#leave a door ajar

[leaveadoorajar]

The Book [an alternate universe]

How awe inspiring to see something so old and so intricate, something created so very far away from here in both space and time. The gilding on the page glows in the careful lighting, and the black of the letters looks like it could eat the world.

It is surprisingly comprehensible for such an old book, and so familiar. I am sure that I’ve read something like it before. Perhaps if it is, as certain historians claim, a parody of certain gospels, it simply follows in their footsteps. It is quite possible that I’ve read a modern translation of one of its influences and am seeing those shadows in the archaic prose.

I’d deeply appreciate a further and deeper reading of the book, but it was unlikely when it was shipped in, and will be just about impossible now that it’s a target for theft. Unfortunate.

The centre’s security is quite good, from what I could see. The CCTV is up to date, and following industry best practices will leave no rooms save the bathrooms unsurveilled. Well. One hopes that they’re following industry best practices, but knowing humanity and, frankly, what they pay the security guards, I doubt that everyone’s attention will be on the task.

The glass cases are strong, sturdy, and locked. Nothing too extravagant, but enough to cause a nuisance to anyone trying to steal. I would suggest installing the book on an immovable pedestal, to prevent the thief from simply picking up the glass case, table and all, but glass and lock has never been much of an impediment to a phantom thief.

Apologies, I return to you and your now chocolate stained pages. A man bumped into my table as I was writing and spilt his beverage all over it. As a surprise, it turned out to be the instigator for a conversation. He’s a magician, you see, and he pulled handkerchief after handkerchief from his pocket with the kind of natural flair that you only see from the most dedicated of showmen. I believe I started to use them to dab the liquid off your pages before he’d even gotten halfway done with his trick, which left him grumbling lightly about audiences these days.

He offered to buy me another cup of tea to make up for the mess he’d made, and I accepted. It was nice. We talked a bit about books, and he gave me his number, asked me to send the title of...oh, I can’t recall now. Darn. I’ll text him to ask what he wanted the title of.

[weltonlasso]

Waddingham has the same commanding yet gentle voice she's known for on television. Her manner is warm, and she answers my questions like she’s letting me in on little secrets.

[thickness-protection-program]

Alright be honest. What corporation would you sell out for if they offered you a pretty penny

[catreginae]

Please like or boop to give me the strength to temporarily do something radical to my sleep routine: leaving the door ajar.

[coffeeandritalin]

Reactions and questions as I watch episode 3 of Cang Yue Jin Ming/Till the End of the Moon. (Possibility of spoilers ahead)

What... how is a frog alive and hopping around in the dead of winter? Actually, now that we mention it... how are all these birds alive in winter? Like I'll give that one crow a pass because it's a magical telepathic crow, but the frog??

He's basically an evil Disney princess

Can you even feel someone's temperature through their bangs?

X-D she absolutely should never ever work for a spy agency

Are they not cold!? I mean IRL, they're probably not... but look how heavily it's "snowing"!

I'm glad she's coming around to the "maybe treating people like absolute sh** will make them build resentment and cause them to lash out" idea...

I mean... sir, you do act very strangely... sigh. But I guess it's fair that he's super jaded and traumatized.

Oh dear... does she actually know what she's doing with those sewing supplies?

Sir! Sir! You are letting all the heat out! What is wrong with you people?

I like how she's trying to be kind to him, and he just thinks she's gone off the bender X-D

Oh no! The older brother is going to be a d*ck!

Awwwww the first time he's speaking up about being bullied is because someone f*cked up the pretty new coat his wife bought him <3

What's with the dramatic camera shot of his hand? What does this mean??

I like that the guys get some pretty, dangly hair accessories, too. Still not as elaborate and large as the ladies, but still - exciting stuff for me *kira eyes*

Sigh why do emperors always need to weaken their strongest military generals -_- (I mean... I get why... but these emperors need to watch more cdramas. Those ploys never end up well.)

Wtf. Who this? Shouldn't the maid have warned LSS/YXW that there was still a person living here?

D*** this nanny looks super young too. Just... everyone in Sheng Guo found the fountain of youth I guess.

The question still stands. Everyone seems to approve of Sixth Prince with YBC. Why aren't they already married? Oh I guess the emperor is hesitant because he's playing the paranoid emperor trope.

TTJ sweetie... how about we lie for now and then just not report anything -_-. TTJ too honesty for his own good. No wonder he didn't survive the palace.

I agree... Steward Wu does indeed talk too much.

But also, how did they get TTJ's level of volume back in the day? DId they have an ancient form of a blow dryer or hair spray? It looks fabulous.

Lol Steward Wu is a caricature of a bad guy and it's mildly amusing (for now... I'll probably get tired of it in 5 min)

ooooh no..... i needed trigger warning for that... warning for others that don't like bugs... a wasp flies into Steward Wu's ear >.< eeeuuughhhhh.... nuuuuuu (like it was fake looking, but it still freaks me out... nuuu why....)

oh.... well... guess I won't be getting tired of Steward Wu anymore...

oooh nooo.... another warning... they showed the wasp crawling back out T.T

I guess there were TTJ has been getting little moments of revenge before now. Or maybe he's only just started. Not clear. but d***.

Oh... Xiao Lin has been cultivating... so is he the shixiong????

Junior Martial Uncle is from Xiaoyao sect, but LSS called GYJW shixiong which would imply he's from the Hengyang sect... I'm so confused about the relationship of these two sects and also who is from what sect... Also, is Xiao Lin (sorry I can't use XL for anyone except Xie Lian) GYJW or not?? THE MYSTERIES!

LMAO junior martial uncle's face... he's like... "son... you are such a killjoy" X-D

KITTY!!!!!!!!

Oooh... YBC being kind of shady here... why not announce yourself? (Like I wouldn't either... but in cdramas this is usually sus)

I bet this an intentional misunderstanding. Like that magical crow ordered the wasp to attack Steward Wu and it wasn't actually TTJ's doing.

Nuuuuu he was just starting to build a little bit of trust toward her T.T.

Yeah... again... what's going on with that right hand of his. OH! Is that where the evil bone is!?

Oh. Previous theory canceled. TTJ did order the wasp. Womp womp.

YXW (thinking): gotta trick the truth out of him... YXW (speaking): you know anything about the dude dropping dead in the palace today?

Again... warning to all spy agencies throughout the universe... do not hire this woman X-D

Wow! She just outs herself. *face palms* This woman is on another level.

LMAO X-D. She's just sits and gets ready to enjoy his strip show X-D.

*watches as lady demon just clouds into the palace* But for real... what were they expecting regular mortal humans to do against a demon? *smh*

Oh no! The nanny!

hmmm... "This was mine to begin with" - what was?

OH! She's actually in PJs! And her hair accessory is out! Hurrah! But also at what point did she change/undress? She definitely got under the covers fully clothed and accessorized. Does Chuntao come in at night to get her into jammies?

Oh! There's something demonic inside her? The plot clumpens...

Oh my bad. This is Ye Bingchang. Huh! Even more sus and interesting.... The plot clumpens further...

X-D There's a minimum of 6 buns in that bowl. And then that's 7 lol.

I love that he just thinks she's off her rocker and has gone crazy X-D.

KITTY!

Omg I love Pang Ziyi.

Hmmm... he doesn't seem all that worried about rescuing YBC... was he just faking liking her? Or does he simply just prefer keeping his secret safe over liking her?

She stole his cat! X-D

Is this lady demon going to try and pick up TTJ for her garden and get caught or something as a result?

Wait... why would the nanny have memories of him eating that pastry? She wasn't there. ALso, why would she have memories of him kneeling on ice in Ye Manor? She def wasn't there... mentally or physically...

Really? She's afraid of a crow? Well... i guess they are bad omens and harbingers of evil...

It's kind of sweet that he has the crow keep its distance away from YXW.

Ooooh... he writes with his left hand eh? Oh... no. he was just disguising his handwriting. Fair... But... that lefthanded calligraphy is ridiculously good. Like does he practice on the reg for just in case moments like this??

Hmmm she's grabbing his right hand. Is that going to be a problem for him?

Now kith.

Pang Ziyi. Sir, you are perfectly useless, and I love you for it. His biggest contribution thus far was saving YXW from a crow. What a king. Lmao he's even acknowledging that his junior is more competent than him. All of this is excellent.

Lmao hilarious. Xiao Lin ends up actually getting the secret note from TTJ. (Side note, Xiao Lin's hair and accessories are so pretty <3)

Hm. Was his hair piece always this elaborate and fancy? I mean he looks very good. But... he's gone from a single hairpin to this fancy hair crown.

What. He caught her and they fell together. Why are they so far apart now and facing opposite directions. Did they horizontally ballerina twirl away from each other as they fell?

Ooooh his telepathy with creature comes from his tribe/mama... not from the evil bone.

I really like this song.

Huh... i really had a lot of reactions and thoughts today... Hope that kitty is ok!

[hellofanidea]

THAT YOU ARE BY HOZIER AND BEDOUINE IS A THOMAS/SYLVIE SOOONNNGGGG

YOU'RE RIGHT YOU'RE SO RIGHT

I'D BE ANYWHERE THAT YOU ARE. THE PAIN IS ALL OF ME. FUCKING HELL.

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[miserye]

i'm so sick of this man being over istg

[leaveadoorajar]

A Day in the Garden

I woke up to the sensation of something soft and fluttering against my cheek. Surprised, I slapped at it, and it darted away, leaving its dust on my cheek. It must have been a very large moth.

It is far too early in the morning to get anything productive done, but between the haunting quality of my sleep and the moth that woke me, I would rather not stay in this room. The walls feel as if they are closing in on me.

As a child, the backyard was quite wild, to father’s eternal shame. I remember now that he banned me from exploring, saying that it wasn’t safe for a child. I say this because I stepped outside to watch the sunrise, and was greeted by an absolute riot of greenery. And brownery. Most of it is thick vine and branches curled all together, blocking paths. There are the shadows of elegant trees, and I can see the outline of a very beautiful western styled garden underneath the choking creeping plants.

In the end I sat on the back step with a cup of tea and watched the sun come up over the walls, painting the sky vivid oranges and pinks and then a kind of whispy blue. I decided that the first thing I’d do with Baaya’s book of handy people would be to see about a gardener.

The man who came took one look at the piano in the drawing room and made a beeline for it. He looked it as if entranced, caressing the wood like a lover. When I cleared my throat he jumped, and apologised sheepishly, and as I sat us down for tea and fresh fruit, he kept glancing over at the piano.

Finally, I asked him if he played. He told me yes, and from there he told me that he’d been a travelling musician for years now and the only thing he missed about his home was the grand old piano that used to belong to his mother. There was no doubting what he wanted, and I’m no monster. I asked him if he’d play for me.

The melody that came from his fingers was… I can’t explain it. Exquisite. I can still feel it buzzing through me as I write this, hours after the man left. I can pluck the tune out on the piano (I’m not unskilled) but there’s something lacking in my hands. I can’t recreate it. Perhaps I will just have to work harder at it.

In any case, the garden is now clear, the musician is quite a bit richer and has been invited back for tea and a small recital in a few week’s time.

I am going to hunt through the house for an appropriate set of chairs and table to put in the garden. I rather liked my morning tea outside.

[circe69]

young, tall, slender, and stupid-in-love simon riley, who’s first mission was to bring you back to the base like a fucking package. the task force had never negotiated with captives on the line, but there’s a first time for everything.

with a sack over your head and your hands tied behind your back, a gruff man yelled out in the rain pouring down above you.

“you’ve got such a perky set for someone so fucking whiny”

“fuck you” you spat, the man wasted no time to grab the sack by his closed fist and yank it clean off your head.

the masked man stared directly into your eyes, his were dark, lit by lust and pure fire. the rain pouring around you did nothing to put a stop to his stare, but as you stared back, his demeanor changed by a singular degree.

“you better watch your fucking mouth,” he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed, causing a raspy squeal to escape your lips, “or i might just have to leave your pretty ass here”

you squirmed underneath the weight of his hand, “be better then going with you.”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” simon dragged you by the throat to the ajar car door like a kitten, “just get in the fucking car” he followed behind you, managed to sneak a squeeze from your ass as he hauled in.

simon riley, who makes himself comfortable with you perched on his lap for the duration of the long car ride. your rain-soaked shirt was torn off hours ago, and simon’s lips haven’t managed to get enough of your pretty nipples.

“mmph, such a pretty pup for letting me - fuckk - letting me taste you”

his hands grabbed and squeezed everywhere - your hips, your ass, that pretty belly of yours.

“too bad you’re such a brat”

you grind your hot cunt on his length in retaliation and moaned, “you like it”

simon’s lips crashed onto yours out in an instant, swallowing your breath and any further remarks. you fisted his mask and tore it off completely before threading your fingers through his dirty blonde hair and tugging.

“ungh, fuck you, takin’ off my mask like you own me.”

you snickered into the kiss as his hand snuck under the waistband of your pants.

“want you to own me, pretty.”

[luveline]

hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?

—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k

“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.” 

Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.” 

“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.” 

“What channel did you say it was on?” 

“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.” 

Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention. 

She whips her head to follow him. 

You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before. 

They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“Should we go help?” Emily asks. 

“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found. 

Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief. 

“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe. 

“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says. 

She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello. 

“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?” 

“That’s the right one, the very first door.” 

“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.” 

You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock. 

It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.” 

“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you. 

You let it happen. “I hate your building.” 

“What the hell?” Emily whispers. 

“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.” 

Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow. 

“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers. 

Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?” 

“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?” 

Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks. 

“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.” 

“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does. 

Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.” 

“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.” 

“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.” 

“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.” 

A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.” 

“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”

“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”

“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.” 

Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated? 

Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.” 

Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?

When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.” 

“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office. 

“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father. 

Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.

It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.” 

You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.” 

Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.” 

“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?” 

“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?” 

Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.” 

You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?” 

That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it. 

“I thought you said Rain.” 

“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.” 

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing. 

Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite. 

Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”  

Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise. 

You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.” 

He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.” 

You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go. 

Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?” 

He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.” 

Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.

[theonion]

Admitting that ever since he joined the campaign trail the billionaire tech mogul had refused to leave him alone, President-elect Donald Trump reportedly locked the bathroom door Tuesday so Elon Musk couldn’t follow him in again. “All right, Elon, out,” an audibly frustrated Trump had said moments earlier as he stood up from the toilet and grabbed Musk by the scruff to throw him out, the SpaceX founder having barged in through the slightly ajar door, sat at his feet, stared into his eyes, and loudly whined. Full Story

[bulletinobserver]

New Rabbitoh Wighton leaves door ajar for Blues comeback

Jack Wighton has left the door ajar for a return to representative football, but the South Sydney recruit won’t . . . Read the full article

[littlelamy]

a/n: the beginning is loosely based of S4 with rafe and sofia! I’m kinda obsessed with rafe being needy behind close doors 🥵I hope you guys enjoy!

you couldn’t stop replaying his words over and over again in your head. each syllable hit harder, cutting deeper than the last. always running her mouth? what. just a hookup, id never date a pogue.

you stood there, behind the slightly ajar door, heart pounding so loudly you were sure it could be heard. but rafe didn’t notice—he was too busy tearing you down with topper, speaking like you were nothing more than a nuisance in his life. he’d never know how those words would haunt you, how the trust you had in him shattered like glass.

your eyes burned with unshed tears, the sharp sting of betrayal settling into the pit of your stomach. but there was something else bubbling just beneath the surface—rage. not the hot, fiery kind that comes and goes. no, this was colder, more calculated. the type that stews, planning its revenge.

your fingers itched to grab your things and leave, but not without making sure he understood who held the power in this relationship. you weren’t going to walk away defeated, not when you could leave him begging for mercy.

so, instead of running, you turned, heart hardening with each step as you walked back into the room, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out a suitcase from under the bed.

if he thought he could treat you like this, he was about to learn how wrong he was. you weren’t some weak girl who would let this slide. no, rafe was about to see a side of you he never had before.

the door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, you could hear his confused muttering. "yo, topper, i’ll catch you later."

rafe’s voice rang through the hallway, much closer now, but still carrying the same arrogant tone. you ignored him, hands moving swiftly as you tossed your clothes into the bag, each item thrown more aggressively than the last.

when rafe finally stepped into the room, his eyes immediately fell on you, and panic flickered in his expression. "what the hell are you doing?"

his voice wavered as he took in the scene—your half-packed bag, the angry flush on your cheeks, the tight set of your jaw.

"what does it look like?" you shot back, barely sparing him a glance as you continued packing.

he hesitated, taking a step closer to you, but the sight of your seething rage stopped him in his tracks. "hey, let’s just—let’s talk about this, okay?"

you laughed bitterly, slamming the suitcase shut before finally turning to face him. "oh, now you want to talk?" you snapped, the sharp edge in your voice slicing through the air between you. "funny, because earlier, it seemed like you had plenty to say."

his face paled as realization dawned on him. you watched as his lips parted, searching for words but finding none. for the first time in a long time, rafe cameron was speechless, guilt flooding his features.

"i didn’t—" he started, but you cut him off.

"save it," you hissed, stepping closer to him now, your eyes blazing. "i heard everything, rafe. every. single. word."

rafe’s breath hitched as the full weight of your words crashed down on him. his eyes widened in panic, and he took another shaky step toward you, reaching out as if to touch you, to ground himself in this spiraling nightmare. "i didn’t mean it, baby. i swear, i wasn’t thinking—i was just venting—"

"venting?" you scoffed, stepping back from his touch. "do i look like someone you just 'vent' about, rafe? am i just some girl you get to shit on when i’m not around?" your voice cracked slightly, the hurt bubbling beneath your fury slipping through the cracks.

rafe’s hands trembled as he dropped them to his sides, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he shook his head. "no, no—please, you know i didn’t mean any of that. i was just—" his voice broke, and you watched as his composure started to crumble, tears pooling in his eyes. "i was just talking, okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. you have to believe me."

but you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily. your eyes darkened as you stepped even closer to him, your voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper. "if you’re really sorry, rafe, you’re going to have to prove it."

a flicker of hope sparked in his eyes, and he nodded eagerly, desperate to fix what he’d broken. "anything," he breathed, his voice shaky. "i’ll do anything."

you stared him down, watching as he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with nervous anticipation. there was no trace of the cocky, confident rafe now. instead, he was a trembling mess, willing to do whatever it took to keep you from walking out that door.

you grabbed your phone from the dresser, starting the recording and letting the soft beep fill the silence. rafe’s eyes widened as he watched you, confusion and curiosity mixing with the fear in his gaze.

"get on your knees," you ordered, your voice firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

rafe blinked, momentarily stunned by the command, but the second your eyes met his, cold and unwavering, he obeyed. he dropped to his knees before you, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. the vulnerability radiating off him was palpable, his breath shaky as he knelt before you, completely at your mercy.

"you don’t get to speak," you warned, holding the phone steady as you circled him slowly, capturing his wide eyes, his trembling hands. "you only get to listen and do what i say."

he nodded quickly, his throat tight with emotion as he blinked away the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

you positioned yourself on the bed, spreading your legs slightly, and gestured for him to come closer. "you know what to do," you said, your tone soft but commanding.

without a moment’s hesitation, rafe shuffled forward on his knees, his eyes glued to your thighs as he leaned in, his lips pressing soft, tentative kisses along your skin. his breath was hot and shaky, the desperation in every touch making your pulse quicken.

"good boy," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, guiding his mouth exactly where you wanted it. "now, show me how sorry you are."

rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking against you with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. his hands gripped your thighs, holding on for dear life as he worked to prove himself, his movements frantic, eager to please.

your head tipped back slightly as a soft sigh escaped your lips, but you quickly regained control, focusing on the phone’s camera in your hand. you adjusted the angle, making sure you captured every second of rafe’s unraveling—his lips swollen and red from the effort, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead.

"look at you," you cooed softly, your free hand caressing his cheek. "you’re such a mess for me, aren’t you?"

rafe whimpered in response, the vibrations from his soft sobs sending waves of pleasure through you. his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his face harder against you, the tears finally spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

you could feel the shift in him—the way his body trembled beneath your touch, the way his breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. he was breaking, right in front of you, and the sight sent a surge of power through your veins.

"don’t stop," you whispered, your fingers tugging on his hair as his pace quickened, his tongue working furiously. "not until i say so."

rafe let out a choked sob, his tears soaking into your skin as he continued, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. you glanced down at him, the sight of his tear-streaked face and swollen lips sending a rush of heat through you.

"you’re mine," you whispered, your voice dripping with possession as you tilted his face up slightly, capturing the tear that rolled down his cheek with your thumb. "and you’ll never forget it."

rafe’s body shuddered at your words, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he clung to you, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. another tear slipped down his face, and you leaned down, your lips brushing against his cheek, kissing the tear away.

you recorded it all, making sure you caught the exact moment rafe broke for you, his body trembling beneath your touch as he whimpered your name.

"please," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "i’m yours. i’ll never leave you. i love you. please…don’t leave me."

his words were slurred, thick with emotion, and you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

"good boy," you whispered, pressing one last kiss to his temple as his body finally collapsed against you, completely spent and vulnerable.

slowly, you stopped recording. rafe barely noticed, his head resting against your thigh, still trying to steady his breathing. his tear-streaked face was a picture of surrender.

you stood up, gently pushing him off you, and his body slumped against the mattress, too weak to even protest. you didn’t say a word as you picked up your phone, your fingers tapping with practiced precision.

rafe watched through bleary eyes, his chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths, the reality of the situation not quite sinking in yet.

the video—the raw, intimate recording of rafe at his most vulnerable—was right there, in your hand. the smirk playing at your lips deepened as you attached it to a group chat, the names of topper, kelce, and several other friends flashing across the screen. rafe’s inner circle, the same ones he was so eager to talk big around. they’d all see this.

and then, for the final touch. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for just a moment before typing: looks like the pogue got your boy.

the message was delivered, the little ‘sent’ confirmation making your heart race with satisfaction. the power was now entirely in your hands, and you relished the silence that followed, the calm before the inevitable storm.

rafe blinked, finally realizing what had happened as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “w-what did you do?” his voice was small, trembling with fear as his eyes darted from your phone to your face, dread sinking in fast.

you leaned down, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with surprising gentleness, and a sweet peck on his lips. “just reminding you who really holds the power here, rafe,” you whispered softly, your voice laced with a wicked edge. “you thought you could talk shit about me behind my back? guess again.”

rafe’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, his body weak and uncoordinated. “no, no, no—what did you send? please, baby, please!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

you straightened up, staring down at him, your smile never faltering. “i sent a little reminder to all your friends. they’ll see it soon enough.”

he scrambled to reach for his phone, but it was too late. his friends were already watching the video, seeing him like they’d never seen him before—broken, crying, at your feet, worshiping you. and with that message—looks like the pogue got your boy—they’d know he wasn’t the powerful rafe cameron anymore. not with you around.

rafe’s breath hitched, panic surging through his veins as his phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table. “no,” he whimpered, tears spilling over again, pure terror flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you, utterly helpless, still with a needy gaze.

you bent down one last time, tilting his chin up so he could meet your gaze, your thumb gently brushing against his swollen lips. “next time you even think about talking behind my back,” you whispered, “remember this moment. because there’s more where that came from.”

with that, you walked away, leaving rafe alone in the room, his phone lighting up with messages from his friends, the weight of his humiliation crushing him.

you didn’t even glance back as the door clicked shut behind you, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

you owned him now. completely.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[dog-bimbo]

18+ only ! cuck!toji can get any girl in the world if he wants to. yet, he wanted you, his handlers girlfriend. while shiu knew to seperate work from his personal life, he trusted toji just enough to have you around at times. toji couldn't tear his eyes off you, you were an absolute babe. you had kissable lips and your miniskirts barely did anything to hide your modesty. and ofcourse shiu knew that he was into you. he didn't have to worry about toji stealing you from him but he still had his fun teasing toji cuz who else gets all chummy with him if not shiu? he'd always have his hand planted on your hip, his fingers gripping on your flesh a bit tighter than usual, he'd always coo sweet nothings in your ear—sugar coated words loud enough just for toji to pick up on, quick pecks all over your face, tight embraces.... the jackass wasn't even that into pda. tojis stealth mode and heightened senses extended beyond just missions so he has caught a glimpse into just how addictive you are during sex. through the slightly ajar door, toji could see things that would make him count his blessings. this is what made him want you this bad actually. shiu's got both of his hands on your waist to hold you steadily as you ride him, his chair squeaking slightly under the weight. shiu's different from toji, that's one obvious takeaway. toji was self centric and even then, his own orgasms didn't feel as good as the ones shiu felt. toji just assumes that the girls who want him are able to take it all which overwhelms them and leaves them tired. shiu knows how to sculpt the insides of a pussy when he sees one. shiu took his time, no matter how rough he was. it was intimate and steamy and slow and steady. and yet, he cut the tension by slapping your poor cunt or your ass everytime you broke eye contact or came without telling him. each stroke, each squeeze and each smack held a purpose and toji was addicted to that. shiu would ram his tip till it reached the hilt. and then he'd do it again. and again. and again. till you're drooling, till your eyes are rolled back, till your brain is mushy to the point where you've forgotten the cocks you've been impaled with before, till your gummy walls have been crafted to be a perfect mold for shius length... and he'd always make sure to embrace you while kissing you. with the delicious pace that shiu maintained, you never got tired no matter how many orgasms you've reached. you're always wanting more and more, like your cunny was meant to milk shius cock and your womb was meant to be filled with his jizz. and at some point, he makes eye contact with toji, it's brief and quick but it's enough for toji get the message. he can watch all he wants, but he can never make you cream like this.