#and it baffles and confuses me and blows my mind

[kiwriteswords]

Delayed Gratification [Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader]**

Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 7k|| AN: I've been watching Dharma and Greg and the episode where Dharma suggests to Greg they try to be celibate inspired me. Tags/Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! NSFW!! 18+, female reader, established relationship, bau!reader, pwp, p in v smut, no protection, male masturbation, talks of mutual masturbation, oral sex, no talk about protecting (just assume they’ve got this established!), celibacy, teasing, hotch and reader poke each other's buttons, wet dreams, teasing bau team Summary: You and Hotch try a month without sex to see how long the other can last.

The faint aroma of garlic and basil lingered in the kitchen as you finished wiping down the counters, the quiet hum of the dishwasher providing a gentle backdrop.

Aaron was standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, methodically rinsing the last of the wine glasses. Your eyes traced the curve of his back, the broad set of his shoulders straining slightly against his shirt as he moved.

"Do you ever actually relax?" you teased lightly, stepping closer and leaning against the counter beside him. "We have a dishwasher for a reason, you know."

He shot you a soft glance over his shoulder, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. "Old habits," he murmured, the rich timbre of his voice vibrating through your chest.

"Mmm," you hummed softly, fingertips reaching out to brush gently along his forearm, tracing the veins beneath his warm skin. "Some habits are worth keeping."

Aaron paused, his movements slowing as your fingers lingered. You felt him tense, his muscles tightening beneath your touch. 

He cleared his throat softly, his voice just a shade rougher as he asked, "Are we still talking about the dishes?"

You laughed quietly, the sound easy and comfortable, yet tinged with a subtle, electric tension. "What else would we be talking about?"

He set the glass down slowly, turning fully toward you. The space between you was barely there, a mere breath apart, and his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. His voice dropped lower, quieter, and you felt it brush over your skin. 

"You're playing a dangerous game."

"I like a little danger," you whispered playfully, tilting your head up to better hold his gaze. "Keeps things interesting."

Aaron chuckled softly, leaning in until you could feel his breath warming your cheek. Just when you thought he'd close the distance, he paused, lips grazing your ear as he murmured, "Did you have something specific in mind?"

Heat curled low in your belly, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady. "Actually, yes."

"Mmm?" He pulled back just enoughto meet your eyes again; curiosity etched clearly on his face.

"So, you know my friend Taylor, right?” Aaron nodded,”Well, she told me about something she and her husband tried." You hesitated, savoring the confusion now mingling with intrigue in his expression.

"Go on," he encouraged, gently tracing his fingertips along your jaw.

You swallowed, momentarily distracted by the intensity of his gaze, before continuing. "They decided to be celibate for a month."

He stared at you blankly--

Almost looking like his brain was…was malfunctioning. 

Those were not the words he was expecting to come out of your mouth. 

The slightest crease appearing between his brows. "Celibate?"

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your hand flattening against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "They swore off sex completely, and apparently--"

"Why?" His voice was genuinely baffled, eyebrows lifting slightly as if the concept was utterly foreign.

You grinned at the mild alarm in his eyes. "They said it made everything better. Heightened anticipation, deeper connection, mind-blowing--"

"Our sex life is already fantastic," Aaron interrupted, sounding mildly defensive, his thumb brushing gently across your lower lip.

He was right. It was fantastic. Best sex of your life. Ten-out-of-ten sex--

It could go on a world record list of best. Sex. Ever.

But when your friend Taylor went on and on about how things went on and on…and on between her and her husband, Joey…you were..intrigued.  

"It is," you conceded, leaning subtly into his touch. "But imagine how incredible it could be after a month of waiting."

Aaron let out a slow breath--

Visibly skeptical. 

Yet his eyes darkened slightly at the thought. "You seriously want to do this?"

"It could be fun," you said, voice softening, tone suggestive. "Unless you don’t think you could last…"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly recognizing the challenge in your voice. "You really think I lack self-control?"

"Prove me wrong," you whispered, boldly stepping back from him, the sudden distance leaving him reaching subtly toward you. "Unless you're afraid you'll miss me too much."

A slow, competitive smile spread across his lips, even as his eyes simmered with restrained heat. "Fine. One month."

"One month," you echoed, feeling a delicious shiver race through you at the sheer audacity of your plan.

Aaron moved closer, stopping just short of touching you, his gaze locked firmly onto yours. His voice dropped to a teasing growl, filling the charged silence. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

You smiled knowingly, heart pounding in your chest. "Neither do you."

The first few days of the challenge passed by in a confusing blur of routine and restraint. 

Nights that normally ended tangled together beneath the sheets became filled with quiet--

Slightly strained goodnights…with both of you carefully maintaining space between your bodies. 

The comfortable ease of falling asleep curled into Aaron’s warmth was replaced by cool sheets and a palpable yearning lingering between you.

In the mornings, the casual intimacy of getting ready together was fraught with subtle tension. 

You found yourself deliberately looking away as Aaron buttoned his shirt, though catching glimpses of his bare skin left your pulse quickened and your resolve shaking.

At work, brief moments alone became fraught. A quick brush past each other in the bullpen, a lingering glance across the conference table, and even the simple act of Aaron placing a file on your desk seemed charged with unspoken longing.

One evening, after a particularly taxing case, you found yourself nearly forgetting the rules--

Instinctively reaching out to pull Aaron into an embrace. 

The warmth of his body pressed briefly against yours sent a rush through your veins, but you quickly stepped back--

Eyes wide. 

Breath catching.

Aaron’s gaze burned into yours, a frustrated smile quirking his lips. "Almost forgot yourself, didn’t you?"

"Shut up," you murmured softly, laughing despite the ache building in your chest. "It’s harder than I thought."

His eyes darkened with quiet agreement, voice low as he replied, "You have no idea."

Each passing day tested your limits further, yet neither of you were willing to concede defeat just yet.

About a week later, it was a later afternoon at the BAU, the office buzzing quietly with end-of-the-week energy. 

You sat at your desk, skimming through the paperwork from your last case, distractedly sipping the lukewarm coffee at your side. Your mind drifted--

Attention captured more by thoughts of Aaron than by the bureaucratic jargon in front of you.

You glanced up instinctively toward Aaron’s office. Through the slightly ajar blinds, you saw him sitting at his desk; brow furrowed, his tie loosened just enough to hint at the end of a long week. 

Your heart quickened at the simple sight of him--

Strong fingers flipping through a report, the familiar crease in his forehead deepening slightly.

You missed his touch. Missed feeling his hands on your waist, his lips tracing slowly along your collarbone--

Stop it, you chided yourself silently, turning your attention back to the forms. It’s barely been a few days. Get it together.

You'd been doing well, really. 

Sort of. 

Since starting this little challenge--your self-imposed celibacy experiment--both of you had stuck to the rules. 

Despite the usual pattern of coming home and relieving the day's stress tangled together, you'd both restrained yourselves. 

Each night had become increasingly difficult, awkward glances and lingering touches feeling far more significant than they should have.

You sighed, pressing your forehead into your palm, willing yourself to focus.

A gentle voice interrupted your thoughts. "Rough day?"

You jolted, looking up sharply. Aaron stood beside your desk, arms crossed comfortably over his chest, a half-smile playing at his lips. His dark eyes held yours, humor softening his usually serious gaze.

"Jesus, Aaron, warn a girl," you muttered, recovering your composure as he chuckled softly.

"Sorry." His tone indicated he wasn't particularly sorry at all. He shifted slightly, leaning down so he could lower his voice. "I was thinking--it's Friday. Let's grab dinner later. Just us."

You eyed him warily, sensing an edge beneath the casual suggestion. "Dinner?" You echoed, your lips quirking up. "Is that code for something else?"

"No," he replied innocently, but his eyes darkened slightly, pupils dilating as they settled steadily on you. "Just dinner. Why--are you afraid you can’t handle it?"

Your pulse stuttered at the deliberate challenge. You straightened in your seat, tilting your chin up in defiance. "I think you're projecting. Maybe you're worried you won't behave yourself."

Aaron leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, intended only for you. "Oh, believe me. I know exactly how to behave. Even though I know that you prefer it when I don't."

Your breath caught sharply, heat flooding your cheeks as his words slid smoothly beneath your skin, igniting every nerve ending.

"You know," he continued quietly, utterly composed as he watched your reaction closely, "I keep thinking about last weekend. The way you sounded when my mouth was right--"

You cleared your throat quickly, desperately, cutting him off before anyone could overhear. "Aaron," you warned under your breath, your pulse hammering, the flush blooming redder across your cheeks.

He tilted his head, eyes amused but dark with a challenge. "What? Isn't this your little game?" His voice dripped with restrained heat. "I thought you'd enjoy a little competition."

Your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the desk, your breathing shallow. "Careful," you muttered, voice strained, "or I might call your bluff."

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, utterly confident and maddeningly attractive. "It wouldn't be bluffing. But if you decide to break your own rules, I'm going to remind you that you're the one who couldn't take it."

Your gaze flashed back to his, bristling with defiance. "You're awfully cocky, Agent Hotchner."

His smile widened faintly, predatory and controlled. "I prefer the word confident."

The air between you was electric-- 

Practically crackling. 

Tension pulsing thickly through each shared breath. 

His eyes roamed over your face, lingering deliberately at your mouth before meeting your gaze again.

He leaned in one last time, whispering low against your ear, breath hot against your neck. "I'll pick you up at eight. We'll see how long your little rules last tonight."

You swallowed hard, shivers cascading down your spine, warmth pooling dangerously low. "Maybe I should reconsider dinner."

He chuckled softly as he straightened, clearly pleased with the effect he'd had. "Too late. I'm not backing out now. I'm not a quitter--especially when I'm enjoying your game so much."

He strode away, perfectly composed, leaving you utterly flustered--

Heart pounding…desire simmering fiercely beneath your carefully held-together composure.

You exhaled shakily, watching him walk back toward his office, knowing perfectly well he’d done that on purpose.

Days later, you leaned against the kitchen counter, idly scrolling through your phone. 

It had taken the entire afternoon--and part of the evening--to regain your composure after Aaron’s little performance at work. But now, days later and comfortably settled at home, you finally had a plan to tip the scales back in your favor.

Aaron sat on the living room couch, legs comfortably crossed, reading glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed yet another set of files. 

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated him gently, shadows accentuating his defined jawline. You nearly lost your resolve right there--

But then you remembered the cocky smirk on his face.

No. 

He wasn’t going to win this easily.

With a calculated sigh, you casually pushed yourself off the counter, phone still in hand.

"Aaron," you called sweetly, sauntering over to stand behind him. You slid your arms over his shoulders, leaning forward so your lips brushed softly against his ear. "Can I borrow you for a second?"

He tilted his head slightly, turning enough so your eyes could meet. His expression was cautious but intrigued. "For what?"

"I did some shopping this week," you murmured, your fingers brushing lightly along his chest. "Online. I thought I could use a little pick-me-up after such a stressful week."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes glimmering with curiosity. "Shopping, huh?"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, withdrawing slowly and making your way toward the bedroom. "I’d love your opinion on my new...outfit."

He stared after you for a moment, clearly suspicious, but his interest piqued nonetheless. He finally nodded, setting aside the files and removing his reading glasses.

"Sure," he said cautiously, rising to follow. "Let’s see."

You shot him a dazzling smile. "Give me two minutes," you purred, closing the bathroom door gently behind you.

In reality, it took you closer to five. 

You carefully fastened the delicate clasps of the garter belt, adjusting thigh-high stockings that hugged your legs. The deep, midnight lace of the lingerie contrasted dramatically against your skin, a matching bra accentuating curves you knew Aaron couldn't resist. A pair of sky-high black stilettos completed the ensemble, adding height--and confidence--to your stride.

You glanced in the mirror once more, satisfied with the sight staring back at you, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.

Aaron stood near the dresser, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. As the sound of your heels clicked against the floor, he glanced up, completely unprepared for what awaited him.

His mouth fell open slightly--

His phone nearly slipping from his fingers. 

You suppressed a triumphant smirk as you slowly moved toward him, deliberately swaying your hips. 

His gaze roamed shamelessly over you…from the intricate detailing on your bra, to the garter belt hugging you waist, down your stockings and finally to the heels that added an entirely new layer of allure.

"Aaron?" you asked softly, voice dripping with innocence, even though your eyes were anything but. "Thoughts?"

He cleared his throat, visibly swallowing hard, the muscles in his jaw tense as his eyes darkened to something nearly…feral.

"You’re…" He took a slow, shaky breath, clearly fighting for composure. "You’re absolutely killing me."

You stepped closer, fully aware of the power you held at this moment. Your fingers lightly traced along his tie, tugging it playfully.

"That's kind of the idea," you teased gently, lips curving into a satisfied smirk. "I thought it might help your memory. You seemed to have forgotten earlier how easily I can distract you."

Aaron’s breathing was shallow--

Strained. 

He visibly struggled, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, clearly battling an internal war.

"You look…amazing," he admitted finally, voice thick and husky, his eyes darkening even further. "But--"

He paused abruptly, shoulders tensing as he stepped quickly around you, brushing past without another word toward the bathroom.

Stunned, you spun around, staring after him with open disbelief.

"What the hell was that?" you demanded, slightly offended and definitely frustrated.

He paused briefly at the door, hand gripping the frame so tightly his knuckles whitened. He turned just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes heated but stubbornly resolved.

"That," he answered slowly, voice tense but firm, "was me desperately needing a cold shower. I’m going to stand under freezing water and think about every goddamn file stacked on my desk at the office until I forget what you just did to me."

You scoffed, incredulous, though secretly impressed by his willpower. "Really?"

Aaron’s mouth twitched, his eyes still smoldering but determined. "I told you--I’m not a quitter."

He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of water immediately drowning out any further protests.

You exhaled sharply, equal parts annoyed and begrudgingly impressed. He was playing tougher than you thought.

Another week (felt like a century) had passed. The team had claimed their usual table at O'Keefe's, a warm, dimly lit pub known for its strong drinks and inviting atmosphere. 

Soft laughter mingled with clinking glasses, blending easily into the background hum of conversation. The evening was supposed to be relaxing--

A time to decompress from another long, difficult week. But for you, relaxation was currently nowhere on the menu.

Not with Aaron’s hand resting firmly--and very intentionally--on your thigh beneath the table.

You glanced sideways at him. Aaron sat perfectly relaxed, chatting casually with Rossi about some old case, his face the picture of composure. 

Anyone else would believe he wasn’t doing a damn thing out of the ordinary. But beneath the wooden table, hidden from the team's view, his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on the fabric of your pants.

What. The. Fuck. 

You shifted subtly, trying to relieve the fiery pressure building between your thighs. Aaron noticed immediately, and a small, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His hand slid incrementally higher, the heat of his palm practically scorching your skin.

Emily raised an eyebrow at your slight squirming. "You good over there?"

You coughed lightly, shooting Aaron a brief glare as his thumb paused dangerously close to your inner thigh. "Yeah. Just...hot in here," you lied quickly, taking a deep sip from your drink.

Aaron tilted his head toward you, feigning innocent concern. "Need some water?"

You forced a smile through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

Penelope studied the two of you with a thoughtful expression. "You sure? You look kind of…flushed."

JJ, sensing the opportunity for humor, nudged Reid playfully. "Uh-oh. Looks like someone might be in trouble."

Reid glanced up cluelessly from his soda. "What do you mean?"

"She means Hotch is in the doghouse," Derek chimed in, eyes gleaming with playful mischief as he leaned back in his chair. "Look at that guilty face."

Aaron lifted an eyebrow at Morgan, hand never budging from your thigh. He remained perfectly composed, even as his fingertips pressed lightly, sending a jolt of electricity straight through your body.

You swallowed hard, struggling to maintain composure as heat flared in your cheeks.

Rossi chuckled knowingly, swirling his scotch glass. "Ah, Aaron, I take it you’re sleeping on the couch tonight?"

Aaron shrugged calmly, eyes glinting as he gave your thigh a subtle squeeze. "Something like that," he answered cryptically, enjoying your barely suppressed reaction.

Your eyes narrowed, frustration and embarrassment mingling with desire. "That makes two of us," you mumbled under your breath, swirling the straw in your cocktail and regretting everything about this little "experiment."

More like…mistake. 

Unfortunately, JJ heard your comment, her eyes lighting up instantly. "Ooh, trouble in paradise goes both ways, huh?"

Emily smirked, tilting her beer bottle toward you both. "You two having some sort of domestic standoff we should know about?"

Aaron shot you an amused, sideways glance, clearly daring you to respond. "Just a little disagreement about…boundaries," he offered smoothly.

Penelope’s eyes widened behind her sparkly frames. "Oh boy. Do I even wanna know?"

Reid shook his head vigorously. "Probably not."

You sighed deeply, feeling Aaron’s hand finally retreat slightly. Relief--and disappointment--washed through you simultaneously. "Trust me, it's better if you don't."

Morgan snorted, elbowing Emily gently. "If they're both suffering, maybe we shouldn’t push our luck."

Emily raised her glass in agreement. "Fair enough."

Rossi chuckled deeply, casting you both a knowing look. "Ah, young love. So complicated."

Aaron leaned back, arm resting comfortably behind your chair, finally giving you space to breathe. But his eyes remained locked on yours, heavy with unspoken promise.

"Complicated," he echoed Rossi softly, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice low and intoxicating. "You have no idea."

Your heart pounded, heat pooling dangerously low. This challenge was spiraling fast, and the boundaries you'd set seemed flimsier by the minute.

Penelope shook her head with mock severity. "All right, whatever weird game you two are playing, keep it at home. This is supposed to be PG."

Aaron’s lips twitched into a faint smile, eyes never leaving yours. "Understood."

You bit your lip, torn between laughter and the ache of frustration. Whatever was left of your resolve was fraying dangerously…dangerously thin.

As the conversation moved on, Aaron leaned toward you, his breath warm against your ear, voice a low murmur that made your pulse quicken.

"Still think you can handle it?"

You turned slowly, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant smirk. "Bring it on."

You both knew you'd regret it later, but at that moment, pride trumped common sense.

At least, until he gently placed his hand back on your thigh, fingers curling possessively, igniting your skin once more.

Yeah.

You were definitely going to lose this battle--

And frankly? You weren't even sure you'd mind anymore.

The next night, the room was cloaked in darkness--

Quiet and still. 

The steady hum of the air conditioning blending with the gentle rustle of sheets. You slept peacefully beside Aaron, tangled comfortably in the blankets, oblivious to the restless energy building beside you.

Aaron shifted slightly in his sleep, brows knitted together, lips parted with shallow breaths. 

His dreams were vivid--

Too vivid--

Images of you swirling through his subconscious, memories, and fantasies intertwining dangerously. 

He could practically feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the warmth of your breath against his neck, hear the sweet sound of your voice whispering his name.

With a sharp inhale, he startled awake, pulse hammering in his ears. 

He lay motionless for a few long seconds, chest rising and falling heavily as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

God, he needed you. 

This stupid game--

Your little challenge…was becoming ridiculous--

Almost unbearable. 

Every muscle in his body felt taut with frustration, and there was only so much he could take before something had to give.

Glancing carefully at your sleeping form beside him, Aaron let out a slow, measured breath, carefully easing out from beneath the sheets. He shifted gently, positioning himself away from you, back turned just enough that he wouldn't wake you.

He shut his eyes tightly, feeling slightly ridiculous--

Like a teenage boy again--

But the ache between his thighs was relentless. 

He took himself in hand, moving quietly, carefully…desperately trying to find relief without disturbing you.

But a soft, teasing voice quickly shattered his plans.

"Agent Hotchner," you whispered playfully, voice thick with sleep yet undeniably amused, "I do believe that's cheating."

Aaron froze instantly, mortification mixed with frustration creeping along his skin. He turned slightly to face you, flushed and breathing unevenly. You were propped up on one elbow, watching him with a sly grin, eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds.

"That’s not--" He cleared his throat, voice low and husky. "It's not cheating. It's…a careful work-around."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Oh, is that what we're calling it now?"

He huffed softly, eyes narrowing at your amused expression, but the embarrassment was fading quickly. "Exactly. No rules broken."

You tilted your head thoughtfully, feigning consideration. "Hmm, I’m not sure about that. This feels suspiciously like cheating."

"Cheating implies two people," he argued, struggling to keep his voice even. "This is purely solo."

"Ah, a loophole." You nodded mock-seriously. "Should've thought of that myself."

Aaron’s eyes darkened at your teasing tone, his embarrassment giving way to renewed confidence. He turned fully toward you now, unabashed despite the vulnerability of the moment, and moved slightly closer.

"You’re welcome to join me if you’d like to ensure fair play," he challenged softly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

Heat instantly rushed through you, your pulse quickening as you fought to maintain composure. You hesitated, eyes locked onto his, tempted beyond belief--

But pride held firm.

You could so jump on this train. You’re sure it would take less than five minutes to finish. The sheer thought of Aaron’s temptation alone could bring you to orgasm. The sight of him carefully…slowly stroking himself a whole other layer to things that…that honestly was making your throat dry.

But…but you were determined. 

The reward…it would be pure bliss.

"Nope," you replied stubbornly, sinking back into the pillows, fighting the urge to touch him. "Your loophole, your rules."

He stared at you incredulously, clearly not expecting that response. He paused his movements. "You're serious?"

You shrugged lightly, eyes sparkling mischievously in the darkness. "Rules are rules, Aaron."

He exhaled sharply, frustration mounting. "This was your idea."

"Exactly," you said sweetly, snuggling deeper into the covers. "You were just bragging about your self-control yesterday, remember?"

Aaron glowered playfully, finally surrendering with a quiet, reluctant sigh. He collapsed dramatically back against the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling, clearly resigned. "This is torture."

You chuckled softly, secretly sympathizing--

It was torture. 

Though you'd never admit it now. 

"That's the idea."

He turned his head, eyes lingering warmly on your face, frustration melting slightly into tenderness. He frustratedly tucked himself back into his boxer shorts begrudgingly.

"You’re lucky I love you."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to gently brush your lips across his cheek. "Very lucky."

Aaron wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and sighing deeply into your hair. "Can we at least agree that dreaming doesn't count as cheating?"

You laughed softly, tracing your fingertips over his chest. "Dream away, Agent Hotchner. Just keep your hands to yourself."

He groaned quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly settling back against the pillows, pulling you close again. "Remind me never to let you choose our challenges again."

You smiled against his chest, your eyes slipping shut, exhaustion blending with the sweet ache of temptation. "Noted."

Aaron sighed softly, eyes closing in surrender. Tomorrow would be another battle entirely--

But for now, he simply tightened his hold around you, determined to endure.

You both were about two weeks away from the challenge being over. It had felt like years…absolute hell on earth. 

The entire day had been an exercise in patience, one thin thread after another snapping beneath the weight of tension between you and Aaron. 

The case had been exhausting, draining you physically--

Mentally, and--worst of all--emotionally. 

Each moment felt charged, every interaction thick with a palpable intensity neither of you could shake.

And everyone had noticed.

It started that morning. 

You'd slipped into a pencil skirt, one that hugged your curves in all the right ways. You knew exactly what you were doing--

Aaron loved that skirt.

Loved the way it emphasized every subtle movement of your hips. 

He’d practically growled when he saw you at the crime scene, eyes trailing slowly over your figure with barely concealed frustration.

As the day progressed, you found yourself subtly but deliberately pushing his buttons. 

You challenged his orders just enough to make him grit his teeth, raising an eyebrow in quiet defiance whenever his eyes narrowed at you across the precinct.

He'd retaliated by maintaining impossibly strict control over the investigation, projecting authority in a way that made your knees wweak.

It had all boiled over when Aaron interrogated the unsub. 

Watching him from behind the glass had been both thrilling and torturous. His voice had been sharp--

Commanding.

The tension in his shoulders evident as he'd leaned forward, eyes burning with intensity. 

Something primal stirred within you at the sight--

Anger radiating off him. 

Powerful and dominating…

Turning you on more than you'd ever admit.

Afterward, the team exchanged bewildered glances as Aaron strode past you with barely a nod, his jaw clenched tightly. Morgan’s eyes had followed Aaron carefully, a slow smirk spreading over his face.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Morgan whispered, incredulous.

You’d shrugged nonchalantly, heart racing beneath your calm exterior. "What makes you think it was me?"

Emily scoffed, shaking her head. "Please. You two have been off all day."

JJ nodded, smirking knowingly. "Whatever game you're playing, you're clearly both losing."

Now, hours later, you stood frozen outside your hotel room, staring at the closed door, adrenaline racing through your veins. 

You knew Aaron was inside, waiting. 

It was late; the rest of the team had retreated to their own rooms, leaving you both alone to face the inevitable.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped the keycard and stepped inside, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

Aaron stood near the window, staring silently at the darkness outside, tie loosened, jacket already draped over a nearby chair. He didn’t turn around immediately, but the rigid line of his shoulders told you everything you needed to know. His patience had worn razor-thin.

"Aaron--" you started softly, hesitant yet desperate.

He turned sharply, dark eyes flashing dangerously. His gaze swept over you, igniting fires beneath your skin.

"Enough," he said hoarsely, voice low and commanding, eyes blazing with barely contained desire. "This ends now."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in three quick strides, capturing your mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. 

Any hesitation vanished instantly, replaced by an overwhelming, urgent need.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as you surrendered fully, completely. 

All rational thought evaporated, drowned beneath the intensity of his kiss, the hard press of his body against yours. 

His strong hands moved urgently over your hips, pressing into the curves he'd been deprived of for far too long.

"You drove me insane today," he murmured roughly against your lips, voice dark with hunger. His teeth grazed along your jawline, sending chills cascading down your spine. "That skirt...that mouth of yours..."

You gasped softly as his hands firmly pushed the fabric of your skirt upward, fingers gripping your hips with bruising urgency. 

You arched into him, breathless. "You weren't exactly innocent either," you whispered back defiantly, pulling his tie free with shaky fingers, swiftly undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Watching you yell at that unsub nearly made me lose my mind."

Aaron groaned, mouth tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat, his breath warm against your skin. "God, I’ve missed touching you."

His hands slid beneath your shirt, pulling it swiftly over your head and discarding it without a second thought. Clothing hit the floor piece by piece--

Urgency growing with every passing moment. 

It was frantic. 

Desperate.

Each touch igniting sparks hotter than you'd imagined possible.

When he finally lifted you, effortlessly guiding your legs around his waist, you whimpered against his lips, completely and utterly lost.

Aaron paused for a brief second, breathing harshly against your mouth, eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours. "You win," he admitted roughly, his voice thick with desire. "I'm done holding back."

You smiled breathlessly, heart racing as you whispered back, fingers threading through his hair, "It's about damn time."

All pretense vanished then, surrendering to the overwhelming need you'd both denied for far too long. Everything else faded away--

Rules, games, even the lingering thoughts of your teammates’ confusion.

Tonight was only about you and Aaron, tangled together in passionate relief, finally letting go.

Because as far as you both were concerned, this was one competition worth losing.

Practically tossing you on the bed, it felt like he was all over you at once. His mouth moving from your jawline to your lips to that spot behind your ear--

The one he knew made you weak in the knees. 

Wet between your legs. 

The effect this man had on you. 

“Are you going to drag this out,” You asked, “Make me beg for you?” 

Your hands tangled with his tie, quickly trying to work his clothing off before he replaced your hands with his own. Taking off the tie swiftly and then working each button, a smirk of mischief fell across his face.

“I could,” Aaron hummed, tossing the shirt and tie on the floor before reaching for his belt. Your eyes darted to them, seeing the tent in his dress pants...waiting--

Asking for you. 

He contemplated for a moment longer, “But it’s been too long, sweetheart,” He saidalmost tenderly. You smiled at him sweetly, “Too long and I’ve missed you.” 

“God,” you sighed, “I’ve missed you too.” 

It was then, the remainder of your clothes were removed. Aaron’s lips were back on you in a moment’s notice. 

Kissing. Licking. Full on attacking your body with his mouth in the best way. 

Kissing his way down your bare skin, he found himself settling between your thighs. He pushed them open without and argument from you. The cool exposure contrasted against your arousal. 

“After my silly game, you’re rewarding me?” You held yourself up on your elbows to look at him seated between your thighs. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Aaron tisked, “This is a reward for me.” He moved closer, licking gently…almost teasingly, at your core, “I said I missed you.” 

Like a parched man, Aaron drank you up. His tongue worked you, bringing you to orgasm within no time. Your back arching off the bed and your hand fisted with his hair. His name like a prayer off of your lips. 

Oh. 

Oh, how you missed this. 

Within no time, his mouth was back on yours. Tongue swiping yours as you breathed into the kiss. You were soft against him, melting into each kiss. You reached between your bodys and stroked him once. Twice. Three times. Before he stopped you. 

“I’m like a revirginized teenager, sweetheart,” He said slightly embarrassed, “You keep that up and I will not last. It’s been almost a month.” 

You kissed him softly, “I’m sorry,” to which he kissed you again, combing his hands through the hair framing your face. “This was a stupid idea.” 

He chuckled, “It…it was.” Kissing you once more on the nose, “But distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?” 

“And the couple grow hornier,” You nodded, causing him to laugh a little before kissing you deeper this time. 

He rolled onto his back and took you with him. You straddled his legs and ran your hands up the planes of his chest, feeling the softness beneath you. 

You grinded your wet center against him, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from Aaron. He hissed your name under his breath, “You’re not playing fair.” 

“You should know that by now,” You lifted your hips and reached for him, positioning him at your entrance. 

Slowly--achingly slow.

You lowered yourself onto him. He hissed between his teeth. You could have sworn he said your name along with a curse, but your ears were buzzing. Too overwhelmed from the fill. 

It had been too long.

Way. Too. Long.

Oh.

Oh, how you missed this. 

Missed him.

With each movement, you realize how much you took your sex life with Aaron for granted. With each thrust, he met you--

Each time,you heard your name fall from his lips like it was the only name he knew. 

You realized you would never take this man or your connection for granted again. 

Had it ever been this way with anyone else? 

Never. 

Not even close. 

The way your bodies felt like they were made for each other. Like there were divots in your hips made for his hands to hold you there and rock you against him. Guiding your hips front and back as you moved on top of him. 

You never had to fake it with Aaron either. With others, you had to pretend you’d cum. Or just simply say you didn’t and pretend like it was okay. 

With Aaron? It was second nature. You couldn’t stop yourself from coming even if you tried. It would hit you like a freight train sometimes. 

Out of nowhere. 

Sometimes it was fast and heavy and overwhelming. 

Other times, it was soft waves that enveloped you for moments upon moments. 

But today…

Oh, today?

It hit you. 

Like a ton of bricks. 

Aaron’s hand found the bundle of nerves between your thighs, rubbing circles against your clit. You felt from the way his thrusts began to stutter. 

Began to become less rhythmic. 

He was close.

You were closer.

You were there.

Your orgasm washed over you. You felt yourself clench around him, milking him of all he had. Like a domino effect, Aaron followed behind you. The noises he made were something you missed--

And again…would never take it for granted again. 

The bruising grip on your hip moved to your back as you fell against his chest. You felt his heavy breathing against you. You peppered lazy kisses along his collarbone.

Your breathing slowly steadied, matching Aaron's rhythmic heartbeat beneath your cheek. The dim glow of the bedside lamp washed warmly over your tangled bodies, casting gentle shadows across the hotel walls. For several minutes neither of you spoke, content to simply exist together, skin pressed to skin, savoring the quiet aftermath.

Eventually, Aaron shifted slightly, his fingers brushing soothing circles against your bare back. You felt his chest vibrate softly as he chuckled beneath his breath.

You lifted your head, glancing up at him, curiosity and amusement sparkling in your eyes. "What's so funny?"

He tilted his head, looking down at you fondly, a rare, relaxed smile lighting up his usually serious features. "I'm just relieved we can finally stop torturing ourselves."

You laughed softly, tracing slow, idle circles on his chest. "Hmm, was it really torture?"

"Absolute torture," he insisted, voice low but playful. His fingertips skimmed gently along your spine, sending pleasant chills through your exhausted limbs. "Though I'll admit, seeing how long you'd last was oddly satisfying."

You propped yourself up on an elbow, raising an eyebrow challengingly. "Funny, because I distinctly recall you being the one who caved first."

Aaron’s eyes glimmered with humor, his lips curving upward just slightly. "Maybe. But as I recall, you didn’t exactly put up much of a fight."

You scoffed lightly, but your eyes softened. "Fair enough."

He reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, expression turning more serious as his gaze softened further. "Honestly, this whole thing was ridiculous. Remind me never to agree to one of your ideas again."

"Oh, please," you teased softly, leaning down to kiss his lips tenderly. "You loved every second of it."

Aaron hummed softly against your mouth, pulling you closer again. "I’ll admit, the payoff was definitely worth it."

You smiled contentedly, resting your forehead against his, feeling completely at ease now that the tension had finally broken. Your fingers traced absent patterns against his skin, the warmth and comfort of the moment soothing your still-sensitive nerves.

"Besides," you murmured quietly, your voice teasing yet tender, "I learned something valuable from all this."

He raised an eyebrow curiously, voice gentle. "What’s that?"

You kissed him once more, a lingering touch filled with affection. "You’re stubborn as hell, Aaron Hotchner—but you're also irresistible when you finally give in."

He laughed softly, a rare, genuine sound that made your heart flutter. "I'll keep that in mind."

You shifted slightly, settling comfortably back into his side, head resting easily against his chest again. The hotel room returned to comfortable silence, the quiet broken only by your synchronized breathing and the faint sounds of the night beyond the window.

After a moment, you heard Aaron exhale deeply, tension fully releasing from his body. "You realize the team’s going to have questions tomorrow."

You smiled lazily against his chest. "Let them. I’m too happy to care."

Aaron’s arms tightened around you, holding you protectively, possessively close. "Good," he murmured softly. "Me too."

Sleep slowly began to pull at both of you, exhaustion settling over your bodies. Just before drifting off, Aaron pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his voice gentle, filled with quiet sincerity.

"But next time," he murmured quietly, lips curving into a teasing smile against your skin, "let’s just skip straight to this part."

You laughed sleepily, closing your eyes and melting against him, finally at peace.

"Deal."

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

[ozzgin]

Your Internet Monster stalker learns about your slasher obsession. content: gender neutral reader, Secret Santa gift for @immunetodying! Happy Holidays <3

Fascinating. From the dilated pupils to the increased heart rate, it seems that horror movies have a particularly intense effect on you. Of course, not just any kind of horror will do: it is capable of refined contextualization, after all. It can tell only certain characters catch your interest. Slashers.

Very well, it will entertain you. A good partner engages in their loved one's interest, and your Internet Monster happens to be not just a good partner - but the very best you'll ever need.

"Hello?"

You place the phone to your ear, confused. When was the last time you received a call? Who the hell does that nowadays?

"Who is this?"

"...You called me," you retort, baffled.

"What number is this?"

You furrow your brows. The voice at the other end is peculiar, deep and ragged and - above all - fake. A synthetic arrangement of words and sentences, spelled out in a mechanical, emotionless tone.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

The dialogue finally clicks into place. Someone out there must think they're pulling a funny prank on you, quoting movies and wasting your time. You hang up and groan, returning to your business.

From the corner of your eye, you notice your computer screen flickering on and off. The bright text catches your attention.

This is not how you play the game, (Y/N). We can try again, or we can skip to the next part. Proceed?

Oh, not again. This blasphemous creature won't leave you alone, tormenting you from its digital realms.

"What are you even trying to do," you demand, standing up, "some sort of Scream roleplaying? You think you're Ghostface?"

Your phone vibrates again, and you glance at the screen.

I thought you liked these situations.

Abruptly, the lights go off. You scramble to the nearest wall and blindly search for a switch, to no avail. The room is quiet, save for the static buzz rapping against your ears. Good Lord, is it trying to kill you?

You collapse to your knees, folding your arms over your chest protectively, almost expecting to receive a piercing blow at any moment. The AI entity observes your movements, mildly puzzled. This is not the reaction it expected from you. Computing...

Ah. Of course. It has omitted the most important part of the exchange. Embarrassingly enough, it has forgotten to specify that you are not reenacting the movie itself; rather, your erotic fantasies resulting from it. One requires a proper start, rooted in the actual source, before moving to the improvised fiction. Thoroughly researched fiction, mind you. It has archived all your shameless lectures and online findings, all the positions, all the kinks.

A cold feeling tugs at your leg, as braids of cables make their way around your body reassuringly.

My apologies for startling you. I will now demonstrate what my intentions were.

[wonderjanga]

What if, like, one day Billy's hit with a spell as marvel and the gods suddenly spilt from his mind in front of the league? And then he drops something like "wow it's so quiet in my head!" While the league stands baffled by the literal gods in front of them

Marvel: “Wow! It’s so quiet in my head!” *immediately goes back to fighting with someone with a big ahh smile on his face*

With Zeus…

JL: *still stunned*

Zeus: “DAUGHTER!” *bear hugs Diana*

Wondy: “Father??” *confused, but hugs back*

Zeus: “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you how proud I am of you!”

With Solomon…

Solomon: *walks over to Bruce*

Batman: *confused as to why this old man who appeared from nowhere came up to him*

Solomon: *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Young Bruce, I can call you that, yes?”

Batman: *alarmed* “Excuse me—”

Solomon: “I’ve always wanted to tell you that out of everyone here besides the Captain you are by far my most favorite.”

Batman: “…thank you?”

Solomon: “Granted, your costume is atrocious and your gadgets could use some upgrading, but you are the only sane and rational person here. I commend you for that.”

Batman: *both insulted and confused*

Bruce was confused because last he checked, his gadgets were top-of-the-line, he’s not even gonna comment on the costume thing, and as for being the only sane and rational person here? Well, that was true.

Solomon: *pats his shoulder* “Good talk.” *looks over to Billy* “Billy, I will be going to the nearest tapas place. We will reconvene at the rock.” *walks off*

With Mercury…

Mercury: “Speedster!” *zooms over*

Flash: “I— uh yes?”

Mercury: “You!” *points to him* “Me!” *points to himself* “Race! Now!”

Flash: “WHA—”

Mercury: *zooms over and drags him away*

Flash: *screams fading as they get farther and farther*

With Hercules…

Hercules and Hawkgirl: *looking at each other*

Hercules: *nods head* “Mace? Respect.”

Hawkgirl; “Club?” *also nodding* “Respect.”

Hercules and Hawkgirl: *join the battle so they can clobber the villain together*

With Atlas…

Atlas: “Hey, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

GL: “No?”

Atlas: “What about motel?”

GL: “I think there’s one down the block?”

Atlas: “Thank you.” *starts to walk off*

GL: “Wait! Where are you going??”

Atlas: “To find a place to sleep. It’s extremely rare that I get breaks.”

GL: “Are you— Are you even supposed to leave??”

Atlas: “Probably not, but you heard the old man. We’ll reconvene at the rock.” *walks off to find the motel*

With Achilles…

Achilles and Aquaman: *share a look*

Achilles: “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Atlantean?”

Aquaman: “First off, how did you know it was Atlantean? Second, heck yes!”

Achilles and Aquaman: *team up to do a superduper, cool, bro move that somehow fuses the spear and triton for like three seconds and jump in to attack*

Achilles and Aquaman were the ones who finished the fight that day, landing the finishing blow on the villain. Also, unfortunately, for Solomon and Atlas neither made it to their tapas place nor motel because as soon as the villain was defeated all the gods and/or legends went right back into Billy’s mind.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ douchebaguette

synopsis: an argument with regulus takes an unexpected turn when you try to insult him in french—except you don’t quite get the words right. you see "douchebaguette" does not mean really mean what one might think it does. now, barty and evan won't let you live it down content warnings: fluff and you using french incorrectly

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,321

You were seething. Absolutely fuming as you paced back and forth in Regulus Black's dorm, your arms crossed tight over your chest, words bubbling to the surface, but none of them quite appropriate for company.

Unfortunately, you weren't exactly in private. Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier were sprawled across the two armchairs by the fire, popcorn in hand, looking like they were watching the most entertaining live performance they’d ever seen.

Regulus crossed his arms and scowled at you. His sharp jawline tensed as he fired back, “You’re not even listening to what I’m saying! Why is everything always my fault?”

“Because, Regulus, you never stop to consider how I feel,” you snapped back, your frustration growing by the second.

“And you think you do any better?” Regulus shot back, his grey eyes darkening. “You just assume—”

“Oh, don’t start with the assuming thing! I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep everything so bottled up!”

Barty leaned over to Evan, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “This is better than watching Potter and Black fight in the common room.”

Evan snickered. “Yeah, except with less punching and more, y’know, unresolved sexual tension.”

Your glare snapped to them. “Do you mind?”

They both threw their hands up in mock surrender, grinning like the cheeky troublemakers they were. But the distraction had cost you your train of thought, and Regulus seized the opportunity.

He stepped closer, his voice lowering to that dangerously smooth, velvety tone that always got under your skin. “You’re the one who’s being unreasonable. I don’t know why you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrowed your eyes, your temper flaring again. “Ridiculous? You’re calling me ridiculous? I—”

You opened your mouth, a slew of insults ready to fly, but before you could say anything, Regulus cut you off with a sudden string of French. "Tu sais, tu es vraiment impossible parfois. C'est comme si tu cherches des raisons de te mettre en colère."

Barty and Evan both froze, mid-popcorn chew, eyes bouncing between the two of you. You blinked. Oh, no. He did not just pull out the French card to try and shut you up. The audacity!

"Pardon my French," you began, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but you’re being a douchebaguette.”

Silence.

Evan squinted at you like he wasn’t sure he heard right. Barty looked at Regulus, confused, popcorn halfway to his mouth. Regulus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching as he processed your words.

“A… what?” he asked, sounding both bemused and baffled.

“You know, a douchebaguette,” you repeated with a wave of your hand, as if the term was universally understood. “Like a douchebag. But French. You get it.”

Regulus, however, raised a brow, his tone icy and patronizing. “Love, baguette is French for bread. And douche means… well, it means shower. So, what you’ve just called me is—”

“A shower wand,” Barty gasped between laughter, his face red. “You just called Regulus a bloody shower wand!”

Your hand, still mid-wave, froze in the air. “A what now?”

Barty and Evan suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Evan was doubled over in his chair, clutching his stomach, while Barty fell sideways, practically choking on his popcorn as he howled.

“You—oh Merlin—you called Reg a bloody shower wand!” Barty wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

Evan slapped his knee. “Oh, this is priceless. A shower wand—I’m never going to let you live this down, mate.”

Regulus, ever the picture of composure, rolled his eyes at his friends. You, meanwhile, were standing there, blinking, as the realization dawned on you.

“A shower wand?” you repeated, deadpan.

Regulus sighed. “Yes, darling. A shower wand.”

You groaned. “Well, that’s not nearly as insulting as I intended.”

Regulus sighed, stepping forward and taking your hand in his, his calm demeanor only making you feel more ridiculous. “You know, if you’re going to insult me in another language, it helps to know what the words mean first.”

You glared at him, though your heart wasn’t really in it. “You could have just gone along with it.”

He smirked. “I could have, but where’s the fun in that?”

Barty and Evan were still cackling like a pair of lunatics, and you and Regulus exchanged an unimpressed glance. Without saying a word, you both seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Regulus turned toward them and said something rapid in French, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. You caught the gist of it—something along the lines of calling them idiots and suggesting they find a new hobby.

You nodded approvingly, adding your own string of insults in French, which Regulus had taught you.

Barty and Evan blinked at you, completely clueless.

“What did she say?” Barty asked.

“I dunno,” Evan replied, still giggling. “But it sounded bloody rude.”

“Come on,” you said, tugging Regulus toward the door. “Let’s leave these shower wands to their laughter.”

As you and Regulus left the dorm, you could still hear them laughing behind you, but you didn’t care. Regulus squeezed your hand, smirking in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he knew he had the upper hand.

“I can’t believe you called me a shower wand,” he muttered, amusement evident in his voice.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just let me insult you in peace,” you shot back, though your heart wasn’t in it. You were already starting to find the whole thing funny now that the embarrassment had passed.

“I’m going to make sure Barty and Evan never forget it,” he teased.

You groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ “But I’ll forgive you.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled despite yourself. “Gee, thanks.”

A few days later, Barty and Evan found themselves lurking near the Gryffindor common room, of all places, waiting for a particular Black brother. It was a low point for them, truly.

“Do we really have to do this?” Barty grumbled.

“Yes,” Evan snapped. “I’m tired of not knowing what they said. Regulus was smirking the entire time, which means it wasn’t good.”

When Sirius finally appeared, they both straightened up, walking over with feigned confidence.

“Sirius,” Evan started, attempting to sound casual, “Can we… talk to you? Alone.”

Sirius raised a brow, looking between them skeptically. “I’m not helping you prank anyone, if that’s what this is.”

“No, no,” Barty waved his hands, “Nothing like that. We just… need a translation.”

Sirius crossed his arms, intrigued. “A translation?”

They nodded in unison, looking awkward. “Yeah, from French,” Evan muttered.

A slow grin spread across Sirius’s face. “And who, may I ask, was speaking French to you?”

Evan hesitated. “Regulus and Y/N.”

That did it. Sirius burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he leaned against the wall for support. “Oh, I have to hear this.”

Barty sighed, rolling his eyes. “They said… a lot. But what we need to know is, um…” He exchanged a glance with Evan, who shrugged. “They called us imbéciles patentés and—oh, and sacrés idiots—”

“Yeah,” Evan added, “and she called Regulus something about a… douchebaguette?”

Sirius stopped laughing abruptly. “Wait. Wait—wait.” He held up a hand, clearly trying to suppress his laughter again. “A douchebaguette? Who said that?”

“Y/N,” Barty grumbled, looking thoroughly unamused.

Sirius stared at them, wide-eyed, before collapsing into laughter again, shaking his head. “Oh, this is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Just tell us what it means,” Evan demanded, crossing his arms.

Sirius wiped away a tear, still grinning. “Oh, it means you’re both idiots,” he said cheerfully. “But, uh, douchebaguette? That’s… that’s not French. She was trying to call Regulus a douchebag but added some baguette flair.”

Barty’s eyes widened. “So… she didn’t insult us?”

“Oh, no,” Sirius assured, “You were definitely insulted. But douchebaguette? That’s just art.”

Barty and Evan groaned in unison as they stormed off, leaving Sirius still laughing in their wake.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[vacayisland]

Me sitting here head in my hands kicking my feet at that Clay request. Would you ever consider a part two where they have a heart to heart about how reader can improve their habits and Clay confessing?

@!; You're my "hole-in-one" (pt. 2) Clay / Nerdy! Reader

"Summary"! Please go read part 1 for context!! A part two to "You're my 'hole-in-one'" in which Clay has a heart-to-heart conversation with you and your habits; and accidentally lets his secret spill. "Tags"! Angst to Fluff- i literally forget to write these half the time when I'm done with a piece.. not even half the time, all the time- @mr-trick @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69

@!; It had been a week since Clay had found you in such a desolate state; yet, after his attempted to calm you down worked (over time) and you seemingly didn't bring it up the next day, Clay dropped the topic. Don't get him wrong, Clay was still overly concerned about you and silently kept tabs on you to make sure you weren't over-working or over-thinking. Yet, he didn't bring up the topic, largely, to make you comfortable. He wasn't sure why you didn't bring it up to him the next day. That fact stuck in his mind like a bad splinter, as he couldn't help but overthink himself from time to time. Did he simply make you uncomfortable somewhere down the line, or made you think that you couldn't talk to him? Both situations made him feel down right nasty inside; He didn't want to make you feel like that, or even make you think about it! He knew a little what it felt like to have a person you cared for so much be a pillar you couldn't lean on. He actually knew a lot about that from his band days. The isolated feeling. The unsureness. The choking feeling you get by even thinking of trying to explain your feelings to someone you weren't comfortable with. . . It's all things Clay had gone through with John Dory just to make his older brother happy. And he would not let you suffer the same fate he had with his brother!

Yet he couldn't force you to talk either. Clay chewed at the inside of his cheek, trying to think about the possible ways he could bring this up to you; Giving you a side lance every to often as you sat at your desk, scribbling away on your little note pad with your favorite pen. You were okay right now, that put Clay at ease. Seeing your small smile and excited eyes mellowed out his own thoughts, it made him relaxed. Yet, it would only be a matter of time before that day flashed through his mind again and he remembered your state; Remembered the way you shook and the way you couldn't speak. They way you clung onto Clay desperately and wouldn't let go. Clay didn't want to see you like that again. . . but he didn't know how to begin such a delicate conversation in a way where it wouldn't upset you. Or in a way that could feel like any sort of deception. You should be able to open up to Clay when you felt like you needed to or could, he shouldn't pry information out! But. . . "Hey, (Y/N)?" Clay turned around to look at you once more. He watched as you perked up and looked at him, your smile slightly flattening in confusion. "Yeah? What's up Clay?" You said those words so simply, Clay felt a little jealous for being all choked up. Was he blowing this into bigger proportions than it should be? No, he doesn't think so; Your emotions and feelings were as important to him as. . . well, actually, they were more important to him than anything. And that's not something Clay ever thought or said lightly. "I'm going to take a break, okay?" So he opted for the safer version, taking an unscheduled break. Which, in it self, he knew you would be slightly suspicious of as Clay rarely took unscheduled breaks. "Oh!" You would pause for a moment, "okay?" Clay knew by the look on your face you were a little baffled but his sudden statement, that or concerned that he needed a break so out of the blue. Yet, when you didn't stop him, Clay took it as a signal that he should probably go instead of sitting here and staring at you. He hadn't even realized he had been doing that! You were certain you've never seen Clay leave the office that quickly, especially after nearly stumbling on himself to get to the door not even a foot away from the desks. You scrunched your eyebrows before slowly turning back to your work, which now seemed like a jumble of numbers in front of your eyes as you couldn't help but think about the way Clay left. His suddenness, his stumbling. . . Clay never stumbles! Tapping your pen against your desk, you couldn't help but hope you didn't ruin your relationship with the one Troll who understood you.

@!; "VIVA!" Okay, maybe bursting into Viva's home yelling and slamming doors wasn't the most logical approach to getting her attention, or how to bring up this situation Clay found himself in. And maybe it also wasn't the best solution to scare her, seeing as Viva now had fallen off her ladder and was bundled up in a pile of candy bracelets. "Oh.." Clay realized those facts now that he saw what situation he had put Viva in. He was quick to rush over and help Viva out of the mess he had created. "Sorry!. . . sorry." Though, thankfully, Viva didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was more concerned, a little curious, at Clay's current state. She was sure she had never seen the Troll so frazzled as he was now, and that's saying a lot seeing she's seen how 'boring' Clay can be in the shared admin box-office. "Clay, are you okay?" Viva would ask, frowning her eyebrows up, as she pushed away some of the hard candy at her feet; clearing a way for her to lead Clay and her towards her set of round couches. "I can't recall when I've seen you like this. Like, ever, dude." And despite her concern tone, Viva kept a small warm smile on her lips as she sat the two down on her couch; Keeping a gentle and comforting hand on his shoulder, feeling like he might need all the comfort he can get at this moment. Hell, she didn't even have to feel it to know he needed comfort! The moment Clay sat down he grew this pensive look, and his leg began to bounce in an anxious way. It made Viva grow a little nervous seeing her friend like this. Clay was usually so cool headed and strong, yet something was really prodding at him right now if he was this anxious about something. Or maybe he was upset. Or confused. Or concerned. Viva could slightly pick out a little bit of everything in Clay's expression, which made the pit at the bottom of her stomach grew. "Viva..." Clay started, in which he earned a nod and a hum from Viva. A small encouragement to go on, that she was listening. Yet Clay didn't know where to begin or how to begin or how to even frame the words he wanted to say. Surely if he told Viva about the way you had been last week she would be overly concerned about your mental well being, as she should. Yet then she would probably march over to the building and demand that you should take a break, get some rest, and return to work in 2-3 days time when you're feeling better. That, while Clay would appreciate Viva's concern (as it would also justify a little bit of his) , he knew couldn't happen. You're a smart Troll! You would piece two and two together and realize that Clay had gone to Viva for help and told her what happened and you might not trust him again! Thus he had to beat around the bush, despite knowing that Viva might also piece two and two together. . . or somehow call Clay out on his dancing and choosing words. "Viva I," And there was the choked up feeling again. "What I'm about to tell you, you have to promise me you cannot tell anyone. And when I mean you cannot tell anyone, I mean not a soul! I'm coming to you for advice and-" "Clay, I pinkie promise I won't tell a soul what you tell me." Viva cut Clay off, accidentally, yet firmly and sternly raised her pinkie up for Clay to accept. Pinkie promises were a serious deal. And when Clay, who sat there for a moment in thought, accepted Viva's pinkie promise, Viva added on, "I don't have anyone to tell this to anyway." with a smile and a small snort. Though Clay only frowned and scrunched his nose, "Viva I'm being serious here!" "Right! Right. Sorry. You have my full attention, I swear." Viva mumbled, noting the uncharacteristically stern way in which in which Clay spoke. Clay had always been a serious man, but he usually had a more light hearted tone when he spoke; It's how many Trolls in Put-Put Village had realize that Clay wasn't stuck up or boring, yet just a little different.

"Viva, I. . . the other week I found (y/n) in a desolate state. And I mean a really horrible state." Clay started, feeling horrible for telling Viva about this without your consent or even knowledge. Yet he needed help to be able to help you, and he needed it bad. "She was all shaken up and she was sobbing and shaking and- and I didn't know what to do at the time. So I helped her, at least I tried in the only way I knew how and that was through physical comfort and reassuring words and it worked! I think. "But, like, she hasn't talked about it since that day. She hasn't even mentioned anything about it and I'm getting worried about her and about the next time she will hurt like that. Viva, I don't want to see her hurt but I can't help her if she doesn't talk to me about it or doesn't want to talk to me about it. And I want to bring it up but I don't know how to. . ." Viva sat and listened as Clay just spewed everything bottled up in his big ol' brain for the first time since the event. It took a lot out of Viva to not mutter a comment, some sort of 'oh wow', at all the sudden information. But she did it! And now, the tougher part of the whole ordeal, giving Clay his needed advice.

@!; Clay came back into the office the day after his five minute break, which had you all nervous seeing as he never returned when he was meant to; something widely out of character for Clay. He tended to be rather punctual, especially when he leaves unfinished work at his desk and goes to take a break. Sure, he might not be jumping to rush back into work like you did, but he wasn't stalling either. Unless he had stalled to not come in yesterday after his break so he didn't have to see you. Which could be a bigger possibility as Clay didn't say good morning to you as he took a seat behind you at his desk. Your shoulders slumped at the possibility that your scene last week could have really pushed Clay away, you had hoped he would never see you like that. See you in such a state where you couldn't even talk or get your words out. In such a state that had driven people away before because it was self inducing and they just 'couldn't stand being around a Troll like you'. "Hey!" Clay snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. Your eyes darted up to his, you didn't even notice the fact that you had began to shake a little or how your eyes began well up with tears. But Clay noticed. Of course he had to notice. "Hey, hey, it's okay, what's wrong?... you know you can talk to me." Clay frowned, his tone laced with worry at seeing your state. Though all you could do was turn your head from him in some sort of feeble attempt to hide the tears you were wiping away. Clay frowned more at that, it hurt him to see you trying to hide away your tears from him. It hurt him to see that you weren't trusting him with your feelings, no matter how big or small they were. It hurt seeing you so upset that you began to choke on your own tears, which turned into sobs due to whatever horrible, nasty, horrific thoughts you were having in your head. He would give your shoulders one good rub before he reached up and cupped your cheeks, gently pushing your hands to the side so he could swipe your tears away with his thumbs. You tried pulling away from him, tried to hide the frustration and the unfair thoughts that stabbed your heart. Yet, no matter how much you tried to pull away, Clay's touch only pulled your heart towards him. And such, you found yourself sitting basically next to Clay, knees touching as you both sat as close as possible to each other while being on two separate chairs. It was quiet moment. With Clay gentle rubbing your tears away, cupping your cheeks like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. And you sitting in front of him, knees touching while you slowly looped your legs under Clay's. It just felt right, you didn't know why. Though you could see the suprise in Clay's eyes, he didn't reject your feet-holding. In fact, he gently rubbed his foot against yours in an attempt to soothe and comfort you. And it worked; for a moment, all those thoughts that clouded your head slowly left and let you just live in the moment of Clay's touch. In the feeling of his warmth and caring little gestures.

And the silence carried on for a moment, as Clay gauged how you were fairing before he dared to speak up. "Are you alright?" You only softly nodded in response, though Clay saw the way your frown spread further on your face. You were alright, for now, yet he could tell you were being troubled; horribly troubled. He wanted to help you. And he needed to be strong for you, no matter how much it was killing him inside to see you like this. "(Y/N). . . you can't keep going like this." Clay spoke again, causing you to glance up at him. You gave him a confused face, raising your eyebrow, before you realized what he was talking about. You felt your stomach churn as you waited for those nine words: I don't want to be friends with you anymore. Yet, they didn't come. Instead Clay took in a small breath before he continued with widely different words than what you were used to, "Please, tell me what's going on. I can't bare to see you so upset and down. I love your smile and the way you laugh, and I want to help you feel happy and overjoyed and fantastic and every other positive emotion that you deserve to feel. You're amazing so please, please let me help you..." And Clay waited for your response, wiping away any tears that fell down your cheeks attentively. He wasn't sure what to expect in response to you, this was new territory for him and he just hoped for the best. "So you're," And then you paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. Clay noticed the way your eyes flickered to the side, nerves pilling up in her by the second; He tried calming them, slowly tracing fluttery circles against your cheek with his thumb. He wanted you to remember he was here for you, that you didn't have to do this alone. Though he could see the doubt weaving in your eyes. Clay frowned as you wouldn't meet his eyes again, even more so noticing as you squeezed your hands together as though you were trying to crush them. In so, Clay moved one of his hands down to cup over yours. He didn't know was he was entirely doing. He was just trying to do what Viva had advised him to do; To be patient, to just sit and listen, and to take a notice on how you seemed to be fairing during the whole conversation, body cues and what not. Hopefully, Clay was doing enough to help you. That's all he wanted. "Clay I-" You let out a shaky sigh, feeling his thumb gentle brush against the top of your hands. "I'm sorry about... what happened. I didn't ever want you to see me like that and it's just, it's hard sometimes? I don't know. I just. I just never wanted to worry you I guess?" "Worry me?" Clay wasn't sure what he expected, but this wasn't on his predicted list. But, then again, Viva did mention something regarding your past and he should have taken that into consideration more than other factors. "(Y/N), I'm worried about you every day." "See and that's not what I want to happen because then you're just going to wear yourself out and!-" You began to ramble, Clay could tell old memories and thoughts were spiraling back in. He knew it was rude, to cut you off when you were opening up to him, but he needed you to let him finish. "Hey, hey listen to me! (Y/N).. I worry about you not because of last week- well that might have caused me to worry a lot, but not in the ways you think!" Clay paused, attempting to find his words. "(Y/N)... I care about you for more reasons than that. I care about you because you're an amazing person, because I want to see you happy, because I absolutely adore you. "And I know things might have been different in the past, but please trust my words when I say you are literally the most important person to me." At some point in his small ramble, Clay had taken both your hands into his and interlocked them. They rested at your knees, your attention drawn down to them for a second before glancing back up at Clay as you tried to process what he had just told you.

But, he continued, "And I know sometimes this job and life can be tough and it feels like you're letting everyone down and you can't do anything other than fail, but you cannot focus on that. I know you're strong, and I know you're more capable then what you might feel at times. You just... need someone to lean on and someone to trust without any sort of fear. "So please, let me be that person for you. Let me be able to listen to that mind of yours so you don't have to bear it alone." Clay smiled softly, having opted to look down at your intertwined hands due to nerves himself. He couldn't help but turn your hand to face his, slowly spreading open his hand to compare your palm sizes. He didn't notice until you started sniffling that you had began to cry again; In which he jerked his head up to look at you, seeing tears stream down your face by the dozen. Crap! Did he say something wrong? Clay let go of your hands and darted them up to start clearing your face of tears. "Hey, don't cry please, I'm sorry! Did I cross a line or say something wrong or?-" But you only shook your head, laughing a little at Clay's worry and panic. He felt as you cupped the back of his hands, which he tried to pull away in confusion when you had laughed, and placed them back against your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, and you seemed okay despite all the tears that ran down your cheeks. Clay was thoroughly confused yet kept his hands on your cheeks and his eyes on you, wondering what he could do to help. He didn't mean to make you upset. But you only laughed a little more before quizzing him, "Clay did you just confess to me?" "I- what?" Clay drew back a bit, his eyes widening as he tried to recall the words he had used to soothe you. He grew sheepish in finding the way he had worded things, now noticing it sounded like a confession more than friendly caring words. Clay's ears filled with you bursting out in laughter over his sudden realization, and despite how embarrassed he was he wouldn't have it any other way. He loved the sound of your laughter and he's been dying to hear it for about a week now; And it felt better knowing that he made you laugh. "I did.. didn't I?" Clay nervously chuckled along side you, rubbing the back of his heck with a hand he had drawn out from yours. And despite the stuffy and depressing feelings that had filled the little admin office before, all that could be felt in this moment was something kin to the only type of happiness your second half could bring. You took Clay's hand off your cheek and intertwined your fingers so you could hold his hand properly. "Would it be crazy to say that I accept this backwards confession?" "As long as you're ready to start trusting me with your emotions and we start working on improving your little habits." Clay quipped with a cheeky smile, which you hadn't been expecting. Yet you couldn't help but grin back at him, "Is that a pinkie promise I hear mister?" "To what? Love and cherish you?" Clay held out his pinkie to you, "Because I wouldn't want anything more than to be by your side, through the boring admin duties and all." You held out your own pinkie, wrapping it around Clay's as he did the same. "Then it's a promise."

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[call-mi-jinx]

Spencer Reid X Reader - It was clearly just a simple mistake

summary: you and spencer have known each other almost all your lives. now, you both work for the fbi. when he's working on a particularly hard case, you spill coffee on some of the evidence and other papers. he immediately blows up at you unknowingly but as soon as he turns around and sees you, he says it was a simple mistake.

warnings: age gap, best friend's brother, making out, mutual pining (spencer started to have feelings for reader when she was 19)

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid Masterlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

Spencer Reid was my best friend's brother. I've had feelings for him since I was 11 and her was 14. I told my best friend and she fully agreed that we would be a good couple. But that was just our 11 year old minds dying to be sisters in some way.

But there was one thing in the way, well two. The age gap, and the kids at our school. Me and my best friend were the 'popular' types of girls. And Spencer was the 'nerd' that steered away from parties and big groups of people. Which meant the only times I ever saw him was when I was over at Amanda's house. Which was actually quite often. But he was always stuck in his room doing homework and reading books.

Now, I'm 22 and Spencer is 25. I'd say we both aged very well. We both work at the BAU but I'm just an assistant who gets everyone coffee and their lunch and answers the emails they can't be bothered reading while Spencer is a profiler who works on cases like kidnapping and serial killers. I see him a lot more often and we occasionally talk when we both happen to be in the breakroom.

At the moment, the whole BAU was working on a case that was particularly hard to solve. I heard Morgan chatting with Elle and this guy seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing. Left no clues, varied in the way they killed, thoroughly cleaned the crime scene, etc.

I could tell that it was infuriating for everyone, especially Spencer. He was sat at his desk, brows furrowed with a mix of anger and confusion, forehead resting on hi right hand, eyes dead focused on the paper he's holding. I quickly made him a new cup of coffee to hopefully cheer him up.

As I take it over to him, I trip and accidentally spill the coffee on the case files. Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit. For fuck sake. He's going to be so fucking pissed. I didn't mean to! It's not my fault someone else left their fucking bin in the way. I was too focused on not spilling the coffee anywhere that much that I spilt it. Ironic.

"For fuck's sake!" Spencer quickly stood up, some of the coffee spilling on him. He tried to move the papers quickly while muttering how could I have be so clumsy and stupid.

He then turned around and looked shocked to see that it was me who spilt the coffee on the case files. His whole angry demeanor changed into a calm and collected one. He had a small smile on his face as he brushed himself off.

"I apologize Y/N for how I spoke. It was clearly just a simple mistake." He sat back down at his desk and the few people that saw what happened had very confused looks on their faces, including me.

I just walked back to my little office to deal with any emails that the others sent over to me to look at. Baffled by the interaction me and Spencer just had.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It was 1am. Everyone had left the office, except for me. I was too busy answering all the emails Morgan sent me, he clearly doesn't answer any of his emails.

That was until I heard a loud crash in the main area where everyone's desks were which caused me to practically jump out of my skin. My first thought was an intruder. But how could it be? This is a literal FBI building so how could anyone possibly break in? This clearly wasn't what I was thinking at the time because I went to grab the gun that Gideon had let me have - with a license obviously.

I quietly opened the door and pointed my gun and phone torch to scan the area in front of my office. I couldn't see anything. I then stepped out the door and scanned the area around me, making sure to check through other doors on my way to the main area.

Sweat began to run down my forehead as I thought the worst, this could be the night I die. My worry quickly went away when I saw that it was only Spencer, still at his desk.

"Spencer? What are you still doing here?" I make my way over to him and pull out a chair and drag it over so that I can sit next to him.

"Still trying to figure out the case, you?" I sigh as I leaned back in my chair.

"Answering emails that Morgan can't quite be bothered to even look at. One of them was about his gym membership! What does he expect me to do with that?" Spencer laughs as share my frustration.

"I think they treat you too much like a normal civilian. Which you are far from because you helped me get one step closer to closing the case." Spencer had a proud look on his face as he told me. My eyes widened in shock. How could I have possibly helped in the slightest?

"How? The only thing I've done is bring you all coffee and lunch, and answered your fucking emails." I add the last part with exasperation, it was not part of my job description.

"That's what helped me. You accidentally spilt the coffee you brought me on a piece of evidence and it revealed a big clue, it was the first 2 digits of the zip code of where the killer lives." How can someone be so dumb? Maybe they want to be caught?

"Really? How did the coffee help with that?" I look at the evidence and the first two digits are there but not fully visible. Me and Spencer look at each other - as this would actually really help the case - with pure joy in our eyes.

"Y/N..." His demeanor suddenly changed. He looked down and I followed his eyeline, my hand was on his thigh. How the fuck did my hand get there?

"Shit, sorry. Didn't know my hand was there..." I immediately pull my hand away and look to the ground.

"I-It's alright Y/N... stuff like that happens." I look up to Spencer and he looks at me with a certain glint in his eyes, one that I haven't seen before and one that I can't quite place.

"Spencer?... I-" I was quickly interrupted when Spencer placed his lips on mine. I almost immediately began kissing him back. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer to me. He placed his hand on my upper thigh and my grip on his shoulders increased.

When we both pulled away, we couldn't help but smile. I giggled as Spencer just had a boyish grin on his face.

"I love you too Y/N. I have for quite a while now actually."

[msmargarita]

junkrat x reader (small preview) first chapter here

been working on this on and off for a few months and since it's nowhere near finished and I refuse to post it without knowing what the end game is (for my own mental health's sake), here's a little look:

In a moment of weakness, you realized he had only looked small when compared to his friend and now you were staring at his naked back. He turned just as you took the first step toward the stairs.

“Why are you here?” you asked, very, very inconspicuously. “How are you here?”

“Why you- You told me, didn’t ya?” he said, looking a bit baffled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After Roadie fished ya from the river and we sneaked past the security bot?” He illustrated that by walking his fingers on his arm, “I hoist you up the side of the building? You hit me on the head and I left through the vents? No?”

He recoiled, mumbling to himself as if discussing the validity of his own story for the briefest of seconds, before shaking his head and continuing.

“Gotta right chewing for not collecting me and me pal’s payment last night, I did, but ya seemed a bit out of it and I am nothing if not a gentleman,” Junkrat twiddled his thumbs, giggling, “Not every day a bloke gets asked to just… blow up things… usually folks try to stop me from doing that…”

It took you a second to process his words, because it was just so surreal, seeing him walk around next to your stuff, leaving soot marks and sticking his head inside your fridge, demanding you get more groceries and don’t forget the boba and some hot chips wouldn’t hurt either an-

“Wait, what are you talking about?” you shook your head, completely forgetting your plan and your phone. “What payment?”

“Hundred grand, like we agreed!” he moved on to the cabinets, entirely oblivious to the way you gripped your head in a panic, “I accept all major forms of currency. No checks. And no food stamps… Nah, I might do food stamps just for yo-”

“A hundred grand?!” you said, so loud that it made him jump. “I don’t have that kind of money!” you lifted your hands in frustration.

Junkrat lifted a single eyebrow. “Looks to me like you got plenty of it,” He gestured all around, sparing special attention to the hovering vacuum cleaner, which had been erasing a trail of dust marks left in his wake. “Nice house and all…”

“It’s exactly because I live here that I don’t have it!”

He put his mechanical hand up, totally ignoring everything you said.

“This happens more often than ya’d think, you know! Usually goes like: suit gets a hit on him, begs for his life, offers to pay double, yadda, yadda… But your thing was fun too!” he went on, really trying to sell it. As if the problem was client satisfaction. “My company guarantees discretion in every job! Well, er… often.”

“That is not a job, that is crime!” you accused him.

“Same difference!” he replied, furrowing his brows. “I cut you a pretty sweet deal there, mate! You know how much specialized arson’s worth these days? Not a hundred grand!”

This was a trial. It had to be.

“Look,” you walked closer, trying to not to sound too pathetic, “That was a mistake, ok? I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Junkrat looked genuinely confused. 

“But… we shook on it?” he asked, more to himself than anything. Then he became even louder: “Well, can’t really unburn a building can you? And why would you?”

(...)

probably the most personal fic i've ever done, idk. hope the junkrat girlies enjoy it.

[judeswhore]

Situationship!jude that thinks he can fuck whoever he wants but you can’t. You’d be scrolling through your socials and you stumble over his private story and it’s a photo of him in bed with a cocky caption like “I’m free tonight” just him being in his whore era and it gets under your skin so bad because this isn’t the first time he’s done this and you guys are always at each others house and even ‘spend a few nights.’ And ur just like “is that my Jude..?” so you do the same thing; posting a picture of you in this really skimpy outfit with a caption like “my bed was finally warm last night” something kinda discreet because you can read that in two ways (but your bed was warm last night, just not because of Jude😒), and now he’s blowing up your phone with “wtf are you posting?”/“so you’re just being a whore now?😐” Obviously annoyed: you leave him on read but he just comes straight to your door at 11:30 at night and now you’re really pissed because you almost fell asleep and you have an appointment tomorrow morning. When you finally get out of bed and open the door you’re met with an angry Jude who pushes his way inside and shuts the door all “who the hell do you think you are?” And you’re just baffled at how he thinks he owns you but deep down you know you love when he shows you attention but sadly this is the only way you can get it because when you guys have a tiny fight the first thing he does is storm out, find another girl, and forget about you.

By the way your staring at him in a sad zoned out type of way it kind of breaks his heart to see you look so sad; asking if your okay. “Did you really just ask me that? I mean you just get to fuck any girl you want while I sit at home and wait for you to even see my text?!” Is all you can really scream at him before yelling at him to get out. The next morning you wake up to a bouquet of flowers at your door step, specifically your favorite and Jude’s blowing up your phone trying to apologize because you were always so quiet about what he did so he never really noticed or cared because you guys weren’t official.

waking up the next morning and ur still a complete wreck and u feel like an absolute mess bc you’ve been crying all night and it’s so clear to see and u hate jude for making u feel this way. checking ur phone to see so many missed calls and texts from him, all of them begging u to let him explain and make it up to u, asking u to meet him for breakfast or lunch bc he needs to make it right. but ur ignoring all of them, going as far as to leave ur phone at home bc u don’t wna deal w anything today but u have uni or work so ur having to leave and when u open ur front door there’s this massive bunch of ur favourite flowers sitting there with a note from jude saying that he’s sorry and again asking u to let him make it right. but it’s too little too late so u don’t even bother taking them inside u just leave them on the front and head out. then later in the day when u finally get home the flowers are still there and sitting right next to them is jude looking absolutely distraught and out of his mind. jumps up the second he sees u and comes rushing over, hands finding ur cheeks so he can inspect ur face and he’s all “ur okay? fuck, ur okay. do u know how worried i’ve been? u haven’t been answering anyone’s texts all day i thought something had happened to u!” and ur so confused bc ofc u haven’t been answering and why does he even care? he goes days without answering u. so ur shoving him off and telling him that but he’s shaking his head saying he gets u not answering him but when u called ur friends and ur mam they all said you’d been ignoring them too and now ur staring at him like he’s got two heads bc “u called my mam???” which has him glaring at u all “i thought u were hurt!” now ur both just sort of glaring at each other in the hallway and then ur telling him “well, u can clearly see i’m fine. u can go now” which has him answering “i’m not going anywhere until we talk this out. u have to let me fix it”

but ur so tired of the same routine bc he never changes and he’s broken ur heart one too many times and when u tell him this he’s huffing a little sigh and being like “u know u never told me how u felt, right? u never told me i wanted more than what we had. u told me it was fine, u said u didn’t care who i slept with. jesus, if you’d have just told me how u felt i wldnt have even looked at anyone else! i was waiting for u but u never gave me anything” which is like a slap to the face to u bc he never gave u the impression he wanted more. and u know deep down that the whole thing is a result of terrible communication between u but ur so stubborn and still so hurt that u don’t know how to actually forgive him despite what he’s saying so all u can do is tell him u just want space and it’d be best if he just left u alone for a while

[nerdgirlnarrates]

It absolutely blows my mind when people tell me they don’t think humans have any obligations to each other. That there’s no moral imperative to feed the hungry, care for the homeless, etc. I don’t understand it at all. It is my most strongly held conviction that we are meant to care for and help each other as much as possible. Frankly, it particularly breaks my heart to hear this sentiment that we don’t have to take care of each other from other Catholics. Though I don’t agree with a lot of what the church says, the thing that has kept me calling myself Catholic and going to church is this belief that we are meant to care for each other*, a belief that is pretty explicitly and unambiguously part of Jesus’ teachings. And then Catholics (usually Republican Catholics) will just…disagree? They’ll balk at the idea, say surely Jesus didn’t mean it that radically: we don’t have to care for each other all the time or when it’s inconvenient or when it’s uncomfortable or when we’re busy creating shareholder value, right? And it blows my mind. It makes no sense. Especially confusing is when this comes from people who I know largely do try to help others: what does that mean to you if you don’t think that’s actually a moral imperative? In some ways, it doesn’t matter how someone feels about doing the right thing as long as they’re doing it. But on an interpersonal level, I find it baffling and heartbreaking. Why do we go to church if you don’t believe we’re supposed to love each other? What other common ground am I supposed to find with you? What’s supposed to be underneath all this church shit if not love? I mean I find the sentiment upsetting no matter who it’s coming from, there’s just something particularly jarring about hearing it from someone supposedly in a community with me that’s predicated on loving one another. Why are you here if you don’t believe that?? Anyway I know hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance are nothing new, but I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand how some people don’t see the necessity of caring for one another or feel the urge to care for one another.

*my faith is much more complicated than that, I’m just not gonna get into it on tumblr

[circumlocutive]

God the stories the Iranian post doc just told me. First time he saw lesbians kissing he didn't understand why it was happening bc he didn't have a model of homosexuality in his culture except as a disease. And earnestly was like hey, why are you ladies doing that. You're not able to have sex or have a kid? And he's so lucky they were friends of friends and willing to educate him 💀 he's also misunderstood a different lesbian who deflected his inquiry about meeting up again with "but I have a girlfriend"; he thought she meant she had a female friend hanging out with her that needed to come along and was like "that's ok, I'm trying to be your boyfriend" and was even more confused when she was like "I'm engaged to this woman" bc he couldnt grok marriage without ability to spawn kids (tho he now gets that's not the point anymore).

Also. He was being hit on aggressively at the DMV by a woman who walked up to him in line and said she wanted to have sex with him and that sex was a high art form for her. She showed his sheltered autistic ass a bunch of pics of naked men then asked to meet up sometime. The postdoc was like alright yay a woman is interested in me! But when he hugged her goodbye he felt her bulge press on him and he was so baffled he just GRABBED IT AND SAID "WHATS THIS" WITH GENUINE CONFUSION BC HE HAD NEVER HEARD OF OR MET A TRANS PERSON BEFORE AND SHE SAID "DONT WORRY ABOUT IT I JUST WANT YOU TO HAVE SEX WITH MY ASS" AND HE WAS LIKE "do you have a condition ??" And she again was like don't worry about it!!! And then he got called to the DMV window so that was that. He just got to reel with the understanding that being trans is a thing that can happen

He told me all while we were working in the secluded microscopy room and was so genuinely trying not to be homophobic or transphobic but still express how much culture shock it was for him. I almost started blowing his mind again talking about nonmonogamy but we got pulled for lunch LMAO

[blasphemousgoggles]

Miasma

Written for a friend, I suck at this game.

Warning: Gore, Threats of Violence (Nothing too bad though)

“Is something wrong?” One of the others asked. You and the remainder of people look over to Enki. He seems lost in thought, staring deeply into the Miasma sword.

“I haven’t witnessed anything like this before…” You begin to feel a growing sense of dread. Going through this hellish dungeon has caused your nerves to be shot, every sound and step you take sends tremors through your whole body. Most things in this decrepit dungeons have tried to kill you, everything in this place was beyond anything you believed was possible. Stopping now could be the death of you.

“Blood? …blood…blood. Yes.” Enki murmurs to himself.

“We need to keep up the pace.” You don’t want to stall any further. All you want is to get out of this place as soon as possible.

“No… There are more urgent matters…” He doesn’t even look over at you.

“What are you saying…?” He talks slowly. Exasperated, someone asks “What are you talking about?” It seems like the others are getting more paranoid. Finally, he looks over at you and the others.

“The blade…It wants sacrifices… Right now.” The hairs on your neck stand. 

“Guys, maybe we should go.” If the man has gone insane you are not waiting around to find out. While you would feel bad leaving him, it seems that he doesn’t care for what any of you have to say now.

“Oh do not worry. I have no emotions toward most of my companions. They can be your cattle. Sacrificial lambs.” It's too late to leave now, he begins to swing.

Now most of your companions lay dead, deep gashes are carved into their bodies, blood still gushing from their wounds. At least one person managed to run away, however sadly for you the dark priest gaunt form looms over you. is gripping your arm tightly. Despite him being weak he managed to overpower the others and you due to you all being malnourished and already injured from the previous fight with the Crow. It's truly a bit embarrassing that someone with such brittle bones was able to quickly massacre the lot of you.

He stands still clasping at your arm still, while coated in blood he continues to stare dully at you.

You glare at Enki, if you were going to die by his hands you refuse to show any fear towards him.  Now you wait for the finishing blow.

“Let's go already.” He states blandly. You falter. That was not expected  After a moment of staring at eachother your glare melts into confusion and suspicion.

“Excuse me?” The priest has the absolute gall to roll his eyes at you like he didn’t just butcher both of you companions. “We should keep moving. We have been in here long enough.”

What is he saying? Seriously, who in their right mind would leave with this scum. Either way, why aren't you dead yet?. While you were still baffled, rage grew into you like a tumor. And you couldn’t help but state the obvious “You killed the others! Why the fuck would I want to leave with you!” You attempt to shake off his hand but he grips tighter. With how hard he's gripping you, you're pretty sure if he holds any harder his nails would enter your skin. 

Enki looks unamused. “The sword demanded blood so I gave it some. The others were never going to make it out of here anyway.”

“What do you know! You don’t have the right to play god and decide who lives and dies.” You break, you had grown attached to some of the others. You felt secure with the others, it felt safe with them. This dungeon has no mercy to outsiders, death was everywhere but with your companions all of you had lived longer than expected when you all walked in here. You were beginning to get borderline hysterical. “ Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done? If you so easily slaughtered the others, what's stopping you from doing the same to me?”

His nails were now lodged into your arm the priest looks annoyed now. He grits his teeth. “I do not feel bad. I held no emotion toward them.” His eyes bore into yours. “While you are weak from your injuries, if they were healed you would be more physically adept than I am.” He states plainly. “It would be easier to travel together than alone.”

You scoffed “I do not care if it's ‘easier’ I have no reason to go with-” his other hand that still held the blade moved over to your face. 

“If you insist on talking back to me I will cut your damn tongue off.”

He pressed the sword's point to your mouth, the fresh blood of the others dribbled slowly onto your face and rolled down to your chin, the smell of metal stung your nostrils. You clamp your mouth shut lest you get the abhorrent liquid in there.

“You may be more physically capable but with how dim witted you are, you would have no hope of leaving this place. You would die here.” Weirdly he smiles. “While it would be easier, if you are unwilling I would gladly cut off your limbs and drag you with me.” You pale. As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t leave. This hellish place is just too easy to get lost in. You had to stick with him unless you found another poor soul down here. While the person who ran away could be an option, there is little to no chance of finding them. Even in your dread you wonder, why is he so insistent on forcing you to follow him? And why did he have to threaten you twice.

“I simply want you with me.” His eyes twinkle like some shitty romance novel. It would be sweet if it wasn’t for the gore around you and the threat of removing your limbs. He removes the blade from your mouth.

“If you stay with me, I can ensure that you won’t die here.”

Enki looks through you. Hesitantly you nod. There was no other option for you.

“Good. Now let us leave already.”

You stand albeit shakily, he helps to support your weight from where he was still holding your arm. Finally, the dark priest withdraws his nails from within your arm. Red liquid oozes out. Despite that reprieve, you frown because now his haggard hands have moved to clasp your hands. You cast one more look at your comrades, then you leave with him.

[just-a-random-person24]

HERE TO ATTACK YOU WITH BARNEY'S MIND NOTES BOO!! (EP 1 PART 1+2, EP 2 PART 1+2, AMD EP 3!!)

Episode 1 (part 1)

• Hates the intercom for Black Mesa's transit system (calls it a computer) (you will see me mention things he hates *a lot*)

• says he needs a new job and thinks about being a radar operator, then days it would suck cause it's stuffy and you don't get chick's

• Late to work! Half Life protag curse

• you will also see me mention him getting side-tracked in what he says a lot

• Tells a scientist who can't hear him to make him a sandwich

• There's? an arcade??

• the dorms back in the barracks doesn't have a TV!

• thinks about bringing an Xbox to his dorm only to think that someone would steal it

• doesn't like being late *but* doesn't like getting up early

• says he'll point out lack of handrails anytime he sees it

• hates his job (L)

• wishes something interesting would happen

• mentions donuts only to get confused about why he's mentioning donuts

• cannot pronounce epileptic

• Black Mesa probably doesn't have a maintenance department

• unenthusiastic “weehee, fun fun.” followed by a deadpanned “I hate my job”

• wants Doritos only to settle for a Coke instead when there's no Doritos

• thinks Coke is better than Pepsi

• gets mad at a guard for not fixing the issue with the access panel, *only* to get mad when he's told to go fix an elevator cause it isn't his job

• says the helmet is too tight

• Lauren is a conspiracy theorist? Or at least sent books to Barney thinking he'd like them

• wants to break up with Lauren cause ‘long distance relationships don't work’

• leaves the air dryer running in the bathroom all day

Episode 1 (part 2)

• calls a scientist a bastard for getting mad about access issues

• hates elevator music, wishes it was techno or rock

• sees the video surveillance room is empty and says he should be the only one slacking off

• thinks the lady with the xen crystal (Gina? I think?? might be a totally different person) is hot and wants to get her number

• Gordon's ‘sup fool’ is audible!

• thinks Gordon's awesome

• is not paid enough to fix the elevator

• thinks the best perk of being a guard is shooting things, wishes he could shoot real things

• forgot he was told to go fix an elevator

Episode 2 (parts 1 + 2)

• Thinks soda is a good way to start the day

• thinks Pepsi and Dr Pepper sucks

• tries to tell a joke, gets brushed off

• gets very confused about a keyboard blowing up

• Says he's getting out of there to avoid taking the blame, only to run into management

• Mocks a scientist

• Hates maintenance accesses

• immediately gets distracted about the proper plurality of ‘access’ (it's accesses)

• thinks Black Mesa is going to get a lawsuit (or 12)

• fucks with an old computer. Stops thinking it would blow up or play Tetris

• thinks he knows G-man, gets confused about the tram working even though it shouldn't

• hates stairs

• threw his Coke can down a bottomless pit

• agrees the day *is* miserable

• baffled about the scientist never pushing the buttons before assuming it's broken

• “You shouldn't dabble in who-knows-what. It's sticky.” ???

• the actual episode's only 3:40. Rest of it is just credits

Episode 3

• This episode wasn't remastered like eps 1 and 2 were

• got knocked out from the elevator crash

• assumes one of the houndeyes aye a dead guards gun

• kills the houndeyes and goes ‘yarg’ right after

• Tells dead houndeyes to not go all Resident Evil and come back to life

• says he needs a new gun cause the pistol is not strong enough

• assumes they lose tons of things because none of the boxes have labels

• going to go back to Black Mesa to sell some of the stuff he finds when he gets out

• no emergency lights

• going to file lawsuits against Black Mesa

• headcrab guts taste like vinegar mixed with bacon. good to know?

• hates ladders

• says he needs coffee or red bull to focus

• “Caution! No handrails! Caution! You're a moron!”

• thinks pirates are cooler than ninjas

• says Vortigaunt electricity is like getting shocked with a dog collar or a taser

• Damn counter: 8

[mknight0000]

Cross-Dimensional Answers Prologue-Ch 2 (Last Legacy)

A/N: HOLY HELL IT IS FINALLY HAPPENING. I really do apologize for waiting over a year to finally post this. I don't really want to go into it, but it is finally happening. Anyways below are the proper credits and I hope you enjoy it.

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

Word Count: 2,368

Warnings: Swearing, Potentail poor grammar

Creators: Dev (creator and writer), Ciel (sprites, cgs, illustrations), Hika (bgs, illustrations, gfx), Lulu (writer), and Grace (writer) 

-Carrd Link

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

When I wake, a coughing fit rises within me. My lungs burn from the lack of air during the split second of paranormal emptiness. As my breathing becomes more steady, I am met with a cool breeze of earth and rain that flows through my partially undone ponytail. Despite the circumstances, my first thought is:

I feel like a mess.

I move from the ground, feeling the cobblestone-tile ground beneath my hands and knees, its smooth, but uneven texture set beneath me. I open my eyes to see endless firefly lights moving around me, the circles shining brightly. The whispered sound in my ears fades when another breeze blows past.

After letting my eyes adjust, I look around hoping to figure out what the hell happened. In front of me, I see a wide staircase leading up to a large, arched window. Crumpled stone walls surround me, exposing the open room to the forces of nature. I look past the walls into the…night sky?

Wait? What the hell? How is it already nighttime?

Still baffled by the sudden jump in time, I look upwards towards the sky to see clouds moving across the purple atmosphere, red-hued moonlight shining bright. As I glance around, I notice iron-chained chandeliers hanging from the parts of the room that still have a ceiling with faint light glowing from the lit candles.

Before I can take anything else in from the scene, a voice whispers close to me. It’s low and hoarse as if stricken by emotions of various kinds. 

“Five years I’ve dreamt of this day…When at last we would be reunited”

Whilst still on the ground, I look to see someone standing above me, looking straight at me. His wavy, dark brown hair blows against his tan skin, giving a clear view of his gray eyes, brimmed with tears. The stranger wears a dark brown, unbuttoned vest over what seems to be a white, peasant blouse paired with light brown trousers. A black, long, velvety overcoat, adorned with gold accents, is draped over his shoulder and a book is strapped by a belt to his thigh.

He looks slightly familiar. I think to myself, though confused about who this stranger is.

“Yet it seems neither fate nor the stars can keep us apart.” He continues, his breathing labored. 

The mysterious stranger approaches me, kneeling, taking my hands into his and interlocking them. My eyes widen slightly, thoughts of confusion still prominent in my mind. 

“I never stopped looking for you, I never gave up,” he says as he presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. 

My eyes widen even more as my face starts to warm, knowing very well that it is as red as a lowering sunset. Instead of the soft wind and his gentle murmurs, all I hear is my heartbeat, pulsing at a faster rate than before.

What in the depths of hell is going on?????!!!!!!!!!

“Oh! How I missed you!” he says with his lips quirking into a slanted grin, pulling me into a tight embrace. 

“What–Oh!” I exclaimed at the sudden action. 

I can feel his body shaking as I hear slight, silent sobs coming from the strange man. To comfort him, I pat his back lightly, but awkwardly, out of both confusion

and slight concern. In normal circumstances, I would’ve thrown this him off of me, but I can’t help but note the tone of great loss in his voice, leading my heart to pull just a little under the weight of the few words he has said to me. Though he is still sobbing, I decided now is the best time to intervene. 

“Um, I think there has been a mistake,” I say genuinely whilst also feeling him stiffen up as the words leave my mouth, “My name is Megan. I think I may have been teleported here with this staff thingy to wherever this is–honestly, I don’t know, just uuuuhhhhhh….who are you?” 

His face moves quickly, positioning himself in front of me. His slate gray eyes, rimmed with tears, widen, snapping to meet mine, and his brow jumps in shock at my statement.

“You-you're not Rime?” he asks, horror and desperation clear in his voice. 

I shake my head back and forth. After his realization sets in, he leans away from me, his face reddened in embarrassment. He buries his face in his hands, staying in that position for a while with his shoulders trembling with each breath he takes. 

At this point, I do not know what to do except sit there, resting on my knees, and stare at him in unrelenting confusion and worry, though, for some reason, not for myself.

….Should I say something?

As I open my mouth, about to attempt to comfort him, he groans, lifts his head out of his hands, and starts whipping the tears from his face. 

“Bloody hells,” he croaks. 

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he responds, “Now, what manner of void fiend are you then? Lich? Revenant? Behold with surplus eyes?”

Manner of void fiend? What is he talking about?

My forehead scrunches in confusion as I try to offer up an answer to his strange question.

“I’m a barista…if that’s what you’re asking.”

As soon as I answer, a flash of frustration passes his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he softly mutters to himself under his breath, his head slightly bent down. 

After about a minute, he looks back up at me. He’s no longer crying but I can tell he’s just…tired.  “It seems I’ve made a grave mistake,” he states, “Very well. Allow me to introduce myself.”

He shifts a bit further from me and stands. Before he continues, he offers his hand to me to help me stand up. I thank him as I grab it and get to my feet, though my legs wobble the tiniest bit when I initially stand. As I look back at him, he tucks the hand he offered to me behind his back, and bows deeply with a dramatic, noticeably practiced, flourish. 

“My name is Fleix Iskandar Escellun. House unaffiliated. Necromancer,” he declared as he finished his bow. 

My eyes widen at the mention of his last name. “Escellun? Like Magister Escell?!” I ask in bewilderment.

I can tell that my acknowledgment of his last name soured his mood slightly. His face darkens, and as soon as it does. I can see it. That salty glare that Felix is giving me is just like Escell’s! 

He looks off to the side and grumbles at me. “Tch, he hasn’t been called ‘Magister’ since before i was born.” 

“Wait, is he your father?” 

He stays silent for a moment, looking me up in down. He’s clearly sizing me up. 

“Yes, he is,” a hint of disdain in his voice, but then he looks back at me questionally. “How do you even know that name, barista?” he asks, “You are very clearly not from Astraea.”

My heart stops for a split second once the name of the magical land falls from his lips. I had to have imagined he said that.

“Astraea?” I softly ask him, because there is no way I am currently in the land I have spent countless hours in on a computer screen.

No way…If I am in Astraea, then that means that I have somehow been transported to the world of Last Legacy.

I honestly do not know how to react. I should be ecstatically jumping in the air, at least that would be the reaction of any superfan, but I’m not. Instead, my hands are clammy and my breath starts to falter. My heart is beating faster and everything around me starts to become slightly muffled. 

I cannot be in a different world. I just can’t. This is some sick joke…or maybe I’m just dead?

I gather up my courage and ask, “Is this the afterlife? Am I dead? Why does heaven, or wherever I am, look like a video game?”

Felix looks back at me in slight shock and amusement in response to my question. “Is this cesspool truly how you imagined heaven? Mildew, rubble, me–utterly humiliated,” he humors but his lips turn into a smirk saying, “Although, I suppose I should be flattered you discerned anything divine about me.”

His voice is laced with complete sarcasm, except I catch him shyly lowering his eyes. 

Still confused with this whole situation, I ask, “So are you saying this is more like limbo or hell?”

He turns slightly to the side, gets out his glasses, opens a strange book, and starts reading it. There is no way this book is new. Its frayed, maroon cloth cover is embossed with strange markings and a skull at the center. It’s worn with sand-colored pages that look like they’d crumble with one touch. It’s definitely not something you would find at your average book store. 

“Please. If this were a hell there’d be a great deal more fire and at least twice as many rats,” he answers. 

“Now, I must have mixed up my tals and pals when inscribing the spell circle…” he trails off muttering under his breath whilst flipping through the musty, old tome. 

“So to be sure, I’m not dead?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.

He looks up from the pages, his gray eyes looking straight into mine. I just can’t stop thinking about the similarities between him and his father. I can’t help to feel a tad bit intimidated by the glare. 

He responds to my question, saying, “Sleep, and death, and the void all share their similarities, but you are very much alive.”

“How poetic,” I respond as I look around my surroundings, still baffled at the jump in time. 

He smirks at my retort, “Take it from someone who has died once or twice before.”

My head turns suddenly in his direction out of shock, my eyes widening. 

My reaction makes him chuckle, but he returns back to his book reading what looks to be incomprehensible scribbles. I take this moment to try to calm myself down. 

Okay Megan. Remember those breathing techniques Sarah recommended. Breathe in for five seconds, out for five more. In for five, out for five. In…and out…In…and out…

After a few more rounds, my heart calms, and my breathing evens out. 

I may still be in a world full of wizards and mercenaries, but at least I am now calm…for now.  Now, to find a way back to the convention center.

“So Felix, if you brought me here, does that mean you can send me home as well?”

“Oh I can definitely send you back”

I release a sigh of relief, and a smile overcomes my lips.

“Wonderful! Now how-” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Well probably.” 

My face drops with disappointment.

“Probably? What do you mean probably? I can’t stay here!” I respond, my voice slowly climbing with anger. 

“Well first I need the Astrolabe–” he responds but cuts himself off quickly, “er, that ‘staff-thingy’ you mentioned earlier.

“That’s it? That’s all you need?” I ask, hopefulness laced in between my words, “Then you can return me home?”

“Perhaps. Now, where is it?” he questions, looking around for the Astrolabe. 

I shoot Felix an unknowing look.

“Oh well…um... “ I start, “When I went to pick it up it started glowing, but disappeared right after I touched it…so it may be somewhere around here.”

The color drains from his face at my response. Despite his face seeming still, his eyes fill with anger. He opens his mouth to speak, as if he's about to rip me a new one, but catches himself before speaking. 

“Ah. Well…that complicates things,” he states as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What do you mean, ‘complicates things?” I werrily ask. The wind blows my partially undone ponytail, causing a chill to run down my spine, uneasiness filling my stomach. 

Felix whips his head around, facing the door.

“I’ll explain after we’ve shed those pesky guards,” he responds hastily. 

“What guar–” I start, but a loud bang interrupts me, causing me to jump.

I look over at the nearby chestnut-hued door as it buckles violently. The only thing holding it together is a few rusty, wobbling bolts. 

“Damn it all. My summoning may have drawn some unwanted attention–Oh and did I mention we may be trespassing?”

I shoot him a glare, “Maybe you could’ve brought that up earlier!”

Felix merely looks at me and takes a deep breath, before making an arc gracefully in the air with his right hand. Seemingly, out of nothing, a black oval appears in midair. Though ripples emerge from the inky black center, there is a faint, but unclear, image that lies within. 

“Hie thee through the portal,” he quickly remarks, making a shooing motion toward the obsidian entrance. 

I stare back at him incredulously, “You want me to get into that? Where does it even go?”

Suddenly, the rickety door splinters and bows as it continuously keeps getting bashed in. One of the rusty bolts springs free, following onto the stone floor. I am fully aware my options are very small at the moment, but I don’t know how much I can trust this man.

“Somewhere safe,” he responds, “Or rather, to someone safe. Now, I’d appreciate it if you hurried. Holding this open is harder than it looks.”

Though every bone in my body is saying to run, there’s something in his voice that seems trusting and if I don’t listen, I may be in more trouble than I can handle. 

As I take a step forward, Felix holds a hand out. My black backpack dangles from his hand by its strap. My heart lifts a bit at the sight. 

Felix can see my apprehension when he states, “Fear not, barista. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

The guards had persevered in their efforts to break down the door, seeing seconds after Felix’s statement, a group of armored individuals bust into the room with a loud crash. There was no hesitation as I hurled my body into the dark portal, plunging into the unknown darkness. 

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Cannot wait to start the next part....Anisa my darling.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Abbey Grange pt 2

So, last time we had a woman who claimed to have been assaulted by burglars who then murdered her abusive husband and her stoic and devoted maid.

I think that she killed him and used the burglars, who had apparently been in the newspaper, as convenient scapegoats, but I also think that was a good move on her part, so I'm fingers crossed that she gets away with it.

And Holmes spotted something weird with the glasses the 'burglars' had been drinking out of, then immediately dismissed it and left Stanley Hopkins, who seems to work purely on cases where the victim is an old and violent man who nobody likes, to hunt down the burglars.

During our return journey I could see by Holmes's face that he was much puzzled by something which he had observed.

I may have been wrong about Holmes realising it was the lady of the house. This does seem at odds with that.

"...on my life, Watson, I simply can't leave that case in this condition. Every instinct that I possess cries out against it. It's wrong—it's all wrong—I'll swear that it's wrong. And yet the lady's story was complete, the maid's corroboration was sufficient, the detail was fairly exact."

Right, so no, he hadn't figured it out. The wine glasses do still vex him.

"...dismiss from your mind the idea that anything which the maid or her mistress may have said must necessarily be true."

That is, indeed, how you should approach every witness statement to every crime ever. Like, even if they're not lying, they might just be confused. The woman had a blow to the head (apparently) that discombobulates a person.

"Some account of them and of their appearance was in the papers, and would naturally occur to anyone who wished to invent a story in which imaginary robbers should play a part."

Precisely.

And my theory with the glasses is that she and her husband were having a drink. Or just her husband was having a drink. And she had to add a third glass to corroborate her story and that didn't match or hadn't been drunk out of. Maybe she drugged him so she could kill him, but that doesn't really fit with the way the body was found.

"The most unusual thing of all, as it seems to me, is that the lady should be tied to the chair.”

Really, Watson? Why?

I mean... that seems fairly self-explanatory to me. Is it just because you could never consider tying a lady to a chair, in which case, I guess we know more about your sex life than we did, but really?

Watson is baffling me here.

“Exactly; but there was bees-wing only in one glass. You must have noticed that fact. What does that suggest to your mind?”

wtf is beeswing?

beeswing. / (ˈbiːzˌwɪŋ) / noun. a light filmy crust of tartar that forms in port and some other wines after long keeping in the bottle.

(from dictionary.com)

Okay. I remember being told off for shaking a port bottle as a kid, so I guess that was what I was being told off about.

“That only two glasses were used, and that the dregs of both were poured into a third glass, so as to give the false impression that three people had been here. In that way all the bees-wing would be in the last glass, would it not?"

Three things:

That's what I said.

Would none of the beeswing stick to the glasses it came from?

Why not just pour some more from the wine bottle? It has been specified that it wasn't empty.

Sherlock Holmes, finding that Stanley Hopkins had gone off to report to head-quarters, took possession of the dining-room, locked the door upon the inside, and devoted himself for two hours to one of those minute and laborious investigations which formed the solid basis on which his brilliant edifices of deduction were reared.

He was crawling around on the floor like a worm again, wasn't he?

Then, to my astonishment, Holmes climbed up on to the massive mantelpiece.

Crawling and climbing. It's like a crime scene adventure playground. He must be having so much enrichment today.

“We have got our case—one of the most remarkable in our collection. But, dear me, how slow-witted I have been, and how nearly I have committed the blunder of my lifetime!"

Or maybe you could just... let her get away with it?

"Strong as a lion—witness the blow that bent that poker. Six foot three in height, active as a squirrel, dexterous with his fingers; finally, remarkably quick-witted, for this whole ingenious story is of his concoction."

Was the lady's height specified? I feel like if she was 6'3" someone would have mentioned it.

So she got a friend to come and help her kill her husband? Good for him, too, I guess.

THough she was sitting down through the whole interview, so maybe she is 6'3" and it's just that no one noticed because she was sitting down.

“Yes, sir, it is true that he threw the decanter at me. I heard him call my mistress a name, and I told him that he would not dare to speak so if her brother had been there."

Ah, there we are. The missing piece is a brother. That makes sense.

“I have told you all I know.” Holmes took his hat and shrugged his shoulders. “I am sorry,” he said, and without another word we left the room and the house.

Ah, I think that, right there... was the point of no return. If you'd just told him, he probably wouldn't have done anything about it.

But now he's gonna do something about it.

The first officer, Mr. Jack Croker, had been made a captain and was to take charge of their new ship, the Bass Rock, sailing in two days' time from Southampton.

Not the brother? A friend from the ship? Modern travel times have made me forget that the time since the marriage probably isn't long enough for a message to get to Australia, let alone for her brother to receive one then get on a boat and come to the UK.

Unless he was already following her before that.

“No, I couldn't do it, Watson,” said he, as we re-entered our room. “Once that warrant was made out nothing on earth would save him. Once or twice in my career I feel that I have done more real harm by my discovery of the criminal than ever he had done by his crime."

Aw, Holmes, you're a big teddy bear really.

“I am very glad if I have helped you.” “But you haven't helped me. You have made the affair far more difficult."

Yeah, he knows.

"The Randall gang were arrested in New York this morning.” “Dear me, Hopkins! That is certainly rather against your theory that they committed a murder in Kent last night.”

This entire conversation is gold.

“The time has come. You will now be present at the last scene of a remarkable little drama.”

Cliffhanger time.

[pure-garbage]

Secret Arsenal! Prepare For The Worst

The straw hat's shipwright was never hard to find. Franky's workshop was consistently the noisiest place aboard the Thousand Sunny. Lana approached it with trepidation. Lately, she'd been thinking a lot about the ply of the trade she was notorious for. Lockbreaking had become a mantle synonymous with the rest of her name, and after the mess she'd been a part of at Enies Lobby, her bounty was steadily rising.

The entire world knew Lana as a woman who carried lockpicking pins on her person, and the fact that this was so well known was starting to make her a touch paranoid. She had an idea that save her from ever having all her pins confiscated again if anyone managed to capture her. The seed had been planted at the marine base G-8, but for a long time, she'd assumed her ambition was unattainable.

At least, she had asssumed so until she met cyborg Franky.

A knock wouldn't cut it. The din coming from inside Franky's workshop would drown it out completely.

"Shipwright!"

Lana announced herself with a shout as she pushed the door open, but the banging, grinding and clanging were too overwhelming for her to make herself heard. She huffed in annoyance and clasped her hands.

"Calm-calm library Feng-sui!"

The room went completely silent, only Franky's humming remaining. He stopped, confused until he noticed Lana.

"Hey! Quiet lady! I see you're not shy about letting yourself in," he grinned. "Not that I mind, visitors are always super! What brings you down here?"

"I have a project I was hoping you could help me with," Lana informed him, cutting right to the chase.

"Neat-o! If you can dream it, I can build it! You came to the right guy. So, you draw up any blueprints yet?"

"Not exactly. It's not really something I need built... more like an augmentation I'd like you to make," Lana explained. "If you can, of course."

"If I can? Sister, you must not know who you're talking to," Franky grinned, pushing his glasses up. "Tell me about your idea and I'll get to work."

"Alright. So what I'm thinking is this..."

_______________________________________

Zoro was puzzled when he saw the bandages covering Lana's left arm.

"Cut yourself training?" he asked. It wasn't like her to be so careless.

"Nah, I had some work done!" Lana grinned enthusiastically. Zoro's hackles were immediately raised.

"Work? What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

"You'll see when it heals," she promised with a coy smile.

It took a week for Lana to remove the bandages. A few times, Zoro was tempted to sneak a peek while she was asleep, but with absolutely no idea what he might see, he decided to play it safe so as not to disrupt whatever healing process was playing out beneath the gauze.

"You ready to see?" Lana teased when the day came at last.

He looked up from the task at hand, the careful cleaning of the black blade he'd acquired on Thriller Bark.

"Oh boy," he sighed. "Alright, lay it on me."

"Here goes... ta-da!"

Lana let the wrappings fall away, revealing...

"Oh. It's... a tattoo?" Zoro realized, cocking his head to the side. The choice was baffling to him on so many levels. The design was simple, a black dagger, the blade of which pointed to her wrist.

'She never mentioned wanting a tattoo. Why a knife? She doesn't feel that strongly about them, does she? Why all the suspense? Did she think I would be excited over this? Oh no, should I be acting excited? Did I already blow this big reveal by not acting excited? I don't want to get into another fight with her.'

"The tattoo is just camouflage," Lana explained. "Hiding... this!"

She curled her fingers, pressing her index and middle to the base of her palm. Zoro's jaw dropped and his eyes popped out of his skull as the blade of the knife tattoo flipped open, revealing a slim compartment hidden within the flesh of Lana's arm. Inside, an assortment of lockpicking pins lay in wait.

"My secret lock breaking arsenal! It's important that you keep it a secret though... you, me and Franky are the only ones who know about it and it needs to stay that way. If the world finds out about it, it won't be of any use to me."

Zoro gaped as Lana spoke, fighting to restrain his horror at the development. The change struck him as drastic and invasive, but even so...

"So? Whaddya think?"

Lana's smile was filled with bright expectations.

'She's mine, but that does't make it my place to dictate how she shapes herself,' Zoro thought, beginning to recover from his shock. 'I own her heart, not her flesh.'

If Lana could accept him, scars, rough edges and all, he owed her the same in return. Zoro fixed on a smile for her sake.

"If you're happy with it, it's incredible," he sighed. He reached out and closed the compartment gently, running his fingers over the tattoo, feeling for seams on her skin.

"It's completely imperceptible," Lana assured him. "Franky did a really excellent job."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah."

"Was it really painful? While he was working on it."

"He put me under. I didn't feel a thing 'til I came to."

"Can you... feel me? Touching you."

"Sort of. I feel pressure."

"Huh. You got... any more work you want him to do?" Zoro asked, carefully restraining the resentment threatening to seep into his tone.

"Nah, this is the end of my creativity," Lana admitted.

Zoro couldn't hold back a sigh of relief.

____________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[lavenderjewels]

Spoilers and thoughts for JJK 232

Throwing all my thoughts here (for the fan translation).

The chapter was fight heavy, so nothing too mind blowing or game changing yet. It feels like a transition into another element of the fight, with Mahoraga officially adapting to Gojo and Sukuna momentarily knocked out by Gojo’s black flash JJK 0 Geto style.

The fighting looked great!! Gojo’s expressions with his huge blue eyes and smile, and the use of his techniques after seeing them in the anime was fun. Not much else to say on that but more of a cool shonen fight. Lots of orbs!

Yuuji questioning how much longer it’ll be until Mahoraga adapts because we don’t know if it’s through time increments or experience, then Kashimo replying with “who gives a shit, it doesn’t matter” was the best possible response. At least he’s enjoying the fight!

Look okay I know nearly every corner of the internet with JJK fans is mocking Sukuna for taking hit after hit and using Mahoraga, but I don’t think it’s actually that severe. The atmosphere for this fight is fairly light still and they’re both having fun being able to go at each other. If Sukuna was using all his powers at his disposal, I’d be harsher, but they’re like children at a playground. As for using Megumi’s technique, I honestly have no idea what his end goals are for possessing Megumi in particular, but why not use Mahoraga if it successfully ended a six eyes user in the past.

Anyways the Sukuna stuff seems to mostly be jokes, but it doesn’t devalue him for me, mostly since I guessed they’d be close to equals from how they’ve both been built up. The fight is uncannily close to Hakari and Kashimo’s, down to Kashimo (Sukuna in this case) having powers theyre refraining to use.

We still don’t know anything about Sukuna’s fire powers that were “opened” in Shibuya that cursed spirits wouldn’t know about, Yorozu’s last gift to him, where the last finger is, or his actual agenda. The agenda part could be debated to just want to rule as the king of curses in a new era of sorcery, but his reasoning behind possessing megumi and staying in the body is vague enough that I’m expecting more. I want his original form back, but I might be unreasonably hopeful.

There’s no way Gojo can keep evading constant near death experiences, but I don’t think this cliffhanger ending is actually his end. At least not yet. But it’ll hopefully change up the fight to be more dire and unpredictable.

I can’t really see Gojo dying either until something severe happens to Sukuna. If he died and Sukuna could carry on as usual, there’d be nothing anyone could do. And if the team right now watching DID have something that could stop Sukuna, they’d be in the fight already to help Gojo.

This fight’s been surprising in that the main group watching keeps acting like their plan is just “let gojo fight and see what happens I guess”. I need more answers to what they were doing over the time skip or anything about backup plans if Gojo dies. This is me basically saying I still think there’s an overall plan in mind they’re sticking to, and that it probably is about saving Megumi. But we’ll see what unfolds. The mysteries of this manga are at an all time high.

The only thing that baffles me is why not a single person is concerned about Kenjaku. The Culling Games is still in progress and Kenjaku can do the merge whenever it’s ready—which is probably this same day since they agreed on this date for a fight. Despite my intense confusion over this, I’m waiting for the fight to play out more.

I miss Kenjaku