#anyways I was trying to service bottom and she was a service top which was really silly looking back on it

[testojunkie-online]

found out today that a girl I hooked up with a couple years ago has a photo of her pissing in an alley on her hinge profile, which confirms once again that she’s one of thee coolest people I’ve ever met in my life

[bellaveux]

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

[drkmgs]

Assistant | NSFW

pairings: Cate Blanchett x Fem!Reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

Warning: NSFW, +18, top/bottom, AGE GAP, language, teasing, cunnilingus, just spicy sapphic

request: power bottom Cate x top service Reader

story type: One shot

Hi, Hello. Sorry for not posting any stories. I have been busy... I hope to make it up to you guys with this one... Please forgive me if it's not good, I have never written NSFW before, and I absolutely have no idea how I managed to finish this...

Also, belated happy birthday to this gorgeous woman...

A lot of people would kill for your spot in Cate Blanchett's life right now. You are just her assistant and public love interest. How did that happen? You don't even know. You were just desperate to have a job to be able to move out of your parents' house, and your loving best friend Rohan informed you about how the very famous oscar winning Cate Blanchett is looking for an assistant.

You had no idea what a fucking assistants do. You were on more the creative side of the industry—you love photography and filming, which is also one of the reasons why you need a job—to support this dream. There are a lot of benefits for being Cate Blanchett's assistant—one of those were—you get to see the behind the scenes of every photoshoot of hers.

BUT. You didn't expect people to ship you and your boss. Don't get me wrong, Cate is a wonderful woman, damn she's your dream woman. You wouldn't want her to get criticized for being with a woman half of her age, so you vowed to yourself to keep everything at a professional level and won't let your feelings control you.

Anyway, you just arrived home after Cate's very busy schedule, and all you want to do is lay down and watch anything you could find on Netflix. You quickly changed into an oversized white shirt and black cycling shorts. Then, you made your way to your kitchen and tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave.

With a satisfied exhale, your eyes immediately drawn to the welcoming sight of your couch nestled in the center of your living room. It seemed to call out to you, promising a haven of comfort. You sank into the couch, feeling the plush cushions envelop your tired body.

Once you were satisfied with your position, you reached for the remote control and turned the TV on to Netflix. You were scrolling through the options and stumbled upon Ocean's 8, which you had already watched more than 10 times. Without thinking, you let it play. There was a little ding in the background indicating that your popcorn is ready. You were about to get it, but your doorbell rang. So, you turned down the volume of your TV and made your way to the door.

"Miss Cate?" The surprise ran throughout your body. You cracked the door wider as soon as you realized it was your boss standing outside.

"Hi. I know this is unexpected, but I just need someone to talk to. The girls are busy, and you were the last one on my list." You could feel in your own skin how nervous she is, so you stepped aside and let her in. You closed the door. You let her roam around your living room, probably gathering strength to start a conversation about whatever made her so uncomfortable.

You excuse yourself for a minute to get a glass of water and your popcorn from the microwave. As soon as you came back, you handed her the water, and you placed the popcorn on the coffee table. You watch her gulped down that fresh water. She was so nervous that water spilled from the corner of her lips. Mindlessly, you reached out to wipe it away. It was already too late when you realized what you have done.

Silence filled the room. Cate doesn't know what she should do. She has been trying to stop these feelings for you, but it seems nothing helps. Now, being alone with you in this tension, she doesn't know if she should just let the scene play out.

You were still frozen in your position when you suddenly felt something warm and soft on your lips. You sighed in relaxation as if a big chunk of rocks had been lifted up from your shoulders. You reached behind her neck to deepen the kiss. Cate let out a little whiper at your action and pulled even you closer. The movie playing in the background was forgotten. You gently pushed her back to the couch, guiding her to lay down without breaking the kiss. You settled your thigh between her legs, putting pressure on her private area, which cause Cate to gasped and broke the kiss.

Cate leaned on your forehead, panting. She was still breathing heavily when you said something under your breath. "That was a mistake." But your hands keep roaming around her body. She shook her head and swallowed. "Shut up and kiss me again." You comply with a lot more passion than before. Your hand found its way under her shirt and up to her breasts.

Your thumb gently hovered over her hard nipple which was still covered with her bra. More sexual noises were coming out of Cate's mouth. You felt her hips rock against your thigh, and her hands were playing with the hem of your white shirt. You left her mouth to leave kisses on her jaw down to her neck while flicking her hard nipple now and then. "Take your shirt off," Cate managed to say and had her hands on your hips. You stopped, leaned back, took your shirt over your head, and let it fall on the floor.

Cate ran her eyes all over you, drinking in at what a goddess of a body you have. Then, a tattoo on your upper left arm—an arrow with smoking roses—caught her attention. She ran her finger over it, which caused you to bite your lower lip. Cate diverted her gaze back up to your eyes. "I want you to fuck me." her voice was husky and full of desire that made your core ache. With that, both of you didn't miss a beat to take off all of your clothes.

As soon as the last piece of garment fell on the floor, there was no way to stop both of you now. Panting, Whining, and Gasping like two horny teenagers having sex on the couch for the first time. "I need your fingers inside me," Cate moaned as you nipped at her neck and squeezed her bob. You hummed in response, hand already traveling down to her aching pussy.

Your middle finger slid down her slit, gathering a decent amount of her pussy juice, and rubbed her sensitive bud clockwise, which you earned a pornographic noise from Cate. It didn't stop there, Cate's hips began to move with your finger. "Fuck, Y/N. Put that finger inside me, now!" Cate moaned loudly when you followed her instructions. You felt her cunt clenched onto your finger. You slowly move your finger in 'come here' motion, and you add another finger as you move down to her clit.

One hard lick on her bud made her buck her hips, and a loud moan escaped her mouth again. You continued to do that assault until you felt her hand in your scalp, pushing your head onto her wet pussy. Cate is squirming and gasping under you as you eat her out perfectly. One last hard suck on her bud, and she fell apart under you.

Cate's legs were still shaking as you came up to level with her. "Hmm, even in sex you're bossy." You smiled your lips hovering hers. "Oh, darling. That's just for today." She still trying to come down from her high. "I don't mind following instructions as long as I can please you." And with that, you kissed her again.

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 12

And that's all she wrote friends! And how she wrote it was...weird? The show definitely pulled some punches at the end there, trying to thread a needle and ending instead in a kind of wishy-washy damp squib. The couples landed up right, but in the wrong way? Guu mai chorp. But these hoes still need their final sorting. Nick led the pack going into the finale, will he end up on top at the end? Only the mains this week in my final rankings, but first...

⭐A1. FUCKIN' MIX!

Then…can I be your friend too?

I'm sorry I can't hear y'all over my screams at the MESS Minx Mix looks set to cause. That man is too pretty to be allowed in public. I WANT IT JOJO, I WANT IT NOW!

🔻🔻🔻Z∞. Boeing (8)

I just happen to want something strong tonight.

In the end, Boeing is just a lonelyboy like all the rest of them, which is fine, but he also just...disappears after the Ray/Mew Voltron vanquishes him and he gets a consolation makeout from Boston, which is not. Anyway, Mond is a good actor, also he's hot and got to kiss a bunch of boys, so winning.

Top tier show sidepieces: Yo, Plug, Summer, Freddie Mercury 2, Sand's Mom, Ray's Dad, Daddy Dan, April, Mew's Moms (barely)

These characters were mostly on the side of the angels, and I thank them for their service.

Bottom bitches: Cheum, Atom, Gap

Yeah they apologised, but fuck em.

Onto our main six!

🔺1. Boston (2)

I'm friendless.

In the end, Boston's at the top of my mains pile, because MY MANS DESERVED BETTER. Not in terms of Nick, I think that actually ended the absolute best way: Boston made his case, Nick made his decision, and they parted more or less as friends (and I loved absolutely every conversation those two had in this episode). No I mean in terms of his shitty friends, especially MEW. Cheum at least apologised, even if perfunctorily, and he apologised for sleeping with Atom (yeah, he really shouldn't have done that). He and Ray let the water wash under their particular bridge, and seem set to be cool. They never really had much in the way of beef to be fair. But Mew...actually you know what, good. Some people you don't need to be friends with, especially people who are gonna judge you and try to make you feel shitty about yourself. The narrative leaves Boston literally alone at the end though, legit the last time we see him is sitting on the curb with tears in his eyes as Nick walks away. Thanks, I hate it. I hope New York is better to Boston, and I hope he continues to learn and grow and tackle those impulse control problems.

🔻2. Nick (1)

You should go back to living a fun and sassy life that you prefer instead of trying to please a daydreaming guy like me.

YOU COULD HAVE ACCEPTED THE GODDAMN PHOTO NICKYBOY. I mean I get why not, but justice for my mans. Anyway, Nick's legit my second fave main here, as he grapples with the in-your-face realities of Boston's separation of love and sex, and decides he can't handle it. And that's good, that he loves Boston enough not to judge him, and loves himself enough not to put himself through something he knows he doesn't want. Every single choice and every conversation these two have had since Nick apologised has been nothing less than stellar, and that's because Nick took accountability and chose honesty. Well done baby boy.

🔺3. Sand (5)

You're right. When I love someone, I become a dog. But at least my owner loves me.

Pathetic to the very end, consistency thy name is Sand. He could have at least thrown his bussy into that threesome, but nooooooo, he got jealous IN TWO DIRECTIONS AT ONCE 🤣. He's fine with both boys slangin the dick his way, but calls a halt when they leave him out? Sir that's when you stand back and admire. Sand's pick-me ass ain't never gonna be my absolute fave, but his self-awareness and humiliation kink work together to be kind of endearing in a guileless sort of way, and at least he's learned to take the money if he's going to accept the ownership. It's sweet in a weird kink way. Also, his and Nick's loser friendship pushes him several points higher up the scale. There's growth and acceptance there, and he's 21 so I'll let him have it.

🔺4. Ray (7)

You still love him so I dragged him here for you. But I wanted to join just a little.

Well when he's not drunk night and day Ray's still a rich asshole, but he's a ton more fun. I love that he knows the kids at community service don't like him🤣. I spot rehab therapy working on him a bit. That threesome set up was WILD, and I personally had a good time with it, but it's probably best that it led to talking rather than fucking. Ray's got a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG way to go, but at least he treats Boston like a human being (I AM SO BITTER AND I'M NOT GETTING OVER IT). He's never gonna clock Mew's shittiness (BITTERNESS ACCELERATING) but you win some, you lose some. By the way sir, don't listen to Sand, he absolutely will be your sugar baby if you beg a little.

🔻5. Top (4)

Because I have you, everything is fine.

Top's smugness was the single most genuine thing about him, so I actually quite enjoyed watching him be a smug motherfucker this ep as he gets everything he thinks he wants. You know what I enjoyed more though? Watching his soul leave his body when Minx!Mix walked into the hostel and laser-targeted Mew. Mew putting Top through hell is legit my favourite flavour of their weird little fucked up relationship, and I'm sorry I won't get to see Mew eventually fall for Mix (you KNOW he wants to top somebody, YOU KNOW IT) and Top cry about it while he screws a bellboy in a service closet.

🔹6. Mew (6)

Are you about to say "But you're my last, Mew"? If so, I'm going to go puke in the bathroom.

OK, that line was funny, but jeez what a prig. What a sanctimonious nag. What a judgy little hypocrite. In his own conception he 'won' but Mew's the biggest loser in my heart. No he didn't have to forgive Boston, but come on, he could've kept it cute OR kept it moving full speed instead of the fake nicey nicey only to stick the knife in after. It's good that he walks away from Boston in the end, because with friends like Mew you don't need enemies. He makes Ray worse. And he and Cheum form the feedback loop from hell. Bookie sold the fuck out of this character, I have nothing but praise for him, but Mew is the living worst. I won't mention the character he reminds me most of in all of fiction, but if you're a certain age and you think about it a little, you can probably guess.

[unvolver]

Hello tis I, returned from the land of the dead. I'm here for "service top john and power bottom paul."

I think you've hit on an important part of their dynamic here and it's one I try to reflect in my own McL fanfics. An interesting through-line in John's relationships is that he would start out aggressive but then become more at-ease around the other person and thus let his guard down more, which meant the other person started driving the relationship. He did this with Stuart, he was a bit of bully towards Stu but their friends/art school classmates remember Stuart bucking John up during art classes, teaching him to play with mediums (like throwing colored sand at canvases instead of trying to produce realistic paintings). John visibly relaxed around Stu and became close to him. There's many interesting parallels with Paul, because John's type is clearly dark haired slender artistic weirdos (Stu::Paul::Yoko). John initially starts out aggressive with them only to be intrigued by them and then dive into Their Relationship as his defining characteristic. Occasionally he'll reassert himself against them in some form of bullying to keep his ego strong (he did this with all 3 of them.) Stu's life was tragically cut short so we didn't get to see the next step but with Paul and Yoko, John eventually gave up his schedule and personal desires to be managed by them. Sgt Pepper::the Dakota Days. What's interesting about Stuart is that Stu eventually left John for Astrid so John didn't have room to get into this dynamic with him. Resulted in John leaving Hamburg in disgrace after Paul Pete & George were deported. John was left to his own devices and then decided to go forward with the Beatles, probably one of the few independent decisions he made under his own power.

Anyway this plays into the service top thing because John's belief appears to be that he's only as good as the person he's serving. There's almost a court dynamic to it, or at least the overly romantic interpretation of it that was common in the 19th century, you can see this reflected in its apex, "Ivanhoe" which was still widely read and appreciated in the 1950s. It's not on reading lists anymore but Bob Dylan read it growing up and I feel confident John did too.

I feel like the "service" thing is something John did, not just in sex, but in all of his romantic relationships. John was very self aware of his flaws and how reprehensible many of his actions were. I believe that John threw himself into these "service" roles in order to redeem himself in some way and because he elevated his partners above himself. This even applies to Cynthia; John had to beg her to take him back after he slammed her head into a wall and after that he let her drive the relationship. In her book "John" Cynthia confirmed something I suspected in that her later years with John were sexless. Combining this with Cyn rejecting hiring a nanny to look after Julian and her later remark that John found her "too mumsy" to get in bed with, I wonder now if Cynthia was like a lot of mothers in that she didn't really care for sex when she had a child to look after. John let this dynamic happen. Yeah he did have a lot of partners on tap but he could have asked more from her but didn't. He let her dictate the circumstances of their home life. Yoko similarly rejected John's advances late in their marriage and one account says that she regularly barricaded herself in her office to stay away from him, instead sending him to Chinatown for happy ending massages with women who didn't speak English and didn't recognize him. John also let Yoko do it.

There's a lot of "submission" there but John himself was not that much of a submissive person, no matter what he babbled about being "soft velvet." The qualities that matter are the ones that consistently rise to the top and John was consistently someone who took control of situations and was a natural leader who directed the flow of action and ideas.

So to me that indicates John's "service top" role is much less about a desire to be directed and much more about his personal redemption and John's ideas about what love means. John put his lovers above him because he liked venerating people. It's a very religious pose influenced by Christian ideas of hierarchy. John's mental image of Paul in particular held a lot of power over John. He seemed to have built Paul up into a quasi-religious personage in his own head. "I've seen religion from Peter to Paul" etc. It seems to me that a service top John is not necessarily looking for validation (tho I think there's that too, who doesn't want to receive a pat on the head from God?) but is performing an act of worship towards a higher being.

John often seems convinced that Paul is a lot more powerful than Paul actually is. If he's topping Paul then it's because Paul has directed him to do it, not just as a slutty power bottom, but because he is allowing John to venerate him in some way. Thus John's time with Paul was creatively and sexually fulfilling, in a dynamic John felt comfortable with that still allowed him to exercise his qualities as a leader and director during daytime activities.

In contrast Yoko deliberately stymied John's creative flow. Often fought with him in the studio and over camerawork, insulted him constantly and held him at bay by dangling sex in front of him as a carrot when according to Dakota memoirs she hated PIV and only had sex with John when she was trying for another baby.

Paul was many things to John but he didn't hold himself back creatively and I am one of those people who believes he did not hold himself back sexually either. I think John had a lot of sexual access to Paul and that this is one of the reasons why they lasted as long as they did. Defining himself by his relationship with Paul was John's road to redemption in his mind and luckily for him Paul loves being worshipped.

hello nonnie! you have given me a lot of fodder to work with here:

thank you complimenting my work and how i depict lenmac again, i think people either overplay or downplay john dominance or agression. it’s not black or white with him, he’s a multifaceted individual. i agree 100% with the idea of john being more aggressive at the start of his relationships and only allowing the other “control” as he became closer to them.

also the religious element to it! i was not raised christian and my only exposure were my classmates growing up as a buddhist. i’ve always been intrigued by (christian) religious symbolism and imagery. john’s idol worship of paul and their codependency really does give off that vibe, and the aforementioned court dynamic.

again, the parallels between their sexual relationship and songwriting partnership. maybe not parallels but directly intertwined. not much to say other than i agree here.

more thoughts in my answer to the paul ask!

[fbfh]

You were talking about Zoro and One Piece and fubgthvrxgjbthvty

I am Unwell™️

I don’t know if I think he has a loyalty kink or if I do but

His unending devotion?

His complete Ride Or Die mentality?

I am On My Knees begging to be on the receiving end of his love and attention

(He’s be into body worship and caretaking me thinks (I am projecting))

from the heart of my bottom thank you for this one anon. bc you are so fucking right. if anyone meets the criteria for loyalty kink???????? It's gonna be Zoro. you probably got tangled up together by accident or out of some kind of debt. he promised someone that he would grant you safe passage as you make your way from point a to point b, and somewhere along the way he finds that his debt and loyalty and service is no longer extended to you, it straight up belongs to you. it's basically royal x knight trope which i love with my whole ass bussy. Zoro can pick up a huge ass safe with minimal effort so you better believe he will just pick you up and put you somewhere else whenever he deems it necessary. or just when he feels like it. and he will not hesitate to just hoist you up and carry you over his shoulder for easy hassle free transportation. yk the scene in shrek where he's carrying fiona and she and donkey are having girl talk time when she finally stops trying to get shrek to put her down??? it's that. and you're explaining things like girl math to Luffy. he loves it. he only operates on girl math now. anyway yeah... Zoro is something. if you have a bad dream he seems like the type who would stay up and cuddle you till you feel better but nope. he stands guard in your room for the rest of the night. you wake up to go pee at 3am and he's still standing monitoring the entrances and exits. he follows you and waits outside the bathroom and makes sure you don't forget to wash your hands. if you ask all cute and sweet and sleepy he'll get you tucked back into bed but tbh it won't take that much convincing. you are so so right about body worship and caretaking, like I couldn't have pinned him down more accurately. you fuckin nailed it. ironically you won't have to beg on your knees for his attention because he is definitely already on his knees for you so uh. do with that what you will. but yeah I think the song do it for him from steven universe especially applies to people like Zoro. he will do anything and everything for you without breaking a sweat. and that's before he's even aware of how hard he's falling for you. GOD I love me a stoic service top.

[adachimoe]

Persona 4 Pachinko Hell

I have (finally) registered for Sega Sammy's 777 Town online service which lets you play from their catalog of digital pachislot and pachinko machines. Persona 4 is one of the available machines.

When you start the game, you can select a character to use as an avatar (there's the IT + human Teddie + Nanako to pick from), and that character will also become the machine's voice over.

Then you start "playing" and a billion silver balls rain down from the top and go into the holes on bottom. If a ball lands in the correct hole, then you get to spin the slot machine, which looks like this:

The objective, more or less, is to match 3 numbers on the slot machine, but the machine throws a billion animations, probability events, etc, that make it way less straightforward than playing a regular slot machine with reels. The blue Persona cards on the bottom of the screen here represent how many pulls I have at the slot machine.

Gasp there's even animations and character art of Funky Student and Ms Sofue:

The player randomly travels around the Inaba world map like in-game. These animations of the map and the protagonist walking around a location on the map play while you are rolling balls and collecting slot machine pulls:

When you're at the Dojima house, the slot changes to Nanako and she dresses up as everyone:

When you get 2 of the same number on the left / right reels, then the game enters "reach" mode, aka "Almost Jackpot" cause you're 1 number away from winning a jackpot:

And what happens then is an animation will play where the number you need is dangled in front of you and the RNG determines whether you get it or not. And of course, you never fucking get it because fuck this game!!!

Some of the events and animations that play when you hit the Almost Jackpot include:

The crossdressing contest where Yu winning = number you need and Teddie winning = wrong number.

A character fighting a Shadow where they use an attack to "fight" the number you don't need, then they usually fail to defeat the number cause yeah fuck RNG.

Kanji trying to knit a stuffed animal, and he botches it entirely so you get the wrong number.

Etc.

I triggered a "hidden" game mode twice, which led to Amenosagiri coming out and filling the town with fog:

During fog mode, the background changes to a remix of The Fog that goes pretty hard, and the slot reel characters change to everyone's Shadow (except Narukami; he just puts his glasses on cause lmao there's fog out).

ANYWAY, I met Adachi's NPC randomly at the Central Shopping District!

I've never played pachinko before but this game pisses me off because I very quickly understood that the unique animations and "everything is fully voice acted" is definitely part of the appeal (it works on me, I'm pathetic). Also I'm salty that there's a remix of The Fog is LOCKED TO A RANDOM PROBABILITY EVENT IN A FUCKING PACHINKO MACHINE SDJSDFJLSJKF.

If you'd like to see some clips of Adachi in pachinko, check out these videos on YouTube cause there's no fucking way in hell I am getting lucky enough to see either of these events lol.

[singlecrow]

Hello and happy saturday!! was wondering if there are any authors or particular books that have particularly influenced your writing??

What a lovely question! Hi! So there's this book called Voices, by Ursula Le Guin who is usually my favourite author, one of her later works and nominally YA. It's fantasy about a formerly thriving little nation state that's been invaded and systematically oppressed, and the main characters belong to the household of the man who was the elected leader of the nation in the old days. He was tortured; the family live hand to mouth. And then comes a time where, for the first time since the old days, they have real guests. And they don't have much to feed them, and their hospitality is so far from what it used to be, but everyone turns out and they clean the house from top to bottom. One of the kids asks why it matters, and gets schooled in short order about where their remaining dignity lies.

And, well, I can't see the book from where I'm sitting and I forget the line, but it's something like: this is what we mean about housework. If it isn't done honourably, then where is honour?

And I don't know if that book itself influenced me or Le Guin just codifies what I like to write about anyway, but that's my main theme and she's the author who gives it the most shape that I can think of. This idea that you really can peel potatoes to the glory of God, as the Jesuits say; that such work in the service of dignity and honour is as worthy as any great thing; and, in a way, that there are no great things, and that institutions, states, the non-corporeal structure of the world, is all cleaning the house before company comes. And I shouldn't think that, not really; I'm a constitutional lawyer and small strokes of the pen do influence seventy million people all at once if you do them right. But Le Guin, again, rebuts that by telling you that individuals matter ("The Ones Who Walk From Omelas" is the short story about that) regardless, because where else is the polity except in who and what it serves? I go back to Le Guin a lot on this; I'm trying to write something at the moment that is supposed to be a war story set in space, but turns out to be, as usual, some small things in a few people's lives that happen as a war rages around them, and why they keep on mattering as everything falls apart.

One of my other favourite authors is Natasha Pulley, and my favourite of her books (I love them all) is The Lost Future of Pepperharrow, which is a gaslamp fantasy set mostly in Japan, and it has lots of adventures and beautiful scenery and other fun stuff. But it's written in this devastatingly restrained style, which continuously reassures me that it's ok to write that way though obviously I don't do it as well as she does, and also, it comforts me that it's ok to write about grief. That melancholy and grief can basically be what you write about (if small things matter, small things destroy) even if a lot of people prefer romance and why shouldn't they in these terrible times. Thaniel, the main character, is a young gay civil servant, who knows in his heart if not his head that he's dying of tuberculosis. It's a queering of the consumptive Victorian girl trope, except Thaniel and Mori, his partner, are more immediately concerned about the imminent Offences Against the People Act that will criminalise male homosexuality. Exactly a hundred years later young gay men will die of AIDS-linked TB. It's a stunning book, never as popular as I think it should be, and I really aspire to writing one like it.

I hope that answered your question? idk! at least i hope it answered something.

[goosetheluce]

Headcanons for male reader x courtney after their time on the show it over?

yup!

Courtney x M!Reader: Post-TD

You convinced Courtney to take a gap year before university, since you both need a break from the psychopath of a showhost.

When she's stressed, she'll clean the whole apartment you rented from top to bottom even if she just cleaned yesterday.

She can't cook very well, so you're on kitchen duty. She loves that you can whip up a meal out of nothing.

Courtney is a restless sleeper. You jerk awake when you hear the thud of her falling out of bed, still asleep.

Dates are frequent, and Courtney likes going to the park for a picnic. One time, you took her to laser tag and she got both of you banned for throwing her gun at a kid who got her out she got a little too heated, so you stuck with simplicity from that point forward.

You help her study even if she isn't in school. You don't pronounce the words right when you quiz her, but she knows what you're trying to say anyway, which confuses you even more. Why is she studying when she already knows the answers?

When you ask to get a pet, she agrees. To your dismay, you came home one day to a goldfish.

"What? It's a pet!"

"I meant a dog, Court."

"Hell no. You're gonna have to move out if you want a dog. I'm not paying pet rent."

She's pretty much the man of the house, if you couldn't tell.

Once Courtney's gap year is up, she packs her stuff and moves on campus. She worked day and night to save up money for her first year.

You try to fit a visit in at least once every few weeks, but it's difficult working a steady job and driving out 5 hours to see her.

So breaks are much appreciated. She comes home for fall break, takes you to meet her family during Thanksgiving, and goes alone for half of Christmas break. When she gets back, you've made sure the apartment is decorated enough to win a competition. You also made sure to kick your new roommate out for a day or two, and deep clean the apartment because you slacked while she was gone.

She already looked more mature when she came back. Her hair was longer and in an updo most of the time, and her clothes were clearly coming from Ann Taylor instead of American Eagle. She even changed her lipstick to a darker color.

"You look great, Court."

"I know!"

Her love language is acts of service; she doesn't kiss you or hold you much, but she learned how to cook in her time at university and treats you. She doesn't buy you expensive watches or shoes, but she notices when you're out of your favorite conditioner and picks it up on her way home.

She loves watching ice hockey and basketball. She screams more than a middle-aged suburban father at the games. One time she even threw a bowl of popcorn at the wall.

She gets jealous super easily. She won't be explicit about it and tell the other person to back off, but she does engage in PDA (she hates PDA) to show her relationship with you to others when she's jealous.

When she has to go back to school, she makes sure to leave you one of her hoodies (even if it doesn't fit you) with her scent.

She leaves you a note telling you (in her own way...) how she'll miss you and loves you.

"Y/N, please keep the apartment clean while I'm gone. If you don't, I'll kill you. I'll call you at least once a week. Don't set anything on fire. Also, I left you a bottle of cologne on the bathroom counter. Merry Christmas."

[insipid-drivel]

I came across your horse FAQ post, which was really great.

I thought you would enjoy that’s there’s a company out of Scotland called Highlands Unbridled, that does week long hours treks.

They have right on their website, that if you arrive and you can’t ride properly, they will cancel your trip completely. My vet is going on one, and they had to send a resume of their horse experience, and videos of their riding abilities, before even being allowed to book their trip.

I can only imagine the people that try to book with zero knowledge that get turned down quite quickly.

Hnnngh, that sounds like an awesome service for cash-strapped riders! I don't think there's anything wrong with pay-to-ride trail rides, but when you've had enough experience riding to hold your own, they can get stale. Even the horses often seem pent up and bored.

It's been over a decade since a rode seriously, mostly due to health problems caused by a busted gallbladder that made riding extremely painful for me, but I've since had my gallbladder removed so it's no longer a risk to me anymore, I've been getting healthier, and I'm starting to feel the itch to get back in the saddle again o_o

Anyway here's a story about how I almost died because my trail riding horse got overexcited and I only encouraged him:

So, I live up in the Pacific Northwest in the US. If you've never seen it or been there yourself, the landscape is very similar to the landscapes in the British Isles, including Scotland (I lived in the UK for a little while, over in Stratford in Warwickshire, England). I was living in Oregon at the time, and hadn't ridden in a bit, so my mom decided to buy us slots on a trail riding tour. The area the trail took us through was gorgeous - green fields, steep gullies, tall hills, and forests. It was after I'd had to retire from regular riding, and I was depressed because we'd just moved away from the ranch I was working at as a stable hand, so I was going through full horse-withdrawal. It was after the 2008 economic crash, too, so I knew we'd probably never have the money to afford me going back to riding seriously again, and I was too disabled from my gallbladder to work in the stables.

We arrive, and everything is as boilerplate and dry as any other all-skill-ranges-allowed trail rides. The horses were doughy and sleepy and bored. They were already tacked up and lined up waiting for everyone to pick a horse and fumble up into the saddles. I was grumbling under my breath about it, because I really dislike hopping on a horse that was tacked up by someone other than me. If a shitty tacking job is gonna get me killed? Then it's gonna be my shitty tacking job.

The ride starts off painfully boring. We're moving at the slowest walk ever - I've literally warmed up horses on the lead rope at faster paces - and this was before smartphones and good signal, so I couldn't just check out and let the horse carry me through the trails while I took selfies and farted around on social media. The scenery was pretty, but oh my god, I was practically drowning in my own horse's boredom.

We finally arrive in the heavily wooded part of the trail ride, and come upon a steep dip in the trail with a near-vertical wall of scrub and trees to my left, and a ravine so deep on my right so deep that you literally couldn't see the bottom.

My mom gave me a look at this point, because now she's dying of boredom, too. She's like, "I can feel this horse's soul dying under me," and I'm like, "Just the horse's?"

So my mom suggests we give our horses the command to stop walking and hang back. We were the last two in the line of riders, and the path we were taking was too narrow for horses to walk side-by-side, so nobody noticed us not keeping up. We kept our horses waiting at the top of the dip in the ravine, and it wasn't until the last person in the riding group was around a bend and out of sight that we started signalling to our horses, "Hey, we're not noobs, want to cut loose?"

The horses both seemed to answer, "Hell. Yeah."

My mom takes off on a gallop, whooping with glee as her horse bursts forward, down the slope in the path, and back up to the top. It was less than 1/4 mile, so she was well within eyeshot when she turned herself around to see me follow her. Like I said; the trail was too narrow for us to run it together, so she went first.

This is why I hate riding on some other person's tack job. I gave my horse the signal to cut loose and gallop, and as soon as my horse reaches top speed going down a hill with a ravine to one side that promised certain death, that the combination of the summer sunshine sweats + a loose fucking belly cinch that my saddle started sliding down my horse's right side toward the Death Ravine.

I am officially In Trouble, and the world around me literally slowed down like I was suddenly underwater. I stopped hearing normally. Everything went in slow-motion as the "Oh god, if I don't fall correctly, I'm fucking dead," played in my head, combined with my memory shrieking my mom's old SCUBA training at me that she raised me to believe: "Panic and you die."

All of a sudden, my right thigh tenses up on its own, and with more force than I could account for, my leg - seemingly of its own volition - jettisoned me off the slipping right stirrup to the left instead, and I was able to tuck and roll into the scrub and land on the high side of the trail and not tumble to my doom down the ravine. I was bewildered, because I was completely unharmed, and on god, I swear I didn't know anything about how to actually tuck and roll. I'd been told how, but I'd never, ever had to do it before.

It wouldn't be until years later that I'd find out I have Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personalities) and one of my alter personalities took over and saved my life that day.

Because despite what movies like that bullshit Netflix trash "Splitter" would have you believe, DID can actually be pretty fucking amazing and save lives.

[sushigal007]

Over to the last Monty household.

Beatrice: Dad just magically graduated college! Benedick is dying. Beatrice: This isn’t about him.

But yeah. I don’t know if he had flu or food poisoning, but I guess it got worse when he was showing up in the background for the last few years and as soon as I made him playable, he keeled over. Antonio: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Beatrice: Dad would you chill for a sec? I’m trying to catch a shiny. Beatrice: Aaaaaaaand... pause.

Beatrice: Please don’t reap my brother, it’ll ruin my week.

Grim: All right, you know how this goes.

Beatrice: BIG YES!

Grim: Look, this happens quite a lot, you really don’t have to make such a big deal- Beatrice: VICTORY DANCE!

Benedick: Thanks, sis, you’re the best. Beatrice: And don’t you forget it.

I’m not sure anything’s gonna top being brought back from the dead, game.

Cornwall: How dare you! I’m married! And you interrupted my very important bin-kicking!

Anyway, Benedick’s motives are all skew-whiff after that near-death experience, so I sent him out to use up some energy.

Bottom: Oh my, what a stud! Benedick: Hee hee hee boing boing.

Benedick: Throw a real punch!

Isabella: She calls that a punch? What d’ya think, should we go in there and teach those infants how to throw a real punch? Albany: Perhaps after dinner.

Isabella: All right, fucko, dinner’s over, and dessert is a KNUCKLE SANDWICH! Ginger: So hey, those old people behind you are going for it like a rock’em sock’em robot. Benedick: Please. Don’t acknowledge them.

Albany: A SANDWICH ISN’T EVEN DESSERT! Benedick: I’m just... gonna go get a drink.

Bartender: Aren’t you a teenager? Benedick: A teenager with money.

The fighting was getting annoying, so I had Benedick hit up another lot and hit on Isaac Curious here.

And then, home, just in time for... *squints* Alvin Futa here to kick over the bin. Alvin: I’m a Capp now! No you’re not, you’re barely a character. You’re lucky I even went to the effort of googling your name, I thought you were Ricky Cormier.

Antonio: Money can be exchanged for goods and services and legal name changes.

Beatrice: Ahh, a nice cup of tea.

Roxie: Hey, quick question, what the fuck? Honestly no idea, babes. You can have some new gloves when I get to your household.

Beatrice: I love this place. My memory is a bit shit, but I seem to recall it’s glitched and I had to teleport some people in to trigger walkbys? Beatrice: Why would you do that? The lack of people was what I liked best.

Cute stray.

Sharla: Yeah, money’s pretty great. Benedick: But you know what’s even better? Sharla: What’s that?

Benedick: LEAVES!

Sharla: But is it art?

A joke that will probably only make sense to about three people, one of which is me.

Antonio: And that’s why I became an architect!

Antonio: And now to look around for building inspiration.

Beatrice: Computer’s broke. HOW!? I literally just brought that! I’m not even joking, I brought it so she could fulfil a want, and she immediately broke it.

Decided it was time to invite Isabella and Patrizio over for a little family bonding. Patrizio: So long as the bonding involves a delicious, home-cooked meal.

No comment, just happy family fun times.

This time Antonio was the one whose energy was out of sync, so he did some skilling over at the library.

And then the next morning, I sent them out for breakfast. Beatrice: Where’s Benedick? Oh, his hunger bar’s full, so he-

-has decided to lean right into that stereotype about teenage boys eating tons by joining the group anyway. Benedick: Gotta keep my strength up in case I die again!

And then it’s off to the local museum. Beatrice: Can you say “parrot”? Parrot: Parrot. Beatrice: Yes! My very own Pokemon!

Chloe: Oh, I’m serving something, all right.

More leafy fun.

And to round off the week, I invited Bianca’s family over. Townie: Hey kid! Paris: Mom? Bianca: Remember what I told you, don’t make eye contact with them, and they can’t hurt you.

Antonio: I never realised how fulfilling being an architect could be.

Beatrice: Don’t suppose you could help we with some maths? Bianca: I’ll be honest with you kid, I intentionally forgot how to do any of that the moment I aged up, you’re gonna have to ask someone else.

Beatrice: Aliens? Any of you lot know trig?

Benedick: Um, are you two OK? Sahira: Definitely not, please help.

Bartended: You again? Benedick: Life is short. Townie: Heeyyyyyy teenage boy! Benedick: For some people, not short enough.

Uberhood Index

[seabreeze2022]

Bahamas Cruise 2022, Part 3, March 24. Wardrick Wells.

The top of Boo Boo Hill. This is a famous place for cruisers to put a piece pf driftwood with their boats name on it. If you are not careful people will turn yours over and put their name on the back. Some are very creative and artsy. However, I find the whole thing to be a blight on the island and am embarrassed that eco friendly sailors would do this.

This is also just about the only place on the island where you can get decent cell phone service. We are just about 16 miles in either direction to the nearest cell phone tower. So people take their cell phones up here to check in on the world and contact family. Below is Nancy with her cell phone, on a popular bench for calling from. In the background is a plaque.

Cruisers are an inventive bunch. Since the cell reception is best up high. Sailors will put one cell phone in a dry bag, then haul it up the mast. Then hot spot off of it. It works!

Above view is looking NW at the mooring field. Photos do not do the view justice.

This view is looking NNE with a beautiful sloop under full sail coming off of “the Sound”.

Back at the dinghy. Park headquarters are in the background. Now we will head back to our boat at Emerald Rock mooring field.

A little down time before fixing dinner.

Here comes a glorious sunrise over Rendezvous beach, Wardrick Wells.

Early morning on the mooring ball, winds from the NW. Had we been on the anchor, I would be monitoring any dragging towards the beach. But here we have plenty of confidence in the mooring, after diving it the first day and inspecting it.

This was our first mooring in the Bahamas and had a bit of a time getting secured. The lines are so huge Nancy could not get pick it up with the boat hook and run the bow line through it before we fell off. We actually lost one boat hook over the side during one of our attempts. Which was easily retrieved once we were secure.

Later we knew more of what to expect, and worked out a better procedure. But it is always a fun event for the spectators in the anchorage to watch the next boats come in. Some capture the mooring ball on the first attempt. Some take 20 attempts, with tempers flaring. Up in this part of the Exumas chartered catamarans are frequent. Which frequently are inexperienced Captain and crew. Catamarans have some built in obstacles to picking up a mooring ball anyway from the high wide bow. For some reason, the Europeans try and grab the mooring ball going downwind. We watched one even attempt to grab the mooring at the stern and walk it to the bow.

Our freezer is a constant headache for Nancy. About every 3 days she has to pull all of the meat out. Defrost the freezer and then repack the meat. A few pieces will be frozen, those will go on top. The thawed pieces go on the bottom.

Nancy is a great cook. Here she is making bread. We will put it on top of the warm engine compartment to rise if we are motoring.

Todays hike starts at Beryl’s Beach, searching for the ruins of their house. And maybe to “Slave dip”.

This Beryl’s beach looking east. It is a small half moon beach. The folks with dogs bring them here by dinghy for their potty run. The trail head is marked and easily found by the stone wall that stands about 3 1/2 ft. tall and 1 1/2ft. wide.

This was our first exposure to this kind of wall in the Bahamas. As we found out later, they are common. Some built by slaves during the Loyalist era. Some built a couple of decades later. It is comprised by the many loose coral rocks covering the island. Neatly stacked, very stable and secure. Our question was, “Why?” It was a lot of work. Was it a property line? Was it merely to remove unstable rocks out of the way, making it less likely to break a leg while walking? What livestock did they have on the islands? Goats would not be contained by these walls. And they are the only livestock living wild on some of the islands today. These walls would be a highway for a goat. They love climbing on things like this. The land does not look like it would support cattle. Cows would probably break a leg in the many pot holes.

The walls are probably for livestock, they go from shoreline to shoreline. Seldom to an open beach where the livestock could use the beach to go around the end. I have yet to find a open spot where a gate would be. So I need to do some more research.

Just short of the “ruins” we ran across a couple of deep solution holes. I am sure at one time they held water for the locals. If a hurricane hit I would hide in one.

The “Ruins”. One of several very small house foundations grouped together. Built of rocks and mortar. Some broken sea shells around that were common food in the day of the Loyalist. The view was great. Instead of living on the cooler windy side of the islands most of the ruins we found had a view of “the Bank”. Where they could see boats sailing in.

This is a West Indian Top shell, Cittarium pica. There were many remnants of these around the ruins. Obviously a major food source for the Loyalists.

View from the ruins. We were surprised by the cactus in the Exumas.

Another view of the wall leading back to “Beryl’s Beach”. On the far end of the beach, I found what appeared to be a Conch pen. Even if wasn’t, I am sure they had those. Only makes sense to gather more than you can eat, then keep them in knee deep water for easy gathering later.

Time to take a break…….

[engbergeurovacay23]

Tuesday in Axes-les-Thermes

The place we're stating in Ax-les-Thermes is just so incredible in terms of its spaciousness and views--and general niceness, except for the lack of t.p. when we arrived ;) When we woke up on Tuesday morning, it was a cool and misty morning here in the French Pyrenees and we opened the big sliding doors to the decks (of course, there are no screens in the doors, as there are not in the windows -- which is another one of those "welp, I am American and I am used to screens in windows and think they make sense" kind of things). With the doors open, the cool air in the home was wonderful. This place also has electric shutters, which, interestingly, we have in Albuquerque, which were installed in 1982.

Interesting side-note-style story: our bedroom shutter broke in May of last year ('22) and the company could not get a motor, since they were coming from France and everything was still pandemic-backlogged, and they wouldn't even service our crazy shutters, since they're 41 years old. Anyway, with the help of a friend who knows the window/shutter people well, we were finally able to get our bedroom shutter fixed this last May (so, a whole year later!) and we were like, whoa! behold! let there be light! It was amazing to have light coming through the window again and not sleeping in a total cave.

Anyway -- yes--shutters. Shutter technology has really improved since 1982! Here the shutters are virtually silent. It is amazing. Ours in Albuquerque sound like metal scraping on metal with a very tired, elderly motor working as hard as it can ;)

Once we'd had breakfast on Tuesday, we decided to go down to Ax-les-Thermes town proper (down the steep hill from our house, about 4 minutes in the car) and take the gondola up to the Ax-3-Domains ski area. I can inly imagine what this place is like in the winter! The gondola ride is no longer than a tram ride in Albuquerque -- and maybe as far? But, the gondolas are typical ski area gondolas, and people take their skis or mountain bikes up to the ski areas from town in them. So, we all went up, and then Eric and both kids got outfitted for mountain biking. The kids started off in the little terrain park and Cece was so into it! Rowan used it just as a warm-up and then decided he wanted to do the downhill mountain biking with Eric, so they both got the full body gear and full-face helmets. I stuck around and watched Cece in the terrain park and then, after a little while, she was tired and needed a lunch break. Eric and Rowan were off, up the chair lift, at the top of the mountain and we expected we'd just meet them back in Ax-les-Thermes later, and pick them up with the car from the bottom of the gondola.

So, Cece and I had a bit of an adventure getting lunch. So, I repeat, we are at a ski area . . . in the summertime. Even though there is mountain biking, it is not busy at all, and just a few of the shops and restaurants at the base of the ski area, where the lodging is, are open. When we were looking for some lunch, we saw that a few food-oriented places were open and we went into one that seemed to sell roasted chicken, some pasta, some frites (fries), and vegetable quiche. I was trying to make out the sizes of the portions and it seemed that their offerings were quite large. I asked whether--thanks, Google Translate-- we could get just a child-sized portion of roasted chicken, and the man said, no, only whole rotisserie chickens were on offer. I asked if Cece could just get the "frites''' then, and the proprietor said yes. I also asked for the vegetable tart. So, a little bit--five minutes or ten-- later, we got our food and it was a ton of very delicious fries and the vegetable pasta, which wasn't exactly what I ordered but was still excellent. Afterwards, I asked whether I could order a milk for Cece and the guy explained that he'd already made an accommodation by selling me frites without a whole chicken and he only had the tetrapack large boxes of milk. Also, it appeared that there were only bottles of ketchup and other things -- not small sizes. It was so odd. I mean, this is like a food shop at the base of a ski run. I have no idea why they only sell cartons of milk, bottles of ketchup, and whole chickens. The guy was pretty nice about all of it, but it was still a head-scratcher.

We have a joke in our family about how me eating fries with a fork "brings shame to the family," because Eric thinks it is so funny that I would eat fries with a fork. Now, the kids always remark on it. And I continue to do it as a matter of principle--and stubborness. As with pizza. Always a fork and knife. And that is common in Europe, so, there! Anyway, so, Cece and I enjoyed a lot of hilarity eating our fries with a fork and I actually ate some with a wooden knife, because we only had one fork. It was quite a sight to see--which no one, unfortunately, saw. Especially Eric. Cece seriously wanted me to take video of us "bringing shame to the family" ;)

Cece did one more go at the terrain park and then we took the gondola down to town. Once we got to the car, we went back to the house and changed Cece's shoes because hers were soaked. I guess I forgot to mention that it was quite cold at the top of the mountain and the grass was very wet, so Cece's boots got soaked with her riding. Also, Cece got shocked by an anti-cow wire, when we were hiking before the riding began!! We were approaching a trail and there was a wire along the side of the trail, which we thought we'd just duck under. None of us imagined it was intended to shock cows! Cece started screeching and crying--because she'd grabbed it with her hands to go under it-- and we were so worried! Luckily, I mean so luckily, she was just fine, but her leg ached from the electricity going through her hands and through her leg and into the ground!! Poor thing! Perhaps we all should've known that about the wires (which are everywhere), but there were no signs of any kind. Maybe French people just know about these wires and no warnings are needed.

Anyway, so, in the afternoon, it wasn't long after Cece and I returned to Ax-les-Thermes that Eric and Rowan called to say they were coming down the gondola. We picked them up and Rowan was, again, starving. We got him an assortment of items at the Spar grocery -- two yogurts, a box of crackers, and something else that I can't recall . . . Eric had some mushroom pizza. My kids won't eat pizza, so we had to assemble something else for the boy! Eric and Rowan apparently had so much fun mountain biking, though the trails were very hard, apparently! And their path was blocked once or twice by some high mountain cows with picturesque bells who were living a life of luxury up there on those slopes!

After we all reconvened, it was time to try to go to the thermal baths that help this town have its name--they give it the "thermes" part. So, we waited in a short line at Les Bains de Couloubret and then approached the counter to pay. But, as we've seen elsewhere, there were all kinds of rules and signs and we tried our best to see whether our swimwear would comply. France is well known for its egalité perspective, which is why they don't allow "obviously religious" clothing in public schools (this has been covered amply in the news), so the sign showed that a "burk-ini" could not be worn, but neither could some other kinds of swimwear that we had a hard time figuring out. Turns out, our kids' one-piece, sort of wetsuit-material swimwear was a no-go, said the man at the counter. So, we left Les Bains de Couloubret and went on our next adventure: grocery shopping. We ended up in the exotic location of Aldi in a neighboring town. And wouldn't you know it, there was a pair of boys' trunk swim bottoms there and I was like, hot dog, let's get these and then maybe we can pass through the protocols at Les Bains de Couloubret tomorrow! Soaking in hot water was high on my list of things to do in Ax-les-Thermes. Cece had another two-piece swimsuit that we were pretty sure would work. So, you'll have to read the next post to see whether we were successful in our next attempt.

After Aldi, we came home and ate dinner and then went on a little tiny hike to the end of the block here (before Eric had to get on a Zoom call at 9 p.m. here), down an incredibly steep slope but on a trail that was clearly a trail. It was so overgrown, well, canopied, by trees that it was nearly dark, or dusk-like. We wanted to try again on that trail when we had more time, so that was also put on the to-do list for Wednesday--as was the kids and I taking the train to Toulouse, while Eric road-biked! The next entry will detail those adventures, all leading up to our departure from France on Thursday, when we fly from Barcelona to Munich.

I am not sure I have any profound insights to close this post with. I will say the kids are tearing through the books they brought, so in Toulouse, we have on our list an English-language book shop. More soon!

[lunar-writes-things]

3) CHA-CHING!

"And that is it!" Y/n smiled as they finished the makeshift washer and the spider string woven to make a rope to dry clothes "Now to announce my services and prices!" 

<Y/n'sHarmony> Clothes washing services are now open at my hobbit hole! Prices can be discussed at my base! Discounts are possible with any good deals! 

<Tango> ON MY WAY!

<Etho> same 

<Grian> I'm gonna head over 

Y/n smiled at the three who typed in chat before placing down a sign and carving out their prices 

Full set of clothes: 25 diamonds 

Shirts: 15 diamonds

pants: 15 diamonds 

Full set Armor: 50 diamonds

Mending clothes: 10 diamonds per piece

"Those are some pretty good deals," Grian said, spooking Y/n and making them clutch their chest in fright 

"Grian!" Y/n breathed out in relief "Oh you scared the crap outta me!" 

"Sorry!" He laughed "Anyway, I have some mending books and like 4 stacks of quartz ore. I know you need quarts for your megabase and probably some mending for your armor." 

"What do you need to be cleaned?" Y/n asked and stood up only to be reminded that they towered over Grian "For that much, it's like a 15-20 diamond discount!" 

"Two full sets of my regular clothes please and one I need one of my shirts and pants mended. They got ripped during my fight with the dragon." Grian said sheepishly 

"Okay! that will be 50 diamonds! there's a 20-diamond discount." Y/n smiled and took the clothes from Grian who took out the shining blue gems and placed them on top of his clothes

"Those are some good deals indeed!" Tango's voice made them smile and the nether hybrid "And what did you bring for that discount? Huh, Grian?"

"Mending books and Quartz ore!" Grian chirped "Why, what did you bring?" 

"My love!" He announced and gave Y/n a wink 

"Oh My!" Y/n giggled as they put their hands up to hide the bottom half of their face "Tango! So bold!" 

while Y/n laughed along, their eyes closed with joy and laughter Tango watched Grian's expression which turned from shock to confusion to anger, and if looks could kill... Tango would have been dead 100 times over

"Anyways, I'm kidding," Tango said and watched as Grian's face quickly changed from anger to guilt and then back to normal as Y/n opened their eyes with a smile 

"Alright, then what do you have for me Tango?" Y/n asked and set Grian's things down on a table she made outside 

"I have six netherite ingots and a shulker of glass." He said and handed Y/n the shulker box of glass and the six netherite ingots, "I heard you had plans to play around with stained glass so I figured you'd need it." 

"Woah!" Y/n looked up at him with big eyes "I can't take the netherite you worked so hard for!" 

"It's fine, I can always mine some more." Tango shrugged "Anyway, I need 4 sets of clothes washed and then 2 pairs of pants mended." 

"Okay, that's 120 diamonds total but I'll give you half off for the netherite and glass because that is a lot," Y/n said and took the clothes from him "And Etho! What you got for me?" 

Tango and Grian turned around to see Etho arrive with a bundle of clothes in his arms and looking extremely happy with himself. 

"Three full sets plus 4 masks that need mending." He said and dumped his clothes on the table "Two of the sets of clothes are Iskall's though, but I figured he wouldn't mind if I used some of his money to clean our clothes!" 

"All right! What's 75+40 again?" Y/n asked out loud and started trying to do the math in their head 

"115 diamonds," Grian said 

"115 diamonds unless you have something to offer me," Y/n gave a sly smile at the masked ninja 

"One IOU for whatever you need?" Etho asked nervously before he went to look in his inventory 

"Make it four IOU's and I'll let you pay 15 diamonds for this," Y/n said 

"Five and it's free?" Etho tried 

"Four, Take it or leave it Etho," Y/n smirked 

"Deal," Etho sighed and his shoulders slumped 

"Perfect!" Y/n smiled and started folding Etho's and Iskall's clothes "I'll get back to you in the order in which you came! At most, it should take a week! Thank you for paying, goodbye!" 

As the three males left, Bdubs came crashing in with his new moss jacket off his shoulders and a sad look on his face. 

"Bdubs!" Y/n exclaimed and helped him up "What happened are you okay?" 

"My jacket is ripped!" He whined and stomped his foot before Showing Y/n where the rip was "Can you fix it?" 

Bdubs looked genuinely distressed and with his big pleading eyes, Y/n couldn't say no. 

"Would you like me to mend it up?" Y/n asked, "I'll do it for free for my favorite person." 

"Wouldn't you be missing out on diamonds?" Bdubs asked, "I can't pay right now but I will be able to eventually!" 

"Nah, No need. So long as you don't tell the others. Think of it as me returning the favor from last season." Y/n smiled "Remember when you gave me all that diorite to piss off Iskall?" 

"Watch your mouth!" Bdubs said before he smiled and laughed at the memory "And yeah! Ohh! He was so mad!"

"And it also took a bunch of your hard-earned diorite." Y/n said, "And if you really wanna pay me you can help me fashion diorite in my megabase when I get to texturing."

"that works!" the man holding the moss jacket smiled "When's the fastest you can get it done?" 

"While I put Grian's clothes in the wash?" Y/n smiled "I have some moss that I can braid into a thread to sew your jacket with." 

Bdubs smiled before it dropped and his face scrunched up. It was silent for a moment until he looked up and asked "Can I watch while you work? Keep you company?" 

"If you can sing for me?" Y/n offered back to which he nodded and headed inside to make himself comfortable while Y/n picked up the clothes and separated everything from what needed to be washed or mended and then washed. 

Y/n headed inside after grabbing all the clothes that need to be mended and placed the rest of the clothes in a shulker box that they would need to wash out afterward to get rid of the smell that may overtake it. Y/n sat down on a pile of moss that was encased with some fabric they found, making a bean bag chair while Bdubs sat on their bed. 

Besides them were their sewing tools (Thankfully Y/n packed them from last season) and started braiding a thin but strong chunk of moss to sew into Bdubs' moss jacket. As they sewed, Y/n could see why Bdubs owned the beautiful coat. It was super warm and even as it lay in Y/n's lap Y/n could feel the warmth emanating from it. Now Bdubs was a cold person, not in the sense of his personality but in actual temperature. 

Maybe it was the sudden warmth or the gentle singing of Bdubs in the background but Y/n was suddenly very reminded of when they used to spend their days off chilling with Grian in season 7 when no one else was online. The way he would let Y/n sit between his legs and wrap his wings around them as he hummed songs in his hobbit hole and castle when the interior was done. A wave of nostalgia and domesticity washed over them as they finished sewing Bdubs jacket. 

"All done," Their voice was soft and sleepy and if they didn't have work to do Y/n would probably sleep the day away "it should hold for the rest of the season. Enjoy Bdubs." 

"Thanks, Y/n," He smiled and got up to put on his moss coat and melted in the warmth it gave "I can still stay with you and sing if you want me to." 

Unfortunately for Y/n, their communicators beeped and it was Keralis asking where Bdubs was and that he needed him for something. 

"Nah, go see what Keralis wants. If anything I can get..." Y/n drawed out the letter 'e' as she looked who was online "Grian or Pearl to join me." 

"Are you sure?" He asked but stood up anyway 

"Absolutely!" Y/n smiled "Go see what Keralis needs and tell him I said hi!" 

"Alright, Bye Y/n! Thanks for fixing up my jacket!" Bdubs left Y/n's house and took off with his elytra 

"No Problem," Y/n smiled and watched as he flew off "Now let's get the paid stuff done!" 

Y/n sat back on their makeshift beanbag and started mending Grian's clothes. They used the same needle, enchanted with mending, unbreaking, and sharpness, that they used on Bdubs' clothes to sew and used red thread they made to sew up and match the pattern on his sweater and did the same with his grey pants. After Y/n sewed up the clothes, they threw them in the washer with some soap she made last season and watched as it worked carefully cheering when it didn't break down the second the water started draining. As Grian's clothes washed, she focused on sewing up the other clothes of Tango and Etho while humming in satisfaction. 

It was just a peaceful day

Masterlist

[yellowocaballero]

Ghost Rider Gets Sent To The Hell DMV

At a certain point either a little before or very long after Johnny Blaze stabbed Robbie through the heart, Robbie walked into the DMV. 

Or maybe he just woke up there. He was also a little worried that it was the Hell DMV. 

He couldn’t really back up the Hell thing, but somehow it felt right. It looked like every other battered LA DMV, complete with flaking wanted posters and walls yellowed with cigarette smoke, and every seat was occupied by slouching bodies staring absently into the distance. A screen near the front read out ticket numbers. Robbie watched it flip from 666 to 666. Huh. 

Robbie looked behind him, only to see a line stretching out the door. He craned his head, trying to get a better look at the line stretching out into the (Hell?) parking lot, but he could only see blackness and a vague sense of foreboding. 

“So am I still being stabbed,” Robbie said into the tired quiet, “or…?”

Takes place in my weird AU that I should get around to putting on my masterpost. I wrote it so you can come in with no Ghost Rider knowledge and you'd be fine. Really all I know about Ghost Rider is from Robbie's run anyway. I made stuff up. But we should expect that by now.

Very short little 5k thing featuring my special little boy under the cut. This character is unbelievably niche and I don't know why I wrote this, except for the fact that I made a joke about Ghost Rider driving for GrubHub and I had to see that through.

At a certain point either a little before or very long after Johnny Blaze stabbed Robbie through the heart, Robbie walked into the DMV. 

Or maybe he just woke up there. He was also a little worried that it was the Hell DMV. 

He couldn’t really back up the Hell thing, but somehow it felt right. It looked like every other battered LA DMV, complete with flaking wanted posters and walls yellowed with cigarette smoke, and every seat was occupied by slouching bodies staring absently into the distance. A screen near the front read out ticket numbers. Robbie watched it flip from 666 to 666. Huh. 

Robbie looked behind him, only to see a line stretching out the door. He craned his head, trying to get a better look at the line stretching out into the (Hell?) parking lot, but he could only see blackness and a vague sense of foreboding. 

“So am I still being stabbed,” Robbie said into the tired quiet, “or…?”

Nobody responded. The attendees looked vaguely through him, and the employees took no notice. Robbie patted himself down and saw, from bottom to top, that he was still wearing the demonic black drag racing suit, that he was uninjured, and that his head was refreshingly fleshy. He couldn’t feel the car, which sent a weird spike of anxiety in his hindbrain. When he wore Eli’s outfit, flaming head included, he could always feel the car like a weird fifth limb. Or the vestigial tail Gabe showed him in one of his picture books once. 

The Hell thing was up in the air. But he had never felt a cold like this - a shiver in the bones, and a heart frozen solid still - and there had never been such a lonely pull in his gut. He felt impossibly far away from warmth and light and love, like Gabe was on Mercury and he was on Pluto. The Hell vibes were off the charts. And the ticket counter was still 666.

Well. Looks like Johnny Blaze had killed Robbie and sent him to Hell. Goes to show. Robbie had always half-expected this. 

Still, it was best to eliminate foul play. Robbie wound his way through the unsettlingly expansive waiting room, dodging old men trying desperately to sleep and failing. Their chins nodded like drinking birds, falling down until jerking upright again. Robbie did his best not to disturb them, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. 

He approached a customer service counter, the only counter without a line stretching out the door and into the Hell Parking Lot/Infinite Void. The lady behind it wasn’t particularly young and wasn’t particularly old, and had a face that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. She reminded Robbie of his third grade History teacher, and also of nobody.

“Uh, ma’am? Excuse me? Hi, hello.”

The lady stopped typing and looked at him, giving him the fakest customer service smile he’d ever seen in his life. It was pretty creepy, but just because DMV workers never smiled at you. “Yes, how can I help you.”

“Great. Uh.” Robbie looked around one last time, just to affirm his own suspicions. “I’m not complaining or anything. But am I in Hell?”

“Define Hell,” the lady said, which was not reassuring. Robbie opened his mouth. “Please take a ticket and take a seat. We will call your name for processing shortly.”

What was Robbie supposed to do? Complain that he wasn’t supposed to be here? Everybody had to do that. He didn’t want to look like an asshole or anything. The Hell DMV ladies could probably make his afterlife really difficult. “Sure, yeah, definitely. I just - I just want to make sure there’s no confusion - I think a demon’s running around up there with my body. I don’t know the - uh, protocol for this. I just wanted to be sure that wouldn’t cause any problems.” He paused a beat, flexing his thick gloves. “And if you aren’t Hell, see if there was anything you wanted to do about that? Can I file an incident report?”

“If your deal with the demon was properly notarized and filed, then legally that demon does own your body,” the DMV lady said, not at all apologetically and clearly intending to do absolutely nothing.

Notarized and filed, huh? “Can you check that for me? If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Sure. Name and date of birth?”

“Reyes, Roberto, Seven Nineteen Oh Two?”

The lady clacked away at her keyboard, obviously not expecting much. Robbie subtly craned his head to try and get a look at the screen, but it was impossible through the thick and warped glass. A voice echoed from the speakers, calling for ticket holder six six six to come to the front counter.

The lady’s eyebrows furrowed, perking Robbie up instantly. “You aren’t in our intake records for today.”

His method of getting here was kind of unusual. “I think the Ghost Rider, Johnny Blaze, sent me down here,” Robbie said. “Express lane, maybe? Try that?”

The keyboard rattled impatiently, and after a few tense seconds the lady’s eyes widened. “Mr. Reyes, you aren’t even dead.”

They had just gone over this. “My body’s still moving,” Robbie said, trying hard not to feel embarrassed about the whole thing. He felt like a bit of an idiot anyway. “I think I’m in a supervillain grudge match with Ghost Rider. But he stabbed me and my soul’s obviously down here, so…does my body need to be dead or is my soul enough? Define death?”

The lady stood up, sending Robbie’s gut sinking. “Mr. Reyes, please follow me.”

Nobody else in the room clocked him, and it was clear that they only cared for their own misery. But Robbie couldn’t help but feel as if they watched him leave anyway - their envious hatred an almost physical presence breathing down the back of his neck. 

Disappointingly, the offices of the Hell DMV weren’t any more exciting than the waiting room. They were just as grey and washed out as the front, the featureless hallways blending into nothing but lazy continuations of each other, and as the lady marched him down the empty hallways Robbie’s sense of anxiety only grew. 

Even worse, he was kind of hopeful. That was the worst kind of anxiety - when you thought that maybe this time things would finally go right. Robbie’s hopes didn’t have a great track record. Look at how the whole college thing turned out. That had burned him off hope for a while. 

But the drag racing thing was bringing in so much money, good money. Money for medication and doctors and toys. Money couldn’t build up the credit score, but once they jumped through a couple more hoops he could cut off the rental for the house and move to an apartment somewhere else. Anywhere outside the barrio would do. 

Maybe he should have been more specific. 

He was finally ushered inside an office, which was not a thing Robbie liked to happen. It wasn’t like his boss’ office at the shop at all, so maybe Hell could be worse. It was nice and neat, with tidy filing cabinets and a coffee station behind a cheap wooden desk with a surface devoid of anything but a computer and a single red stapler. The lady sitting behind the desk looked far more like a real person than the counter lady did, who just nodded at the new desk lady and closed the door firmly behind her. 

The new woman looked a little like a CEO of a small business. She had bright red cat’s eye sunglasses and black hair pulled into a tight bun matching her black pantsuit, giving her a severe and intense expression. Her name plate read ANGELICA?. The question mark worried Robbie. 

“Sit down, Mr. Reyes. Let me pull up your file.” Her voice was crisp and clean, and Robbie automatically sat down as he worried at the buckle on his gloves. “I will be having a talk with Mr. Blaze. It’s like he doesn’t even know we need a paper trail. So accidents like this don’t happen.”

“Yeah, I think I know the confusion,” Robbie said. He didn’t know why he wanted to be helpful. He was scared of government workers, probably. “See, I kinda got this demon problem, and he’s probably keeping my heart pumping up there.”

“I’ll be the judge of your problem, Mr. Reyes.” 

Robbie abruptly shut up, embarrassed, as the lady - Angelica - rattled away at her keyboard at light speed. He put his hands in his lap, then left them awkwardly at his side, uncertain about the social script for the situation. 

It was a few more agonizing minutes before Angelica spoke again. “So we are all on the same page, Mr. Reyes. Roberto Reyes, twenty years old, older brother to Gabriel Reyes and son to parents.”

“Uh, their names are -”

“Resident of Eastside Los Angeles, works full time at Eastside Automotive. Mild and reserved temperament, unsociable and awkward. Cancer. Born under a bad moon. Appointed guardianship of his younger brother at eighteen, parental whereabouts currently unknown. Kindhearted and prone to acts of desperation.” Angelica looked over the rims of her glasses at him, neon green eyes flashing. “Tell me how you became the Ghost Rider, Mr. Reyes. Succinctly.”

“That’s another mistake,” Robbie said, his unsociable and awkward personality rearing its ugly head. “Ghost Rider’s one of those edgy superhero guys, right? Padre Francisco says he sends bad dudes to Hell.” Left unsaid: and if Robbie could send guys to Hell, he wouldn’t be in Hell right now. He’d have an exit ticket or something. An employee exit. “I just got some demon problems.”

“As tends to happen,” Angelica said dryly. Robbie shrugged. She was probably a demon, he wasn’t about to start shittalking demons in front of their cousins. “Tell me the story of you and Mr. Morrow, then.”

The story of Robbie and Eli. Did Robbie even know it? It just felt like a story of increasingly bad luck and worse decisions.

“Well…I’m not going to make excuses for any of it. You probably hear excuses all day. I bet this isn’t new to you.” Robbie scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, the awkwardly expectant weight of a confessional booth draping over them. “I wanted to start drag racing, but my only car was a junker. So I stole a ‘69 Dodge Charger from my workplace and took it out for a race. The race went sour, the police turned up, I got shot and died. Turns out the car I stole belonged to a gang and had a bunch of supervillain drugs in the trunk. That was this whole mess…yeah, that’s how I met Eli.”

“A little less succinctly, please.” Angelica pulled up a few more files on the computer, embarrassing Robbie further. Well, he didn’t want to get into the whole thing… “Eli Morrow, born 1953 -” Eli was a Boomer? God, that explained everything. “ - noted Satanist, cultist, and prolific serial killer throughout the 1980s. Discovered the secret to an eternal reign in Hell in the year 1989 and committed ritual suicide in order to obtain dominance in Hell. Ugh. Baby Boomers.” Angelica scrolled further down in the file, her unimpressed attitude a stark contrast to Robbie’s extreme interest. He never thought he’d learn Eli’s backstory like this. “Ritual was botched, trapping him in the unbelievably painful purgatory between the mortal and mystical planes, freezing him as a spirit pulled eternally between human and demon, and bound him into his very nice car as a spirit of vengeance. Unusual circumstances from a boringly evil man.”

Robbie nodded fastidiously, as if he had already known that. “He said he brought me back to life so we could be partners and strike back against the assholes screwing me over all the time. He told me bringing evildoers to justice would free him of his inbetween. Totally bullshit, yeah, I’m not stupid.” He faltered a bit. He didn’t know why - what would a demon do, judge you? God had already done that. “I didn’t set my head on fire whenever Eli wanted us to. I tried to just do the opposite of whatever he said. But those flames let me beat up on the guys who were beating up on my neighbors - people I cared about who didn’t do anything wrong. And they tried to kill me all the time, and I didn’t want to let them do that. And I hated them.” He stopped short, the now-familiar flames licking at his chest. “And I hated all of them.”

Angelica tilted her head, staring fixedly at him. Like a snake scoping out its prey. Was that stereotyping? “What did you sell in exchange for your power?”

Damn, sell implied Robbie had anything worth over twenty bucks on Facebook marketplace. He shrugged. “Everything just happened so fast. I died, Eli brought me back, everyone’s trying to kill me, the Ghost Rider’s murdering me…I don’t know, I always just told Eli to go away. Figured he couldn’t ‘cuz I was a devil worshiper now.”

“A devil worshiper,” Angelica said flatly. 

“I’m possessed by a demon, ma’am,” Robbie said, somewhat lamely. “That doesn’t really happen when you’re a member of the Lord’s flock, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Mr. Reyes, at any point do you remember actually selling your soul to the devil?”

Well…Robbie ran a gloved hand through his hair. “The demon led me into temptation, right? Doesn’t that count?”

“Temptation to…” Angelica checked her records again. “Save your neighbors from supervillains?”

“Doing the right thing with evil tools is still evil,” Robbie said stubbornly. “That’s a slippery slope. If you hurt too many people for the right reasons, then you start thinking of yourself as someone who has the right to hurt people. Sooner or later you end up hurting people for the wrong reasons.” People got greedy. Not everybody, not all the time - but too many. Safety was temptation enough. Robbie could hardly even blame them. “Demons wouldn’t stay in business if people didn’t need them.”

Angelica turned to face him, folding her hands neatly on the desk. She arched one well-kept eyebrow at Robbie, who beat back principal trauma with a mental stick. “Are you telling me that even without a deal with the devil, you still believe you’re going to Hell?”

“Is there a right and wrong answer to that?”

“Mr. Reyes, please be serious.”

“What do you want me to say?” Robbie asked, and he realized too late his voice was rising. “You want me to go on and say it? Yeah, I do! I’m here, aren’t I? I’m in Hell?” Robbie waved a hand around demonstratively, as if anybody in the room had forgotten. “I’m only in this situation ‘cause I stole a car so I could gamble. I spent yesterday night using my demonic powers to cheat at drag races. Good guys don’t do that.” Robbie wanted to breathe harder, to get worked up and angry, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t breathing at all. “I like Eli’s power. I’ve been powerless and kicked around my entire life, of course I like it. I like hurting people, that shit sends you straight to Hell. I’m angry all the damn time and all I do is hide it. Sometimes I even hate Gabe! What kind of asshole hates their little brother?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms stubbornly. “Where did I lose you?”

Angelica stared at him. Robbie was beginning to worry that he wasn’t doing eternal damnation correctly. 

“Do you happen to be Catholic?”

“Yeah, obviously. Why?”

“Obviously. Right.” Angelica pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Mr. Reyes, let me make one thing very clear. Bright young men from the barrio who sacrifice their college scholarship to single handedly provide for their disabled younger brother and dedicate their lives to his safety and happiness do not go to Hell. It is cartoonishly saintly. You are tedious to have in my office.”

“What.”

“Performing victimless crimes to give your brother a better life is not a sin. You know full well breaking the law is not a sin. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time and being preyed upon by a serial killer is not a sin. Virtuously resisting temptation to kill and abuse your new power for months is the opposite of a sin. Your Christmas Special ass is not supposed to be here.”

Robbie made a fruitless hand gesture intended to convey the inalienable truth of his sourness and resentment towards life. 

“Thoughtcrimes do not send you to Hell, Mr. Reyes.” Robbie opened his mouth. “Reasonable force does not count when it is borderline superheroics.” Robbie closed his mouth. “I don’t care about your self-esteem. We have a genuine problem here. I have a Ghost Rider sitting in my office who, by no stretch of the imagination, should ever be a Ghost Rider.”

“That’s because I’m not a -”

“Ghost Riders are men of good spirit who lived their mortal existence in sin and made a deal with the devil. They’re our investigators who track down bail jumpers and escapees and give them an express chute to Hell. Works off their bad juju, helps them recover their path towards Heaven, and saves us the effort of tracking down every two bit asshole who isn't delivering on their deals.”

“Wait,” Robbie said blankly, “are you saying that Ghost Rider’s a repo man?”

“Anybody who introduces themselves as Hell’s judgment on the wicked likes to pretend they’re cooler than they are.” Wow. That was actually kind of embarrassing. “You, however, did not even have the decency to make a deal with the devil.”

“Then what makes me a -”

“Your flaming skeleton head narrows it down quite a bit. There’s quite a bit of highly specific magic involved, the spiritual energy is very distinctive, and you are wearing on my patience.” Robbie folded his hands in his lap. “Thank you. Wait in the hallway, I need to make a call to my supervisor and write a strongly worded email to Johnny.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And he’s polite,” Angelica said, disgusted. 

Robbie waited in the hall, fighting the urge to rock on his heels. He messed with the buckle of his gloves and sniffed the leather again, breathing in the strangely reassuring scent of smoke and brimstone. 

Maybe he could walk around and explore. No, that would be the worst idea of all time.

An actual demon telling him that he was a good person…Robbie didn’t know. It reminded him of his teachers. Every so often he had one of those try-hard teachers who always singled out Robbie as the ‘good’ one, one of the few kids who did all of their work and got good grades. Everybody always acted as if he was going to be the success story out of the barrio and it would make their depressing existence as teachers worth it. His senior year English teacher had been so excited to get him into college. 

He’d been so disappointed when Robbie told him that he was dropping the application process. His folks had finally pulled the trigger and left, so he had Gabe to think about now. Maybe part of the reason why he wanted college so bad was because he knew their parents were going to flake eventually, and he wanted to be out of there and ready for when it happened. It just happened before he was ready. But Robbie died before he was ready too, so maybe that was just how life was. 

Robbie wasn’t a success story. He was just another loser asshole dragging himself and his nothing paycheck through another month of bills. Pulling Gabe along behind him, incapable of giving him anything better. If he was actually a good person he’d have Gabe in a good house without roaches or rats. He’d always spend time with Gabe at the end of the day no matter how tired he was. He wouldn’t snap at him or get frustrated. A demon telling him that he was some sort of saint felt like a cruel taunt. It was ridiculous.

Heavy thumps echoed down the hallway, and Robbie straightened anxiously as a monster walked through the corridor. It was huge, the tops of its ears brushing the ceiling of the hallway, and somehow Robbie knew that it was meant to be far larger. Most of the monster looked like a ginormous and solidly built guy wearing a wrap skirt and tank top, but from the shoulders up the monster had a giant jackal head. He was wearing a large chain necklace with a golden pendant swinging from it. 

He shouldn’t stare. No need to be rude in their own house. Robbie fixed his eyes front, tangling his hands behind his back. Then something occurred to him, and he snapped his eyes back to the monster. 

Wait. That had to be Anubis. Robbie probably couldn’t recognize a single Egyptian god but Anubis, but that meant this was definitely Anubis. The real, actual -

Double wait. If Catholic Hell was real, then that meant Anubis wasn’t real. Maybe? Was this one of those ‘everything’s real’ situations? Unitarianism wins again? 

Horrendously, Anubis stopped in front of him. Robbie straightened, clasping his wrist tightly behind his back. This close, Robbie could see that he didn’t really look like a jackal at all - his head was more ceramic than fur, and his black eyes glittered with paint. Even the body looked like stone, carefully painted and carved but statuary all the same. 

“I see,” Anubis said. 

“Uh,” Robbie said. 

“I see most,” Anubis added helpfully.

“Uh,” Robbie said. 

Anubis opened Angie’s office door and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him. If Robbie ever got out of here, he was going to have a great story to tell Gabe. Another chapter in the weekly adventures of El Conductor en Llamas. He had caught Gabe retelling the already embellished stories with extra embellishment to the other kids, everybody equally fascinated by the mysterious Flaming Driver who destroyed the undestructable and saved the unsavable. It mystified Robbie until he realized that the cool car and the flaming skull head and the chains were objectively a bit dope. 

After the special kind of eternity that only a Hell and a DMV could afford you, the door opened. Robbie interpreted this as an invitation and stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind him. The office was just as he left it, with a bonus giant jackal head guy in a skirt relaxing in a chair that hadn’t been there when he left. It was identical to Robbie’s own, yet much larger. 

“To crush your hopes first, we can’t peel Morrow off your soul until after your death,” Angelica said briskly as Robbie sat down. “His spiritual energy is the only thing keeping you alive. We’ll put him back where he belongs after you die. If you feel like dying just to spite him -”

“I don’t?”

“Then you’re Ghost Rider like it or not.” Robbie didn’t really like it, but he was glad that she acknowledged that. “I’m not sending you off to repo souls like Johnny. Sinners damn other sinners. It’s a philosophy of ours.” She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. Anubis tilted his head. “So answer me this: what is Hell supposed to do with an honest man?”

“Let him go back to his life?” Robbie asked dully.

“Waste of a perfectly good demon,” Angelica dismissed. “And if we leave you two alone his nattering voice would drive you into the depths of insanity. The fire within you must be released or you’ll explode like an InstaPot.” 

That was what Robbie expected. He had known the moment Angelica told him that Eli wasn’t going away anytime soon. Ghost Rider was like the Sith - once it dug its fingers into his soul, then it would dominate his destiny forever. 

“And you don’t really want to go back to your life,” Anubis intoned, “do you?”

He didn’t. He couldn’t even blame Eli for that one.

Robbie looked down at his lap, clenching his fists. “Maybe Eli was my own shit luck, but the spirit of vengeance latched onto me for a reason. It made me think for months that I wanted vengeance, that I wanted to punish people. But I think I just want things to be fair. Just once, I want things to be fair. I think that’s all I ever wanted.” He tightened his jaw. “If Ghost Rider lets me make things fair and balance those scales, then I’ll stay Ghost Rider. I can’t resist that. I don’t even want to.”

Angelica and Anubis looked at each other. Anubis tilted his head. Angelica sighed. Robbie wondered if he was ever going to find out why an Egyptian god sat in a creaky office chair in Hell, giving his two cents into Robbie’s eternal soul. 

“If you are willing to hear it,” Anubis echoed, “then I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m kinda short on options,” Robbie said glumly, “so shoot.”

“There is a great and infinite desert in my afterlife.” Wow, an Egyptian afterlife had a desert? Wild. “There is a boat captained by the god Tawaret that ferries our dead to the afterlife. On that boat, their hearts are judged on the weight of a feather. If their hearts are light they join the Field of Reeds. Heavy, and they are lost within the sands of the Duat forever.”

“Sorry, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing, technically,” Anubis said serenely. “You have not sworn yourself to us.”

Okay, Robbie silently screamed, so why are you here?

But Angelica just learned forward, shining green eyes fixing straight on Robbie. The gaze froze him to his seat, piercing straight through him. “Everything in this universe is changing, Mr. Reyes. The mystic and mortal planes are intersecting like never before. The Egyptians are modernizing. I thought those old coots would rather die out than update their operations.”

“Steven is quite convincing.”

“I figure it’s time for our afterlife to modernize too. The time of Chick Tracts and Satanists like Eli Morrow are over. Motorbike gangs with leather jackets and flaming heads are so yesterday. Boys like you, Robbie - you’re new.” Angelica looked at Robbie over the rims of her glasses, eyes glinting. “How do you feel about showing sinners fear in a handful of dust, Robbie?” 

Robbie froze. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Anubis leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers. “There’s not a lot of sand in New York City. And we’re a little…understaffed. There are many other gods and spirits who would appreciate an extra hand transporting souls between mystic and mundane planes. You’d be compensated, of course.”

Instantly, Robbie said, “Compensated how much?” 

Anubis gave him a number. 

“Hm,” Robbie said, doing his best not to let on that it was almost three times what he was making now. He looked back at Angelica. “And how much would you pay for a work contract with me?”

“This is Hell, Robbie,” Angelica said pityingly, “we’re strictly gig.”

Robbie leaned forward, folding his hands together. “So you’d…what, show people the consequences of their actions?”

“Yup.”

“Scare gangbangers straight? Make stalkers leave victims alone? Terrorize Trumpers?”

“As I said. We believe that sinners damn sinners. Let’s let people damn themselves.” Angelica shrugged lightly. “Either it’ll scare them straight or give them a taste of what’s coming. You’d give people exactly what they deserve. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I don’t get it,” Robbie said lamely. “You’re a demon. Why would you want to scare people away from Hell? I thought your whole thing was bringing more people into Hell.”

But Angelica just arched an eyebrow. “When did I say that I was a demon, Mr. Reyes?”

Robbie didn’t say anything for a long moment. 

Landing in this Hell (?), in this DMV (?), was an accident. Eli was an accident. His life was nothing but shit luck one after another.

But this was a choice. The engine was hot and the car was rumbling and ready to jump forward into his terrifying and hopeless future. He just had to pick a direction. Up or down.

Was it up or down? Or was it backwards and forwards? Was it moving or standing still? Was it waiting for twenty years, convincing himself that he’d have to wait for twenty more? He didn’t even know how to move forward. He’d never done it before. 

What to do with an honest man in Hell? What to do with dreams in a home that strangled every hope? What to do with Ghost Rider?

What to do with Robbie?

Robbie turned to Anubis, who tilted his head curiously. “Let’s talk benefits. I want dental.”

“What is dental -”

Robbie barely knew. He’d never had it before. But he was going to find out. 

And if anybody had a problem with that - Eli or the thousand East Side cruelties or Trumpers - then they’d see fear in his dust. 

That seemed fair. 

[fanficbitch]

In Another Life // Jane Emily

A/N: The first child between Y/N and Hotch!

Aaron Hotchner x y/n

September 2013

The level of uncomfort I am feeling is indescribable. It hurts when I lay on my side, it hurts when I lay on my back, it hurts to sit. Just everything is painful. I don’t know how people do this multiple times. This might have to be my only pregnancy. 

Aaron has been out on a case for the last four days and I am practically useless. So Jess has been coming over to help and take care of Jack. I don’t know how we would survive without her.

Jess left me propped up against the headboard by at least four pillows. I am nearly sitting up. However, this just happens to be the best position that I have found. I glance at my clock and see that it is nearly 2 in the morning. I have to get some sleep, but I don’t feel that happening soon.

To my surprise, the door to my bedroom opens to reveal Aaron. “What are you still doing up?” he asks as he walks in.

“I can’t sleep. I’m too uncomfortable,” I whine. Aaron gives me a sympathetic look then begins to undress from his suit. “How was the case?”

“A little complicated. We were stumped for a while till Reid had a genius moment and figured it out.”

I chuckle slightly. “He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?”

Once Aaron has his pajamas on he gets into bed and properly greets me with a kiss. “Now, how have you been?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” he confirms.

“I have just been miserable. I can’t sleep or sit properly,” I say then place my hands on my stomach. “I just need this baby out.”

“It should only be a few more days,” Aaron assures me.

“Your time off starts now right?” I ask and he nods. Although him and I both know that he could still be called in at any minute.

Aaron scoots closer to me so he can place his hand on my belly. Almost immediately, I feel kicks at the top of my stomach. Aaron smiles while I wince in pain. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” I mutter.

“You have to admit she knows her daddy,” Aaron smiles. A true smile from him. I am lucky and see them more than most people do, but every time I see one I am overjoyed.

I place my hand on his cheek and his eyes meet mine. “This baby has no idea just how lucky she is,” I say.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Aaron says. He leans in and kisses me slowly until the kicking starts again. I place my hand on top of his hand that rests on my belly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper into his hair.

“Me too,” he smiles.

                                                          **********

When I wake up, it’s to a jolt of pain. With my eyes closed, I reach my hand out and try to find my boyfriend’s hand. After a moment of searching, I open my eyes and see that no one is there.

I check my clock and see that it is almost 7 in the morning, which means Aaron is already knee deep in emails.

I hoist myself out of bed and waddle down the stairs. I find Aaron exactly where I expect to find him, in his office. I peek inside and see him intently staring at his computer with his glasses on. “Hey,” I whisper as I walk in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says and whips off his glasses. He quickly gets up and leads me out of the office and into the living room then onto the couch. Once I’m settled, Aaron takes the other side of the couch. “How was your night?” 

I sigh. “It was rough. I had contractions nearly the whole night, but they’re at least a half hour apart and not lasting very long.”

“Okay, well do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“Always,” I smile.

“On it,” Aaron says and gives me a kiss before heading to the kitchen.

I manage to get a magazine off the coffee table and flip through it for a few minutes, then I get bored. I move to the dining room so I can overlook Aaron in the kitchen as he makes breakfast.

“So, how has work been today?” I ask.

“I’m on vacation,” Aaron tells me.

“Listen honey, we can do this whole thing where we both pretend you aren’t working, but know you are. Or we can just talk about it,” I say as he bites his bottom lip in thought. “I really don’t mind. I like hearing about work.”

“Well in that case, Morgan is taking over for me while I’m gone and he was just asking a few questions,” he says as he butters my toast. “He says he’s going to do his best not to bother us these next two weeks.”

“Hmm, okay,” I hum.

“What?” Aaron asks as he slides the toast in front of me then sits next to me.

“I just don’t think there is anyway you can stay away from work for that long,” I say. “If Morgan doesn’t call you I’m sure you’ll lend your services.”

“That is not true,” he fights back. I raise my eyebrows at him, but still continue to eat my toast. But halfway through my first piece, pain pierces through my stomach. I lean over and clutch my stomach with one hand while my other one finds Aaron’s hand. “Just breathe through it,” Aaron coos and I do. It’s over within 30 seconds, but it was still painful.

I look up and meet his eyes once it’s over. “Are you sure these aren’t braxton hicks?” Aaron asks.

“I’m sure. These are way stronger than ones I’ve gotten earlier,” I say and he nods.

Just then, a sleepy Jack turns into the dining room, still in his pajamas. “Hey buddy,” Aaron says.

“Hey,” Jack croaks then sits at his seat. “Could I have breakfast please?”

“Yes, I will get you some cereal,” Aaron says then runs off to the kitchen. Jack’s sleepy expression quickly turns to happy when he realizes what we’re getting close to.

“Could she come today?” Jack asks excitedly.

“She could,” I say with a nod.

“Can you please, please, please tell me her name?” he begs.

“We aren’t set on anything,” Aaron says as he returns to the dining room with the cereal. Jack looks back at me from his dad and I give him a wink. I’d say we’re pretty set on the name, Aaron just doesn’t completely know that yet. 

Jack quickly finishes his cereal then goes upstairs to get changed. Aaron slips on shoes even though he is still wearing his pajamas. “You’re taking him to school like that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just an interesting choice for someone who usually wears a suit everyday,” I say. “At least I won’t have to worry about any soccer moms hitting on you.”

“I think they’ve learned better by now,” Aaron says as Jack runs down the steps with his bag. “Okay, buddy let’s go,” Aaron says as he ushers him to the garage.

“Bye Jack!” I call.

“Bye Mom!” he calls back and then the door shuts. I’m still not completely used to Jack calling me mom, but I still love it.

I get myself out of the dining room chair then waddle towards the steps. Before I can even get up one step, a gush of water spreads down my legs. Oh no.

                                                         **********

Luckily, it did not take Aaron long to get back. Once he got home, we both sprang into action and grabbed our things then got in the car. 

I got checked in relatively quickly and am currently sitting in my hospital bed. The contractions just keep getting closer and closer together. I know she’s coming soon.

“Aaron,” I say because he is across the room talking to the doctor. He quickly leaves the doctor and comes to my side. “Hold my hand,” I say, nearly begging.

“Of course,” he says and takes my hand. 

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“The doctor is going to check to see how far along you are,” he says and I nod.

Dr. Larson soon pops out from my lower parts with a smile. “Okay, Mama it’s time to push. Are you ready?”

I look to Aaron before responding. He gives me a reassuring nod which gives me more confidence then he’ll ever know. “Let’s do this,” I say.

HOTCH POV

I lightly coo to the new bundle of joy that rests in my arms. I try to be as quiet as possible because Y/N just fell asleep. 

I slowly rock my arms back and forth as my baby stares up at me. She’s calm and quiet, just like her dad. She let out a few cries the moment she was born, but since then she’s been quiet as a mouse. Her eyes flutter open and close, showing me her beautiful brown eyes. 

I glance up at my girlfriend again. I can’t believe we created something so precious. I forgot that feeling when you have a newborn, but it’s all coming back. The warmth, the wholeness, the pureness. I can’t believe I have gone eight years without this feeling.

There is a soft knock at the door, then Jessica pokes her head in. “Can you take a visitor?” she asks and I raise my eyebrow, unsure. She pushes the door open a little wider and Jack carefully steps into the room. Jessica closes the door again to give us some privacy. 

“Can I see her?” Jack asks softly and I nod. He comes the rest of the way over and stares down at her. “She’s really small.”

“You were this small once,” I whisper. We both stare down at her for a moment while she sleeps. 

“Can I have my baby back?” I hear from behind Jack. Y/N has woken up from her very short nap, but has her arms held out for a baby.

“I wanted you to sleep a little longer,” I say as I stand up slowly.

“I can’t,” Y/N says. “This bed is lumpy.”

Finally, Y/N notices Jack and shows a large smile. “Jack! Did you get to meet your sister yet?”

“Yeah, but she’s sleeping,” he says.

Y/N scoots over to make a small empty space on the bed. “Come up here,” Y/N says. Jack hops up on the bed so he is squeezed next to Y/N. “Do you want to hold her?”

Jack nods excitedly. “Okay,” I say as I place her in Jack’s arms. “Make sure you support her head,” I add. Once the nerves go away, I realize my heart is bursting. The three people I love most in the world all in one place.

“Can I know her name now please?” Jack begs.

I look down at Y/N and smile which is all the confirmation she needs. “Okay,” Y/N says. “Her name is-,”

“Hi!” I hear from the doorway. Garcia is standing with a large bouquet of balloons. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, come in,” I say and she does. Garcia sets the balloon holder on the ground then slowly walks up to the bed. She looks down at our baby for a moment, then covers her mouth. 

“Oh my gosh, she is just beautiful!” Garcia says.

“Well we think so,” I say as I stare down at her. She begins to fuss in her swaddle then lets out a loud wail. Y/N takes our baby from Jack then sighs.

“I think she’s hungry,” Y/N says. 

“Okay, we’ll give you guys a minute,” Garcia says then leads Jack out of the room. Before I know it, Y/N is already feeding our baby. I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand Y/N’s leg.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N chuckles.

I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m just so happy,” I say. “I am also so proud of you. I can’t believe you brought this beautiful, little girl into our lives.”

Y/N smiles down at her. “She is pretty perfect.”

I lean forward all the way and give her a kiss. “You’re perfect,” I whisper.

“Oh, Aaron,” Y/N laughs.

The more I think about it, the more I realize my whole life is perfect. I have a beautiful wife, two healthy children and a stable job. There is nothing more I could ever want.

I scoot closer to my daughter and my girlfriend. “Jane, how have we gone this long without you?” I ask.