is hideous !!” A mid-thirties woman whispers to her husband not knowing that she is not that discret.

“Don’t tell me about it, I don't even understand why he’s still walking free after all the wrong he did ! Guess being friend with mister Captain America can get you out of jail.” The man answers his wife with such venom in his words that I can see from the corner of my eyes Bucky bowing his head in shame and disconfort. How dare they !!

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491 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[deja-you]

foreign affairs | part one | paris

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: In 2020, Representative Y/n L/n is up for reelection. Lafayette, Y/n’s former best friend and current French socialite and playboy, decides this is the time to walk back into her life.

word count: 6.8k

trailer | next

2012 was the year he broke his arm and broke her heart.

During her sophomore year of college, Y/n decided she wanted to study abroad in France. She had taken a few years of French in high school and college, not enough to be fluent, but enough to hold a short conversation. Lots of college students studied abroad, and seeing as Y/n was majoring in Political Science and International Affairs, it made sense.

Paying for a year abroad was another story. Since her senior year in high school, Y/n had been saving up the money she earned from waitressing, and with the help from her parents, she was just able to afford the trip to France. 

During the first week in Paris, faculty members took students around the city to see different attractions. Most students went to see the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. Y/n preferred to see France’s president’s residence, the Élysée Palace. It was built back in 1718, and the beige colored stone -- we don’t really care what this building looked like, do we? It’s a building in Paris, of course it had beautiful architecture. We’re all wondering why this is significant, right? 

Okay, so Y/n loved politics and history and foundations of democracy and republicanism. She was standing outside the French White House (it’s not really white, we’ve covered this, it’s more of a beige color, but I think “White House” is a term we all understand). Y/n was probably admiring the architecture that your author is refusing to describe. Now this is where it gets more interesting. 

“Pretty building, isn’t it?” 

A man leaning against one wall was watching Y/n while he lit his cigarette. He had spoken plainly in English; was it that obvious that Y/n was American.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/n replied politely.

“Very. Soon it’s going to be my home.”

This piqued Y/n’s interest. “Are you running for president? I can’t remember anyone that looked like you in the polls.”

If she was being honest, she had never met anyone that looked like him in general. Charming brown eyes, curly hair, neat stubble, and a smile she would’ve remembered. He gave her an amused look and raised his cigarette to his lips. 

“You wouldn’t,” he replied, then offered his hand for her to shake. “You can call me Lafayette.”

Y/n shook his hand, but she was still confused. “And you’re running for president, Lafayette? I have to say, you might need to work on your name recognition.”

“I am not running for president, chérie. Perhaps you’re more familiar with my mother, Jolie de la Rivière?” 

He watched as the realization hit her. 

“Jolie de la Rivière? As in the frontrunner in the presidential election?”

“The very one. I am surprised an American keeps up with French politics.”

It made sense now. Y/n could see the resemblance between this stranger she had just met and the future French president. De la Rivière had been leading in the polls since she announced her campaign, and it was almost certain that she would win the election in April. Y/n just happened to run into de la Rivière’s son?

“You want to get something to eat?” Lafayette asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Y/n was still in shock, but she nodded, wanting to know more about the man she had just met. “Okay.”

They crossed the street to a café (there was a café at nearly every corner in Paris) and took seats outside. Y/n let Lafayette order for both of them even though she knew enough French to order herself, she didn’t want to give him any reason to make fun of her poor French accent. 

“So,” Lafayette said, watching Y/n curiously, “you’re an American in Paris, huh?”

“I suppose so. But less “starving artist” vibes and less musical numbers,” Y/n quipped. Was she really talking to the son of the future French president, and he was asking about her?

“So if you’re not a starving artist, what are you doing in Paris?”

“I’m a student at Georgetown and I’m spending the semester studying abroad,” Y/n informed him.

“What are you majoring in?”

“Political Science and International Affairs.”

“Political Science at Georgetown? You must be smart. Will I see you running for president some day?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She laughed. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I’ll find a job working on a campaign or for a Senator. I don’t have it all worked out yet.”

“Neither do I,” Lafayette said. This made Y/n pause. She could tell he was a few years older than her. He was also Jolie de la Rivière’s son. How could he not have his whole life worked out?

“What’d you mean?” Y/n asked.

He shrugged. “Everyone expects me to follow in my mother’s footsteps. It’s not that I’m not interested in politics and government, I just... I just don’t want to live in her shadow forever.”

“I see,” Y/n said. “At least you’ll have connections no matter what you decide to do.”

“That is very true.”

They continued talking for an hour or so. Lafayette would ask her what it was like living in the United States. Y/n would ask him what it was like having a powerhouse mom. The conversation came easily to both of them, something Y/n had never expected from a stranger. 

When the bill came, Y/n ultimately let Lafayette pay for their lunch after much protesting (Y/n only allowed for him to pay because she was a broke college student). Then Lafayette asked for Y/n’s phone number, which she gladly gave to him. He promised he’d call or text sometime and they went their separate ways.

He said he’d call, but Y/n was expecting within the next few days or weeks. She was not expecting him to call her only a few hours later.

“Y/n, hey!” Came his voice from the other line.

“Lafayette? Hi?”

“I know this is sudden, but there’s this concert at a small venue tonight. I have a few tickets, and I was wondering if you and some of your friends wanted to join me tonight?”

“Um, okay, yeah?”

“Great! I’ll send you the information.”

And then he hung up. True to his word, he sent her a text with the time and address a few minutes later. Y/n invited two of her suite mates, Rebecca and Joe, to come with her. Then a few hours later, they showed up at a small but lively concert venue. Lafayette met them there, wearing a more casual outfit, and they all went in together.

Y/n honestly couldn’t remember who was performing that night. She didn’t remember much, but she knew she had more drinks than she should’ve, that the music was loud, and that the room was incredibly hot. What she couldn’t forget was the headache she woke up with the next morning. At the very least, she had made it into her own bed even though she hadn’t made it out of the clothes she had worn out the night before. 

She grabbed her water bottle from beside the bed and took a long drink. When that didn’t help, she went to find Rebecca or Joe to ask what had happened the night before. Rebecca’s room was closer, so she knocked on the door before opening it.

“Hey, Rebec-- Oh my god!”

She quickly shut her eyes but she wouldn’t be able to unsee partially naked Lafayette struggling to quickly put his clothes back on. Y/n cringed and closed the door quickly behind her. What had she just seen? Why was Lafayette in Rebecca’s room? And why was he naked?

“Y/n, mon dieu, you weren’t supposed to see that!” Lafayette had finished dressing and followed Y/n out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“What exactly was that?” Y/n asked.

He held a finger to his lips and motioned at the door. “Rebecca’s still asleep.”

“So you and... that happened?”

Lafayette rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, I guess so. It was all a blur... but, yeah.”

“We all got pretty drunk last night,” Y/n justified. 

“Er, not exactly. You and Joe had a lot of drinks, but Rebecca and I decided to stay sober enough to get everyone back. So once we got you and Joe home, well, we kind of...” He trailed off and his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Oh. I see.” Y/n didn’t know what to say. “Are you and Rebecca like... a thing now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

Lafayette really didn’t know. Neither did Rebecca. 

In the next two weeks, they hooked up a few more times before deciding they were best off as friends. After that, it was a Parisian girl named Celeste. Y/n quickly got used to Lafayette’s flirtatious nature and him constantly bringing around a new girl. Sometimes it was annoying, sometimes it was a point of humor. It didn’t matter too much to Y/n, she was content being friends with him. 

They grew close quickly, and soon enough Y/n couldn’t remember what her life had been like before him. There was no one Y/n preferred to discuss foreign policy with than Lafayette, and there was no one Lafayette would rather annoy than Y/n. At one point, Lafayette took Y/n to one of his mother’s rallies, and Y/n spent more time than necessary explaining to Lafayette’s mom how big a fan she was. Lafayette nearly had to drag her away so that actual constituents could talk to his mom. 

But most days it was more casual stuff. Sometimes Lafayette would sit on Y/n’s phone and take a ridiculous amount of selfies on her phone while she worked on homework. Other times they would take spontaneous trips to the grocery store at night to pick up ingredients for fried rice. Every Tuesday, Lafayette and Y/n’s roommate, Molly, would listen to Y/n rant about wage gaps between different demographics in America after her Economics class. And sometimes they would make fun of cheesy romcoms together.

“I don’t understand your obsession with Nora Ephron, Y/n,” Lafayette complained, although he was dutifully pouring extra butter onto their popcorn for the movie.

“She only directed the best romantic comedies ever!” Y/n defended. 

“But why is Meg Ryan in all of her movies?”

“Because Meg Ryan is the best!”

“I still don’t understand the appeal of this movie. So a kid calls a radio show and Meg Ryan falls in love with him?” Lafayette asked.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “No, Meg Ryan falls in love with the dad! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But she’s never actually met the dad?”

“...well, no.”

“I don’t understand Americans.”

“You just need to watch it!”

Seeing that he wasn’t making any headway with Y/n, Lafayette sighed and resigned to his position on the couch. Grabbing a blanket, Y/n happily settled down on the couch beside Lafayette and started the movie. Every now and then Lafayette would scoff at some cheesy line or make some comment and Y/n would be quick to shush him. Eventually all the popcorn had been eaten and the end credits began to roll.

“So what did you think?” Y/n asked eagerly.

Lafayette shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t get over the fact that she just left her fiancé like that.”

She rolled her eyes.

Months ago, Y/n never would have imagined she’d be invited to an election watch party for Jolie de la Rivière, but now she wasn’t so surprised. De la Rivière’s campaign had rented out an upscale restaurant that was packed to its max occupancy. Lafayette’s mother spent most of the evening schmoozing her voters and speaking with interviewers, allowing for Y/n and Lafayette to sit by the bar and mess around.

“Okay, okay, be serious this time. Don’t smile.”

“I won’t! I promise I won’t,” Y/n said.

“We’ll see. On the count of three... one... two...”

“Wait! I’m not ready!” Y/n couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, a smile spreading across her face. 

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “I do not know what to do with you.”

“I can be serious.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can! Just watch.” She looked away and focused on making her expression resolute and steely.  Y/n slowly looked up to meet Lafayette’s eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds with straight faces. Then Lafayette had the gall to arch one of his eyebrows and Y/n broke once again. 

“That’s not fair. I was doing perfectly fine before you cheated!” Y/n complained.

“It’s not my fault that you can’t keep a straight face, Y/n.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “I can’t blame you. I’m so devilishly good looking, most women can’t keep it together around me.”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes. “I can assure you that’s not the problem here. Maybe I keep laughing because you’re so funny looking.”

“Haha. You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

When she didn’t respond, Lafayette tried again. “Y/n?”

“Lafayette, look.” She pointed to a TV hung over the bar.

A reporter on the screen was announcing that De la Rivière had won a landslide election. Then the screen cut to another reporter who was at the restaurant interviewing De la Rivière in person. Y/n and Lafayette’s eyes traveled across the room to see his mother talking to the reporter. The same scene playing on the TV overhead. 

“Did that really just happen?”

Lafayette’s mom had been ahead in the polls for months now, and everyone expected her to win the election. But now she really had won. Lafayette was the President-elect’s son. Both Y/n and Lafayette knew this was probably going to happen, but now that it had, neither of them really knew what to do. 

Everything after that was a blur. They celebrated that night, having a few more drinks. Enough alcohol to have a good time, but not enough to get totally drunk in an effort not to embarrass Lafayette’s mom on her big night. After that, Y/n didn’t see Lafayette for a while. He was busy getting prepped by his mom’s staff to be the perfect son and getting assigned a new security detail. 

Y/n didn’t mind all that much. Sure, she missed him, but now that he was gone, she could spend more time actually working on her school work and getting more sleep. How had she gotten anything done when he was around? It was during the month when Lafayette and Y/n didn’t see each other at all that Molly slapped a magazine down on the table where Y/n was eating breakfast.

“What’s this?” Y/n asked, picking up the glossy magazine.

“Apparently Lafayette is France’s most eligible bachelor,” Molly informed her.  

Y/n scoffed and looked over the cover of the magazine. Lafayette was casually leaning against a wall in the photo wearing a fitted suit and a colorful bowtie. He had a casual grin on his face, and his facial hair was trimmed neatly. 

“Has Lafayette always been this hot?” Y/n muttered.

Molly gave her a look. “Yes. Yes, he has.”

“He might be a bachelor, but I don’t know if I would call him eligible.”

“What’s wrong with Lafayette?” Molly took the magazine from Y/n and flipped to the fluff piece written about him. “He’s handsome, and charismatic, and intelligent. I would date him.”

Y/n watched her roommate admire the photos of Lafayette and realized this wasn’t the first time Molly had considered the thought. How many times had Y/n watched Molly laugh at something Lafayette said that wasn’t even funny? 

A buzz came from Y/n’s phone and she welcomed the distraction from her thoughts. Of course the text just had to be from Lafayette. She hadn’t seen him in forever, and he just happened to next her now? Yes, because it’s going to move the plot along. 

Paint the town red w/ me tonight? The text read. Bring some friends and we’ll make it a party.

She shot back a text asking him if he was even allowed to hangout with commoners now that his mom was the president. He sent back a sarcastic haha and assured her he had it all worked out.

Molly was a little too excited when Y/n asked her to come hangout with Lafayette, but what did Y/n care? If Molly liked Lafayette, Y/n didn’t care. Why should she care if her roommate wanted to date her best friend? She did her best to stop thinking about it. Molly let her borrow a dress that was shorter than Y/n was comfortable with and they headed out with a few of their friends to meet at a bar Lafayette had texted them about. 

He was thirty minutes late, and Y/n would’ve been annoyed she hadn’t expected it from him. He fed everyone some charming story about having to ditch his security detail. Y/n wanted to point out to him how irresponsible he was being, but honestly, she was just glad to see him again. When he was done enchanting their friends with his stories of his grandiose lifestyle, everyone returned to their drinks and Lafayette finally had the chance to sidle up to Y/n and sling an Armani-clad arm around her shoulders. 

“Been a while, stranger?” He gave her an impish grin.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Lafayette’s eyebrows shot up and he pouted. “Aw, chérie, you know I couldn’t help it. I’ve been busy, it hasn’t been easy, this last month.”

“Right. ‘Cause living in a literal palace must be so difficult.”

“I forgot how sarcastic you can be.”

She shrugged and gave him a self-satisfied smile. 

“Maybe you’ll be nicer after a few drinks,” he suggested.

“...it wouldn’t hurt.”

His smile was wide and she had forgotten how much she had missed it. Lafayette leaned forward and ordered a round of drinks, and just like that, it was like they hadn’t been apart at all. Their friendship was easy like that. 

After two drinks, Y/n was laughing louder than anyone in the bar. Lafayette urged her to quiet down, but by the way wrinkles formed by his eyes and he laughed along quietly, they both knew he wasn’t serious about it at all. It was after they had started taking shots that they decided they were too hot to stay indoors. The night was young, and Lafayette had already hatched a plan in his mind.

“Let’s go to a park,” he announced to their small group.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement. Y/n, more than a few drinks in, was still hesitant. 

“Everything is probably closed at this time. Don’t you think you should be getting home?” She asked. 

“C’mon, Y/n,” Molly chimed in, “it’ll be fun. There’s no harm to it.”

Y/n wanted to argue that there very well could be harm to it, but Lafayette was too fast.

“Molly’s right. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll get a night of freedom again. Better make the most of it, oui?”  

Lafayette must’ve earned his magnetism from his constant exposure to politicians. He would make a great politician if he ever decided to apply himself, Y/n thought. It wasn’t the first time she had thought this. 

Everyone listened to him almost like they were hypnotized, and before she knew it, they were standing outside a small park. A small closed park. Y/n knew she shouldn’t be committing a crime with the French president’s son, but the group had a mob mentality now. Anyway, Lafayette had his mind set on breaking into the park now. There was nothing anyone could’ve one to change his mind at this point. 

Y/n still felt she had to try. “It’s closed. Everyone should just go home.”

“Nonsense,” Lafayette said. 

“What’s your plan? Hop the fence?”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “It’s not that high.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Y/n responded. 

But seeing the look on Lafayette’s face, she could tell he didn’t share her opinion on fence hopping. She watched him give a curious look to Molly. A look she recognized. There was always a twinkle in his eye when he was about to do something stupid to impress a girl. Y/n sighed, threw her hands up in defeat, and let him make his idiotic decisions.

And idiotic they were. Enough alcohol will give you the mindless bravery needed to attempt to jump a fence to impress a girl. That’s how Lafayette broke his arm. 

Dealing with drunk, twenty-something-year-old French boys seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with the morons that, by some miracle, had been elected to the United States Congress. Y/n didn’t consider herself to be one of those moronic representatives, but she was sure some members of the Republican party had some choice words they used to describe her. 

“We have a system that is fundamentally broken,” Y/n spoke into the microphone in front of her. Today she was asking questions at a hearing concerning campaign finance laws. Tomorrow it would be working on passing a bipartisan bill or going to some fundraiser for her reelection campaign. 

“So would you say that Congress is held to the same rate of accountability as the president, the executive branch? Are there more regulations for Senators and Congressman, in regards to campaign financing than the president? Or less, Mr. Conway?” She asked. 

The man in question, Mr. Conway, shifted uncomfortably in his seat before responding to the question, “there are almost no laws at all that apply to the president.”

Y/n was satisfied with his answer, but still she pressed on. “Are you saying that I, and every member of congress, are being held to a higher standard than the president of the United States?”

“...yes.”

“Thank you.”

The hearing wrapped up with all the formalities, and Y/n gathered up all her notes. She made her way from the committee hearing room to her office, knowing that her campaign manager and second-in-command, Nathan Hale, would be ready to tell her what else she had on the schedule for today. She found him sitting on the visitor’s side of her desk, his feet propped up on a chair.

“You did great in there,” he said casually.

She raised an eyebrow as she dropped all her notes from the hearing on her desk and sunk down into the seat. “You stayed and listened?”

“For most of it. I had to leave early,” he admitted. “There were some... issues I had to look at.”

“Issues?”

“Secretary Jefferson tweeted about you. You’re going to want to see it.”

Y/n groaned outwardly. “No, Nathan, I don’t think I will.”

“You’re probably right, but you should be informed nonetheless.” He handed her her phone, already opened to Jefferson’s tweet. It was nothing she hadn’t seen or heard before. Just another politician attacking her character and claiming she was a talentless kid who didn’t belong in politics.

She furrowed her brows as she quickly typed out a response to his tweet. That’s interesting, coming from a man whose entire career was built off his daddy’s money. 

“What do you think?” She handed the phone to Nathan to read over her tweet. “Too harsh? Not harsh enough?”

He laughed. “It’s perfect. Anddddd... send tweet. Did we just enter into a twitter war with the former Secretary of State and the Republican presidential nominee? This feels like middle school drama, not running a country.”

Y/n only shrugged. “All I have to say,” Y/n muttered as she attempted to organize the clutter on her desk, “is that politics is nothing like The West Wing.”

“No?”

“No. Nathan, what do we have scheduled today?” She asked.

“An interview with The Times later, but I’ve lined up some meetings with a few of your largest donors.”

“That’s my least favorite part of the job. Who am I meeting with?” Y/n set aside her organizing and leaned forward on her elbows.

Nathan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and read off a few names from his clipboard. “We’ve got Mercy Otis Warren at two. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph for lunch—”

“Oh, I can’t stand them.”

“—and a Mr. de Lafayette in an hour.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline and she was convinced she had heard him wrong. “Who was that last one?”

“Mr. de Lafayette, the French president’s son,” Nathan explained.

“Since when has he been a donor to my campaign?” Y/n frowned.

“He reached out a few months ago. I thought it was strange that a foreign leader’s kid wanted to donate to a U.S. representative’s campaign, but I wasn’t about to stop him.”

“I don’t want his donations,” Y/n said.

This caught Nathan’s attention. “Y/n, he made a very sizable donation to your reelection campaign.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want his money.”

“It’s too late. We’ve already spent the money on buttons and whatnot.”

“Nathan, no!” Y/n groaned. “And you said I’m supposed to meet with him today?”

“Yes, in an hour. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Y/n pursed her lips and finally admitted, “We used to be best friends.”

“And you don’t want to see him because...?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well regardless of the length of the story,” Nathan said, “we can’t cancel on him. We need every donation we can get since you refuse to accept money from any PACs.”

“That’s because it’s the right thing to do,” Y/n pointed out. 

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make my job any easier. You’re not getting out of this meeting, Y/n. You should start mentally preparing yourself now.” 

It had been eight years since she had last seen Lafayette. Eight years. And yet, she wasn’t exactly in a rush to see him again. They hadn’t exactly left things on great terms. Now he was making sizable donations to her campaign? None of this made any sense to Y/n. 

An hour passed too quickly for Y/n’s liking. Nathan had arranged for a photo op between Y/n and Lafayette in the lobby of the hotel Lafayette was staying at. After all, the endorsement of a foreign dignitary would be good for her campaign, it would probably make the front page of local newspapers. On the ride over to the hotel, Y/n rehearsed how the meeting would go in her head.

She’d walk into the lobby and greet Lafayette politely. The photographers would capture a few pictures of them smiling amicably and shaking hands. Y/n would thank him for his support and his donations, inquire on the wellbeing of his mother, and then Nathan would pull her out and tell everyone she had another meeting she had to be at. Y/n would apologize, thank Lafayette again, and then they would part ways. And if she never saw him again after this, that would be fine. 

Maybe she should have let Nathan in on her plans, because he had different ideas of how this meeting would go down. 

“The Randolphs had to cancel on us, but I’ve pencilled them in for next weekend. That means we can take more time talking with Mr. de Lafayette,” he told her. 

“What? But I don’t want to spend more time talking with him. I just--”

“We can discuss it later,” Nathan cut her off and pushed her into the hotel lobby where half a dozen photographers and journalists were already waiting. The cameras began to flash.

“We have a lot to discuss later,” Y/n smiled for the cameras, but Nathan was the only one able to hear the poison underneath her words. She meant them. But chewing Nathan out was for later, right now she had an ex-best friend and current campaign donator to deal with. 

Standing to the side of the lobby was Lafayette. He was wearing gray slacks and formal shoes, but he had opted to ditch the suit jacket and wore his white button down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his rather muscular fore arms. He grinned when he saw Y/n headed his way, and all of a sudden it was like she was a college student again. Memories of her year in Paris came back to her. Drinks at a local bar, watching romcoms together, attending rallies for his mom.

But bad memories returned to her as well, and they seemed to out weigh all the good ones she could remember. She had to focus not to let her smile falter in case a photographer took a photo of her looking anything less than happy to be seeing Lafayette. Journalists always had a way of spinning things. 

“Congresswoman L/n, I am so glad you could make it,” Lafayette said. There may have been some things Y/n had forgotten from her year abroad, but the sound of his voice wasn’t one of those things. 

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/n lied through her smile. “How was your flight?” She stepped forward and offered her hand for him to shake. Cameras flashed. 

“Pleasant enough, I suppose.” He gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. More cameras clicked. “It’s good to see you again. What has it been, eight years?”

They turned to face the cameras, letting the photographers take pictures of the smiling side-by-side. 

“Must be. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” She was doing her best to be professional. 

He placed a hand on her back that could easily pass as just a friendly gesture between two professionals, but Y/n knew him better than that. Lafayette kept smiling, but he lowered his voice so only she could hear him. 

“I’ve tried getting in contact with you so many times, Y/n. We used to be best friends, remember? Although now you seem to be doing fine for yourself.”

Y/n continued smiling, but she spared Lafayette an uneasy glance. “I am doing fine, aren’t I?”

“I just don’t understand why the only way I can get you to talk to me is to make large donations to your campaign and schedule meetings with your campaign manager,” he said quietly. “What happened to us?”

“Lafayette, this isn’t the time or place to address that issue,” she said with perfectly masked annoyance. Y/n smiled for a couple more photos, then the journalists seemed to have gotten enough content of the two of them. “Besides, I think we both know perfectly well what happened.” 

The end of Y/n’s year abroad came quicker than she had anticipated. Paris had been fun, but if she was being honest, she was ready to return home. Molly and Lafayette had begun dating shortly after that night when he jumped the fence and broke his arm to impress her. After that, Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a third-wheel around the two of them. 

It wasn’t easy. Lafayette was still her best friend and she couldn’t avoid him as much as she wanted to without him asking questions. Since Lafayette decided to date Molly, and since Molly was Y/n’s roommate, seeing them around together was nearly unavoidable. 

Y/n had reached the end of her year abroad now, so... that was good? Molly had already left for the states a week and a half ago due to a family emergency or something. Y/n wasn’t completely sure, she had gotten good at tuning Molly out when she was talking about how great a boyfriend Lafayette was, that she must’ve started tuning out everything Molly said. 

With Molly gone, Y/n was left alone in an apartment and with her thoughts. She didn’t see Lafayette as much, as he really only came over to the apartment to visit Molly these days. Now that she was left with nothing to do except pack and think, she was finally hit with the unsettling reality that the real reason she didn’t like being around Molly and Lafayette when they were together wasn’t because they made her feel like a third wheel. 

She shoved those thoughts deep down her throat, worried what might become of her if she let herself dwell on them too much. When ignoring the thoughts didn’t work as well as she had hoped it would, she turned to an alternative medicine. The bar was an antidote for anything and everything. 

That’s where Lafayette found Y/n. Drinking by herself on a weeknight.

“What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be the drunk one that you find and drag home.”

She looked at him lazily over her third glass of wine. “One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters. But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.”

“We’re quoting poetry, now?” He sighed. “You are more drunk than I thought.”

“I thought you would like it. Charles Baudelaire. He’s French. He said to get drunk, and wine tastes better than virtue.”

Lafayette took her glass of wine and drained it. Partially to prevent Y/n from drinking anymore, partially because he needed it. He looked at his best friend who was watching him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“What?” He asked.

“What,” she repeated, in a daze.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. You’re the one getting drunk alone.”

She grinned sloppily. “I’m not alone. You’re here. And you’re getting drunk with me.”

Lafayette appraised Y/n for a moment. She was watching him so earnestly, her eyes bright and lively from the alcohol. He had to look away. Eventually he gave in and ordered another glass of wine for himself. Then, halfway through that glass, his lips loosened.

“Molly broke up with me.”

For a second, Lafayette could have sworn he saw a smile on Y/n’s face. But he must have imagined it, because when he looked again, she was giving him a pitiful look.

“She did? I’m so, so sorry. Did she say why?”

“No, but I think I know.”

“Care to share?”

He shook his head and took a long sip from his glass. “Not particularly. You care to share why you’re getting drunk alone in the middle of the week?”

“Not particularly.” She repeated his words and attempted a wink.

Then the two of them fell into a contemplative silence. There was no doubt that they were extremely close friends. But that didn’t mean they told each other everything, it just meant that they always knew how the other was feeling, even if they didn’t know why.

“We’ve got so much wasted potential, don’t we?” Lafayette finally said.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Wasted? I may be wasted tonight, but I’ll pull it together tomorrow.”

He groaned and hid his smile, not wanting her to know that he actually found her amusing. “Shut up, Y/n. You know what I mean.”

“Maybe you’re wasted potential. You could be a president or a CEO, but instead you’re drinking with your best friend at 10:48 p.m.,” she pointed out. “But I’ve got it all figured out. Tomorrow, I’ll pull myself together from this feeling-sorry-for-myself night. And when I go back to America, I’ll pull my life together again.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Tonight is a microcosm of my time here in Paris. Paris was just a drunk mistake. A really fun, really delicious mistake. When I return to the U.S., it’ll be my Paris hang over. I’ll deal with the consequences, be miserable for a little while, but then I’ll be great. Maybe be president or meet a penguin, whichever is easier.”

“I hope Paris wasn’t all mistakes.”

“It was.”

It should have hurt more to hear her say that. They were both a few glasses in at this point and felt invincible. Everything would hurt a lot more in the morning, but they felt so good then. Lafayette spared another glance at Y/n. This was his best friend, the only girl he really cared about. The girl he had promised himself he wouldn’t ruin things with. But one look at her lips made him lose any inhibition he had left.

He stared a second too long. Y/n noticed his eyes on her lips, and as if she knew what he was thinking, her lips were pulled up into a troublesome smile. A voice in the back of Y/n’s head warned her that she could ruin their friendship if she didn’t stop, but then again, she had never wanted to be his friend. Never.

“Come home with me?” She knew what his answer would be before she had even asked the question.

His response should’ve been “I don’t think that’s a good idea” or “we’re both drunk, we should both go to our own homes.” Or anything else. Anything else would’ve been better than his easy grin, his warm hand in hers as they exited the bar, and his sharp whistle as he hailed a taxi.

She could count this, right?

Lafayette had never told her he loved her. As a friend, at the very least, Y/n was convinced that he loved her. She had watched Lafayette express his affections and love for so many women before her. Y/n would be lying if she said that she didn’t die a little bit every time she saw him with someone else. She had watched him say “I love you” to almost everyone but herself.

In the back of the cab, flooded with orange light from the street, Lafayette’s hands felt warm on her body. He tasted like cheap wine even though Y/n knew he could afford something more expensive. He tasted like smoke as well, even though Y/n told him often how bad cigarettes were. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, it said “I love you.” Didn’t it? 

 I can count this, she decided with his lips pressed against her neck.

He only took his lips off her to quickly pay the cab driver, and even then he kept one hand on her thigh. Walking up a narrow flight of stairs is harder when you’re drunk and don’t want to let go of another person, but Lafayette and Y/n managed to do it. They stumbled into her apartment, not bothering to turn on any lights. 

The next morning Y/n’s apartment would look like a crime scene; furniture out of place, clothes littering the floor, but she didn’t care at the moment. Any consequences for tonight’s actions would be her problem tomorrow. Tonight, all she could think about was the way he pushed her up against the wall and left bruises on her shoulders with his mouth. 

By the time they made it to her bedroom, she had managed to remove all his clothes and he was taking off her panties with two fingers. Lafayette whispered something sweet in her ear, but Y/n really wasn’t listening at this point. He wrapped an arm around her waist and laid her back on the bed, placing a desperate kiss on her lips. Something in her knew that he wasn’t kissing her because he felt something, but because he wanted to feel something. Did it work?

Y/n would not know all the details of what happened the next day. All she would remember was the feel of his skin against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, and feeling more alive than she had ever felt before.

Drunken mistakes were something Lafayette was used to. Y/n had her fair share of drunken mistakes as well. Nothing compared to the moment Lafayette woke up next to Y/n in her bed with a terrible headache from the night before. He could feel nothing but dread and it was beginning to eat him alive.

“Mon dieu, what have I done?” The fact that he had really fucked up this time hit him like a train. 

“I know,” Y/n replied. She didn’t share his same level of concern. “How much did we drink last night?”

“I need to go.” 

Before she knew it, Lafayette was out of bed and pulling on articles of his clothing that were strewn across the room. Y/n was perplexed by his urgency and propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Lafayette, relax. We were drunk, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand.”

“This shouldn’t have happened. I never wanted this to happen.”

Y/n didn’t even mask her pain, but Lafayette wouldn’t even look at her. Still, she tried to reassure him. “You hook-up with girls all the time. This isn’t that much different.”

“No, it is,” he said firmly. “You’re not just another girl, Y/n. We’re friends. I never wanted this to happen between us.”

Just like that, Y/n felt her heart plummet in her chest. Did he really regret sleeping with her that much? He couldn’t even fathom the idea of them together without panicking? Y/n’s mouth hung open but no words came out. What would you even say in a situation like this?

“I need to leave now.” He still couldn’t look her in the eye. Lafayette left her apartment without so much as another word to her.

That’s how Lafayette broke her heart.

Tag list: @fanfic-addict-98 @wordvomit-foryourmind @farihafangirls @actuallyanita @cubedtriangle @katierpblogg @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[jinxedpanda4life]

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone. 

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list. 

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment. 

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not. 

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for! 

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult. 

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology. 

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them). 

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned. 

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18. 

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne 

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language. 

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate) 

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.” 

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector 

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

          “You shouldn’t do that you know.”

           “Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson                    keeps the liquor.”

           “Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

           “Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to                stop.”

           “She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop,              but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more                        agitated.”

          “You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat.             Seems to me that you like her.”

           “Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

           “No, you like like her.”

           “That presumption is juvenile.”

           “But you don’t deny it.”

           “Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety. 

    “Damian what is going on?”

    “Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

    “Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

    “God has no dealings in this matter.”

    “You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

    “I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

    “So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

    “You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

     “We?”

     “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

    “Thought of everything huh?”

     “I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

    “Hello?”

     “You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

     “I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

     “We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

     “I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

    “...”

    “Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work. 

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation. 

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

   “Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

   “Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

    “Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

    “Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

     “Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

     “Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

      “Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

       “Yup that is totally fine with me.”

       “Great.”

       “Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

       “See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

        “You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.