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freedomfireflies · 7 months

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American Psycho*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*

The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“What…are you wearing?”

Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”

“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”

“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”

You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”

“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”

“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”

“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”

“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”

“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”

Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”

He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”

“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”

He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”

“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”

“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”

“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”

Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”

“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”

With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.

“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”

Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”

You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”

You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.

“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.

“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”

He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”

“Only if you agree to go.”

“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.

“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”

And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.

“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”

“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”

He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”

“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”

“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”

You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”

His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”

And you can’t help but grin.

“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”

Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”

“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”

“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.

She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”

He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You wink.

The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.

And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself.

You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.

Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room.

However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.

So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket.

It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune.

And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy.

Your breath hitches.

And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room.

Just like he promised.

After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.

But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.

A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.

He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation.

You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.

Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”

“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”

“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”

Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”

“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”

“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”

You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.

And then, you feel the strength increase.

It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.

But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.

And you have to admit…you adore him for it.

With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”

Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.

Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.

But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.

Him.

So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.

You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”

The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.

You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.

And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.

He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions.

He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.

He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”

You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”

He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder.

One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.

“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”

“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”

You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten.

“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”

You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.

And his mouth.

This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.

You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through.

“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”

You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume.

He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.

He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.

“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”

“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”

But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”

You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.

“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.

You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.

He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.

But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.

Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.

“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”

Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”

You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.

Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.

The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.

But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”

You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs.

“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”

“Sir—”

“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”

“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”

“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.

You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.

“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”

You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.

“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”

“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”

His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”

“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”

“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.

You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”

Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”

You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”

You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”

Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”

“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”

He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”

“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”

And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.

The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers.

“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”

Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.

“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”

“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”

You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”

He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.

However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”

The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.

“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”

You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”

You offer a garbled noise.

“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”

Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips.

And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.

You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.

“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”

Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.

It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.

That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.

“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”

The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.

You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.

“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”

He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.

“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”

His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip. “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”

And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.

Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.

You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.

And him.

The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.

And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other.

“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”

And you do.

You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch.

He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.

The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one.

“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”

You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”

He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”

“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”

Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.

“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.

You nod quickly.

“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.”

You feel your breath hitch.

He smiles.

“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”

~ One for the Money Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

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woodnrust · 2 years

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One thing I will never forgive rich or otherwise middle-class people for is creating the narrative that if you live in poverty but still put aside time or money to enjoy your interests or have any sort of rest or leisure, that suddenly it’s your fault for being one step above homelessness, because how dare you relax when every day might be your last! Don’t you know that every day is supposed to be a struggle for you?? Don’t you know that every moment you’re not working you’re losing the potential to earn money?? Don’t you know that your life could be a lot easier if you spent every waking moment of your life at work, because there’s the possibility that maybe someday it’ll get better?? And how dare you complain that your house is falling apart, since you wasted your money on the luxury of a mobile phone! Work work work, it’s all you’re good for! In the meantime, here’s a motivational poster made by people who live off their parents money! Hang in there! You can do it! It gets better! And I’m just so sick of it.

#jelly.txt #like yeah our water heaters broken and we can't afford to fix it so we can only take one shower a week.#and yeah we have NO water in the winter because the pipes in our house are makeshift and freeze easy #and yeah we can't afford to call an exterminator so we have termites every year that makes part of our house inhabitable for three months #out of the year. and yeah our kitchen floors are made of plywood and tape since our last floor caved in and we couldn't afford to fix it #but to everybody else i'm spoiled because even though my living situation is shitty i have a phone and computer #and a *gasp* nintendo switch! all of which I had to save up my money for years to buy #but why would i buy luxury items like these?? how selfish must i be to buy for myself instead of putting it towards fixing a house??#ok to reblog

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wiltedreamofbaldursgate · 6 months

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Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself.

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly.

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead.

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.”

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.”

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper.

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap.

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach.

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice.

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical.

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him.

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him.

Your frown deepens. “What is?”

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent.

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face…

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though.

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?”

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!”

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other.

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve.

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.”

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn.

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.”

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath.

“Nervous, love?”

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze.

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it.

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.”

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far.

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this.

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?”

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?”

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.”

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes.

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing.

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in.

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair.

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again.

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.”

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive.

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features.

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.”

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do.

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful.

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs.

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again?

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact.

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return.

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.”

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight.

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?”

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest.

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow.

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason.

You’re not his keeper, after all.

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pocketgalaxies · 5 months

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fcg: i enjoy eating silver more than copper

imogen: i am genuinely scared to meet my mom again

chet: it is well known that wood is better than metal

laudna: deep down inside, both delilah and i kind of want the shard

laudna: i don't want [the shard], fearne should have it, but i don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings or [delilah's]

imogen: i love laudna deeply, but i'm disgusted at the thought of delilah looking at us all the time

orym: i'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. doesn't matter if i'm bunking with one of you guys

fcg: sometimes i pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don't do enough with them

fcg: chetney you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything, in ANYTHING, other than wood. there's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood

orym: i've always laughed it off but i guess i do kinda wonder if chetney is my dad

ashton: i am the reason that the jiana hexum robbery went fucking wrong and the reason why i got thrown out of a fucking window

ashton: (laudna: is that why you feel like you deserved to have the nobodies leave you?) yeah.

fearne: i feel like we are very ill-equipped for this job and we're gonna fail at saving the world

chet: while wood may be the superior material to metal, i do fear that with the dwindling interest in it that children will find my toys and thereby myself obsolete every year that i grow older

fcg: i think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time i hurt or kill something, it feels really good. it makes me sorta relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away

imogen: i know we're supposed to save the gods but i've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them will ever respond. i think i'm tainted. i don't know if i want to save gods that don't love me

laudna: you know we could all ripcord out of this at any moment, and i don't mean this scavenger hunt, i mean saving the world, right? andsometimesifantasizeaboutitallthetime

fearne: sometimes i do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping. not weird stuff, i just like to look at you closely and...you know, just look at you. you look so content and comfortable and i can get up and look at you really well. and maybe twiddle your hair and like braid it. nothing bad! nothing bad!!

ashton: any time it's too quiet, i start worrying that one of us, most of us, are gonna end up killing another one of us accidentally. all of us. orym...very gently, but probably–orym may be the only one i worry about the least, but genuinely everybody else. i have panicked thinking about what happens when one of you kills another one of us

orym: (laudna: do you have any strong feelings one way or another kind of being the normal guy in a group of freaks who are all ticking time bombs? are you okay with that, do you have any strong feelings?) i have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. and i have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you

fcg: i kinda worry that i put all my eggs in the changebringer basket and she might betray us all, i had a really weird conversation with her and i think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me

imogen: fearne, i was really disappointed in you for running away from your power, you should take the shard (laudna: you should take the shard)

orym: i really miss dorian, and sometimes i think that's okay and sometimes i think it isn't

pate: [laudna] is my creator, i don't have feelings, i'm a construction

ashton: i feel fucking worse that i just fucked up fearne's life way more than mine, and i should've died instead of that happening

chet: i grew up in the bramblewood outside of westruun, and when i was a kid, i came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. all they left behind were toys. and they ran when errevon the rimelord was running across the plains so i'm kinda afraid of dragons. and i had five siblings, alabaster, pepper, sugarplum, hermey, and chad, and i was so mad that they left, i never looked for any of them. and now i'm pretty sure they're dead, so i think that any family i have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me, that's why i don't get attached to anybody

#honesty!#was just writing these as i watched #there were a few things ppl said that i didn't include bc they felt more like part of conversation #and less like confessions that the chasm responded to #3h16m c3e79 #text #critical role #cr3 #cr lb #cr spoilers #r: bells hells #nova shh

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zeldasnotes · 1 year

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Neptune Notes🧜‍♀️

Check out Moon Notes and Venus Notes

♆If you have a prominent Neptune in your chart you might notice that its hard for others to take you seriously when you are angry because you look so innocent? Thats because your power lies in that innocence. You power lies in looking helpless and getting others to rescue you and getting sympathy from others. Not saying you should use it just saying thats it. Just like ppl with prominent Mercury got their power in their sneakiness and their sharp tongue.

♆ A lot of people with Mercury/Neptune aspects grew up being ignored or left alone in their room a lot. So they had to fantasize to survive mentally which leads to them having a hard time with reality as they get older. They learned to view life from rose colored glasses to survive.

♆ People with Neptune in the 1st house probably feeling like they have never met anyone like them before. They give off this angelic otherwordly aura. Like they are more than human.

♆ People with Venus/Neptune had a mother who constantly criticized herself and was obsessed with her appearance. So they learned early that flaws are something to be covered up and fixed. Thats why they become the perfect partners and do everything they can to look their best. Their mother could also have been very submissive to their dad or blindly in love with him while their father ignored their mother.

♆ Neptune in the 2nd house can be way to generous.

♆ Neptune in the 10th house can be known for being a drug addict. You know in every town there is a group of addicts who everybody knows, they probably have Neptune conjunct Midheaven.

♆A lot of Neptune aspects especially squares can make a person very submissive with a inferiority complex.

♆ Moon aspecting Neptune can indicate a mother who suffers with some kind of addiction.

♆Im so sorry but when people with Mercury Square Neptune tells me a story I have to ask somebody else who was there if thats what really happened.

♆ Mars aspecting Neptune can others an impression of being weak or afraid. Men with this aspect probably gets ”tested” by other men a lot and might be unable to go out to pubs and nightclubs because of men wanting to start fights with them.

♆ Ive seen Mars Square Neptune to be a common placement in people who get used for sex. These people are easily taken advantage off and might believe that they are gonna get into a relationship with the people who just wants to sleep with them.

♆ Neptune rules who we overidealize:

Sun/Neptune: You overidealize your father and men. Moon/Neptune: You overidealize your mother and women. Mercury/Neptune: You overidealize siblings and younger people. Venus/Neptune: You overidealize beautiful women in general and your partners/female friends. Mars/Neptune: You overidealize men and sexual partners, and your enemies.

♆ Neptune in the 1st house can change the way their voice sound depending on who they are talking to. They can even change body language and the way they walk. The scary part is that it comes naturally for them.

♆ People with Venus Square Neptune are so cute and pretty. Like little dolls.😍

♆Neptune dominance in a chart can make someone very kind with huge ammounts of empathy and compassion.

♆People with a lot of Neptune probably get approached by beggars on the street. They look like they will give you what you need. (As a Neptunian myself I have to say ive always been weak for beggars, I cant just walk past them without giving something. When I was little my mom got mad at me because I always wanted to give them our stuff😂)

♆ Squares to Neptune in the chart reminds me of those ”once you see it you cant unsee it” pictures. When you finally figure that planet out you can use it to your benefit. Venus Square Neptune once you stop trusting everyone you will realize that you got the gift to make people trust you and see YOU as the ideal partner, instead of painting others as some kind of ideal.

♆ And once people with Neptune in the 1st house realize the power they hold its over. Kim Kardashian is a perfect example of this constantly creating scandals and extreme ammounts of money because she know how easy it is to make people think all kinds of crazy things about her.

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #ascendant #neptune ascendant aspects #birth chart readings

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crownmemes · 1 month

Text

Sad Sentences, Vol. 7

(Sad sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I don't love you, so just accept it and move on with your life instead of making everyone miserable!"

"Battle scars are not always of the body."

"I don't think you're looking for somebody to prove you right. I think you're looking for somebody to prove you wrong - to give you hope."

"We're better off alone. We suffer alone. We die alone."

"All my life, I looked out and dreamed of being somewhere else. Now I realise how much I'll miss this view."

"I'm not as strong as you. I never was."

"You act like everybody's given up on you, but you've just given up on yourself."

"I love you. I wish I didn't, but I can't help it."

"Why is it so hard to do the right thing?"

"I want to be a good person, like you are."

"Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?"

"Don't say that! You don't have to be alone!"

"Do you ever wish there was another way?"

"Why would you say something like that?"

"I'm obviously not okay."

"Haven't you ever done something in a relationship you wish you could take back?"

"Do you have any idea how painful it is to love you?"

"I know you're worried about me, and I also know that that kind of unselfishness doesn't come naturally to you, but I don't want your help."

"If everybody lies, then trust is not only unfounded and pointless, it's fictional."

"I like being alone - at least, I convince myself that I'm better off that way."

"Why do you value your failures more than your successes?"

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

"You can't help me. No one can."

"Why don't you trust me anymore?"

"I've crossed a line, and I’m having trouble getting back to the other side."

"We're all going to die eventually."

"Every once in a while, I like to hear the voice of someone who's on my side."

"You don't need to depend on people who are going to let you down!"

"Does it ever get any different for people like us?"

"Don't deflect. You always deflect."

"So you have no expectation that any relationship you enter into will last?"

"I love you, I really do. It's just, somehow, it's hard for me to show that when you're here."

"People don't get what they deserve, they just get what they get. There's nothing any of us can do about it."

"I'm not a good man. Not anymore."

"They all hate me. You don't hate me, do you?"

"So many people think that when you're exposed to death and suffering every day, you become immune. It's quite the opposite."

"There's nothing worse than loving someone who's never going to stop disappointing you."

"This city makes people crazy."

"Any relationship that doesn't end in a breakup ends in death. Everything falls apart in the end."

"You must hate me..."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#sad;

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caapsiizzereads · 10 months

Text

Tell me that I’m all you want

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: language, angst, unrequited love (on both sides somehow)

Jamie Tartt coming back to Richmond was surprising news for everyone, including you, even though you learned about it a bit earlier than the others. You’ve only been working at AFC Richmond for a few months, so you haven’t actually ever met him, but his reputation precedes him. Fortunately, once all the legal bullshit is handled, he’s not going to be your problem to deal with.

Or so you thought.

Jamie has been back at Richmond for a few days now, and everybody fucking hates him. He can’t exactly blame them, but he’s trying his best here, and no one seems to give a shit.

Jamie comes in a bit earlier today. He wants to change and get out of the locker room before everybody else gets here. He’s tying his shoelaces when he hears the clicking sound of high-heeled shoes getting louder. He thought it was Keeley or, maybe, Rebecca, but instead he sees another familiar face. He doesn’t remember your name, but he recognizes you from the time you briefly met during the signing process. You’re like the club’s lawyer or something.

You didn’t expect any of the players to be in yet, so you’re a bit surprised when you see Jamie in the locker room. You knew that he started a few days ago, but you hadn’t crossed paths with him until now. Well, you weren’t exactly searching for him now either, you’re here to go over some stuff with Ted. So you nod at him in acknowledgment and turn towards the coaches’ office. There’s no one in there, though.

You turn back to Jamie, “Have you seen Ted?”

“I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“Shit. Um, can you tell him that I was looking for him when you see him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.” You’re about to leave when Jamie speaks up again.

“Wait.” You turn around to look at him. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name,” he admits.

You don’t seem bothered by that at all. “Right. It’s (Y/n), I’m the club’s–”

“You’re the lawyer, yeah, I remember,” he smiles at you.

You nod at him, and then your attention is averted by Ted’s cheerful greeting.

“Miss (Y/l/n).”

“Ted!” you point at him with your finger, “you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.” The two of you walk away to his office.

The next morning, you’re walking in the parking lot when Jamie catches up with you.

“Morning,” he greets you.

“Morning.”

When you get to the entrance, he holds the door open for you. Both of your hands are busy, one with your handbag and the other with a coffee cup, so you appreciate the gesture.

“Thanks,” you smile at him.

You’re about to leave for your lunch break when you hear a knock on your open door. You’re surprised, to say the least, to see Jamie standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Are you busy?” he asks coyly.

“I was about to go out for lunch.”

“Awesome,” he grins and lifts his hand, a bag of food from the nearby restaurant in it, “I was getting lunch for myself and I thought that I could get some for you too,” he says it as if it’s not the fourth time you’re ever speaking to each other.

You look at him suspiciously, “I’ll never say no to a free lunch, but what’s the catch here?”

“Nothing! I just thought that we could have lunch together.” What you hear is that he wants company, and everybody else here wants nothing to do with him. You decide to take pity on him, your fucking empathy be damned.

“Alright,” you gesture for him to come in. A wide smile instantly grows on his face.

He takes the seat in front of you and lists the dishes that he got. You pick the one that sounds the most appealing, and he hands it to you.

“So how’s your day going,” he asks between chewing, obviously trying to start a conversation.

“It’s fine, just the usual stuff,” you reply. It would be polite to ask him back. He’s obviously trying here. He’s been nothing but nice to you so far. You sigh, accepting your fate. “How is it going for you back in Richmond? Settled in yet?”

“It’s fine, yeah. Yeah…” You both know that it’s bullshit, so you just stare at him with a straight face, waiting for the rest to come out. “It’s shit. Everybody hates me,” he gives up and then proceeds to go on a thirty-minute rant about his life.

You find yourself spacing out somewhere around minute fifteen. It reminds you of a few dates you had, if you think about it. You’re being polite to a guy once, and the next thing you know, he buys you a meal and spends an hour telling you his whole life story like you are his therapist.

Once Jamie’s done talking, he looks at you expectantly, like what you’re about to say is going to determine his foreseeable future.

“Let me check if I got this right. You were loaned here for a year, and you spent the whole time treating everyone like absolute shit. Then you got called back to the club that you loved so much, yet you still left them in the middle of the season to do some reality show, violating God knows how many contracts, by the way. And now you’re back here because, for obvious reasons, nobody else wants you, and you’re surprised that you’re not welcomed back with open arms?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but the irony is still apparent.

“But I apologized!”

You hum to yourself, your eyebrows involuntarily rising, impressed with how ignorant a person can be.

“What?” The look on your face obviously doesn't go unnoticed.

“You don’t have any friends, do you?” you deadpan.

Jamie immediately gets defensive, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“That you have no idea how human relationships work. You can’t treat people like garbage and then expect one “I’m sorry” to fix everything.”

Jamie opens his mouth again, and before the words are even out, you know that whatever he is about to say – it’s above your paygrade. You are not about to explain basic human decency to a 24-year-old. It’s a good thing that there is actually someone in this building who’s getting paid to deal with this nonsense, and that’s exactly where you send him.

“Can we… be friends?” Jamie asks before leaving.

“Yeah, sure,” you wave him off.

You said it without actually expecting anything to come out of it. But Jamie keeps coming back. Sometimes he brings you lunch or invites you out, and a couple of times he brings you coffee with a dessert before his practice. And all you need to do in return is listen to him talk (complain) about his day. You think about sending him off to Dr. Fieldstone again, but you like having your little treats, and Jamie seems to be satisfied enough with your company.

Then Ted pulls some “Led Tasso” thing. You have no idea what that means, and Jamie isn’t very good at explaining, but whatever it was, it seemed to help him fix the relationship with his teammates.

You think that now that Jamie is in his teammates’ good books again, his visits to your office will stop, but he surprises you by showing up again two days later.

Jamie’s visits do become less frequent, but they continue to happen nonetheless. Except now it seems more out of habit, or maybe even preference, than a lack of choices. And you’ve gotta admit, he’s starting to grow on you. You even find yourself expecting his little visits.

Sometimes he just sits in your office after practice, waiting for you to finish your work, so that you can go out afterwards. This makes your productivity drastically go down because the man can’t sit quietly for fifteen fucking minutes, but you don't have the heart to kick him out, so in the end, you just give up and leave work early.

During one of your lunchtime chats, you mention to Jamie that you bought a new couch, but the guy who was supposed to assemble it for you keeps postponing the date, and it’s getting on your nerves now. Jamie right away offers to help you with it, and after a little bit of convincing, you agree.

Jamie comes over to your place, it’s the first time you’ve met outside of work circumstances. Jamie is definitely not as good at building furniture as he had claimed to be, but two hours and two beers later, you still manage to put the couch together.

As a thank you for his help, you make dinner, and you spend the evening watching “Legally Blonde” (Jamie insists that it’s only appropriate) on your new couch.

That night starts a whole new pattern of you two hanging out outside of work. You spend time with Jamie Tartt. Outside of your work hours. On your own free will. And you like it! Now you have no excuses left for yourself. This little asshole has really become your friend.

It’s a Saturday night, and you’re out in the bar with the Richmond team. They won a match and decided to go out and celebrate, and Jamie obviously invited you too.

You’re sitting on the table with your feet resting on the bench that you’re supposed to sit on. Jamie’s sitting right next to you, his body occasionally touching your legs.

He makes some stupid joke, and it makes you laugh, not because it’s so funny but because of how dumb it is. He props his chin on your knee and looks up at you, grinning, pleased with himself for making you laugh. You look down at him, and without even thinking about it, you gently brush away a hair strand that’s fallen on his face. He smiles at you softly, which makes him look cute so you smile back at him and– Oh no. No, no, no, no.

You spend the next few days telling yourself that you’re just bored, that it’s okay, and it will go away. But weeks pass, and it doesn’t. You are extra aware of every smile Jamie gives you, every laugh you get out of him, every casual touch you've become so accustomed to. This is getting frustrating at this point. It’s just a stupid fucking crush, (y/n). Just get over it, for fuck’s sake.

You get a reminder of how fucked you are when one day Jamie tells you that he’s not happy about how things are between him and Keeley and he asks for your advice on how to mend things with her. Which is a totally reasonable thing to ask your friend. Because that’s what you are – friends. And you’re going to put your own bullshit aside and act like one.

You and Keeley are close enough for you to know that if you were to be honest with Jamie, you would say that she thinks of him a lot less than he thinks of her. But he obviously needs some closure there, so instead you advise him to just talk to her and apologize, while also reminding him that Keeley is with Roy now and he needs to respect their relationship too.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for handling the situation with dignity.

It all goes to shit on the fucking Valentine’s Day. You’ve never been a fan of the day, but this year is just something else.

Jamie invited you to go to some party with him, arguing that since you’re both single, you can go as each other’s “dates”. The implication there was that you come together and potentially leave with other people.

You didn’t have any better plans, and you recently bought a sexy red dress that you were waiting for a chance to wear, so you thought why the fuck not.

You knew that the dress was worth its money when, upon seeing you, Jamie not so subtly checked you out. “You look good.”

“Don’t I always?” you smirked at him.

You’ve been at the party for almost two hours, and you’re starting to think that Jamie has switched his plan to get a hookup to getting wasted instead, as he’s currently on his fifth drink. Another hour later, you all but drag him into a taxi. He’s talking nonsense and laughing at his own thoughts all the way to his place.

You lead him inside and make him sit by the kitchen island while you pour him a glass of water. He’s going to thank you for that tomorrow.

Apparently he decided to thank you for that tonight because when you turn back to him, he’s standing right next to you, and before you can react, his hands are on you and he kisses you.

He kisses you. And fucking let him. For, like, a whole five seconds you let him. Then your brain finally starts functioning properly again, and you push him away. He just stares at you, like he himself doesn’t understand what just happened.

“You’re drunk.” You harshly put the glass of water on the counter, “Drink this and go to sleep.”

You’re out of the house before Jamie says anything.

Jamie wakes up with a terrible hangover. You told him he’d regret it tomorrow, and tomorrow has come. Once he collects himself enough to get out of bed, he starts getting ready for practice. He enters the kitchen and sees an empty glass standing on the counter. That’s when the memories of the previous night come back to him all at once. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!

It’s only after the practice that Jamie finally mans up enough to face you. Maybe ‘mans up’ is not the most fitting word because what actually happens is him standing at the doorstep of your office with his tail between his legs.

You look at him, your face unreadable.

“Hi,” he starts hesitantly.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

“Since when do you ask?”

Jamie sits in front of you. You don’t say anything, so he takes it as his que to start groveling.

“I’m sorry. I was drunk, I didn’t think.” Obviously.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you seem mad.”

“Well, I am not. Can we just forget about it and move on, yeah?” It comes out a bit too harsh, but you really want for this conversation to end.

“Yeah, sure,” he sounds very unsure.

Jamie really didn’t expect you to be so mad about it. He fucked up, yeah, sure, but it was a stupid drunken mistake, surely you would understand. If anything, he expected you to say something along the lines of “I told you so” and tease him for it for another year. But it seems like you never want to speak about it again. Was him kissing you really that appalling to you? You would’ve pushed him away faster then. Why didn’t you? You weren’t that drunk. Unless… No. You can’t– You don’t– No way.

Jamie has never thought about you in that way. Okay, that’s a lie, he totally has. But you were right when you said that he didn’t really have any friends, and at that moment of time he really needed one a lot more than he needed a hookup, so he buried all the sexy thoughts about you and put all his efforts into befriending you instead. That was working out well for him until now.

One thing about Jamie, he always has everything written on his face. So when the next day he comes into your office with that weird look on his face, you know exactly what’s going on here. You pray that he at least won’t say anything because there’s only so much awkwardness that you can deal with. You stick with acting like nothing happened, and it seems to work because, thankfully, Jamie doesn’t say anything, and you keep talking as usual. Eventually, things go back to normal.

You know that Rebecca wants something from you when she knocks on the door before letting herself in to your office. This clue never fails because she asks you to be her moral support plus one to some charity event for rich people. She says you have a knack for dealing with pretentious assholes. You’d argue that it’s actually more of a professional skill. But either way, you have a weakness for beautiful women asking you to go to fancy events with them, so obviously you agree.

Little did you know.

You notice him for the first time around twenty minutes after you get there. A man, seemingly in his mid-thirties, very handsome. He’s talking to some couple across the room. You watch him for a while before he looks away from his companions and your eyes meet. You look at each other for a few seconds before he turns back to the couple. Throughout the next hour, your eyes find each other in the crowd four more times, until you finally get a chance to talk.

He introduces himself as Jason, and you chat for some time, getting all the small talk out of the way. The waiter approaches you, offering you another glass of champagne, but you decline.

“There’s only so much champagne a girl can have on an empty stomach,” you joke.

“Fancy a dinner?” Oh, that’s smooth.

“Right now?”

“I know a good place.”

“Lead the way then.” You hope Rebecca will forgive you for dumping her.

He offers you his elbow, and you readily wrap your arm around it. You wave at Rebecca on your way out, letting her know that you’re leaving. She smiles at you and nods approvingly, she’s glad that at least one of you is having fun.

The place is, in fact, good, and the dinner goes really well. So well that it turns into breakfast and exchanged numbers.

Jamie’s sitting in your office rambling about the upcoming match while you’re eating your lunch. He’s been speaking for about five minutes when he notices the unusual amount of enthusiasm in your reactions.

He gives you a suspicious glance, “You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

It looks like you think on it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that you are indeed in a particularly good mood. Something along your train of thought makes you smile, but you choose not to elaborate and just prompt Jamie to go on.

A week later, Jamie comes to your office to wait for you to finish your work, only to find you already on your way out. He asks you where you’re leaving so early, and you smile at him mischievously and tell him that you have plans.

The next day, Jamie’s at your office the first thing after practice, ready to interrogate you about those mysterious plans of yours. You tell him that you met a guy at that event you went to with Rebecca and you’ve been going out with him. You sound pretty excited talking about the guy, which makes Jamie feel some weird type of way, but he brushes it off. He’s glad you’re having fun, however long that lasts.

It’s been two months since you first met Jason, and it just might be the happiest you’ve ever been in a relationship. Because that’s where you two are at right now – a relationship. No matter how busy he is at work, he always finds time for you. You go out on dates to all kinds of fancy places, he sends you fresh flowers for your office every week, and when he’s away for business, you get surprise dinner deliveries. Sometimes you even go with him, having already visited New York and Rome. There was also one time where you mentioned being tired of the constant London rains, so he took you to Sicily for a weekend. You have been over the moon.

Jamie met him for the first time when he wanted to hang out with you after work, but Jason beat him to it, as he was already waiting for you at your office. After that, Jamie saw him when he came to the matches with you or when he was picking you up from work. For some reason, Jamie found himself being unreasonably skeptical of the guy. But no matter how hard Jamie tried to find something wrong with him, he couldn’t. Jason treats you in the best way possible, he makes you very happy, and everybody else likes him: Rebecca, Keeley, even Roy shook his hand.

You and Jamie are hanging out at your place with your usual program of takeout, beer, and a movie. Except that Jamie hasn’t been paying attention to the movie for a while now, too preoccupied with other thoughts.

“So it’s serious, between you and Jason?”

You’re a bit taken aback by the question that seemingly came out of nowhere, but then you nod in answer, “Yeah, I think so”.

“Do you… like him?” Jamie can’t bring himself to use any other word.

You chuckle, and a soft smile remains on your face, “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Good, yeah. That’s good,” Jamie smiles at you. It’s not good. It’s not good at all. It fucking stings.

You don’t dump Jamie. You spend less time with him, yes, because now there is someone else you want to spend time with, but he’s still your friend. So why does he feel like he’s lost you?

He knows why. The same reason why when you happily tell him something about your relationship, Jamie feels a lump in his throat. The same reason why he feels a little too disappointed when you can’t hang out with him because you have plans with Jason. The same reason why he’s been coming back to your office this whole time. He is in love with you. He is in love with you, and he’s been too much of a fucking idiot to realize it before it was too late.

Richmond has won the last match of the season. They are being promoted back to the Premier League. That calls for a celebration. Everyone is rightfully cheerful, getting drunk, singing Richmond chants, dancing.

Jamie’s sitting by himself with a drink in his hand, and his eyes are fixed on you. You’re standing with your arms around Jason’s neck and his arms around your waist, your faces are inches apart. You murmur something to each other between smiles and kisses. You two look annoyingly in love.

Part of Jamie is happy for you because that’s what you deserve. To be valued, and appreciated, and loved wholeheartedly. Another part of him wants nothing more than to be in Jason’s place right now. To be the one being loved by you and to love you with all he has in return. To tell you every day how wonderful you are and to be able to make you smile like that.

He did it to himself, didn’t he? If only he wasn’t so stuck in his own bullshit to see what was right in front of him. But that chance is gone now, and all he can do is watch.

A/N: and I’m in the corner watching you kiss her oh-oh-oohh

A/N 2: i started hating this fic by the time i finished it...

A/N 3: will there be a part 2?? who knows…

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

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estro-gem · 7 months

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Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

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coexistentialism · 7 months

Text

AAAA I have so many thoughts actually

I think what people don't realize is that you oftentimes might not know you have the symptoms of DID until AFTER you start to explore the idea of having it in the first place.

It was so difficult trying to figure out what symptoms applied to me, what symptoms I related to, what symptoms I was exhibiting, etc.

And that's because DID in and of itself oftentimes even hides those symptoms from you in the first place (especially if you are polyfragmented).

You don't realize what symptoms you have until you really dive deep and try to LOOK for the symptoms in the first place.

Like, not only can a LOT of the DID symptoms be chalked up to "normal, everyday things", but the amnesia and general dissociation that comes along with the disorder makes it difficult to really KNOW if you have those symptoms, how often you experience them if at all. It makes it hard to say for certain "yes, I relate to that" because amnesia can make it seem like you never experience it, or that you "only rarely, if ever" experience it. And dissociation, shame, denial, etc. can make it to where you downplay it if you DO experience it. AND, as I said, a lot of it is oftentimes excused by other things.

Especially, for me particularly, I never really related to "derealization/depersonalization."

I certainly did in the past, and I know I still do, but the thing is, I don't personally relate to the way that dissociation is DESCRIBED.

And I don't know if I'm alone in that?

That DES test that everybody talks about is like my #1 enemy (this is a joke/light-hearted lmfao) because I could never really understand or relate or apply the things that the questions are asking me to myself. I also could not understand what they mean, and a lot of them did not apply to me because of my specific life circumstances, etc.

I would try taking that test on multiple different occasions and feel upset, frustrated and invalidated, because I could not understand the questions; I could not understand what they mean and apply them to myself; I could not make an accurate guesstimate on "how often" they applied to me; and I couldn't relate to them.

I would try taking it and would get scored anywhere from around 23% to 32% at MOST. And it invalidated me so bad, because my friends would be getting scores in the 40% ranges, and I felt like "I guess I don't have DID then" and "I guess I just don't have it that bad"

I would see people making posts about the test online and "brag" almost about "haha lol I got 48% lol oops" and I felt so invalidated because I never saw anybody get below that. It made me feel like I don't have DID at all and that I didn't have it that bad.

And the people who would tell me they didn't think I had DID, etc. and even one therapist (who was really shit honestly oh God I should make a post rambling about him cause. Oh Boy.) and a random psychiatrist I tried to see for a diagnosis (I hoped to be able to get diagnosed and go straight to a therapist instead of having to see a therapist to diagnose me first - I do not recommend this) (She was also horrible), coupled with the fact I just never met or saw anybody else like me, made it real difficult to believe that I could possibly have DID or OSDD.

And looking back at everything, my unawareness of everything - my symptoms, my feelings, everything - made it so much more difficult to be able to describe the precise experiences I was having.

Here I was, going out of my way to "that wasn't another alter- it was just.. Me, doing and saying things, by choice, I am always in control, it wasn't someone else!!!" while every single person around me so outwardly, so flawlessly, and so effortlessly seemed to fit right into system spaces; using the language of "fronting", "switching", "co-consciousness" as if it came naturally to them, and I could never understand, I could never relate.

No matter how much research I had done, I constantly felt like I was "missing" something - like everybody else around me already caught on and understood their experiences and their alters and everything, and I was an outsider intruding in spaces I didn't belong.

No matter how much I thought I knew about DID, no matter how much people and the internet would say "hey, you know DID doesn't require (xyz)", I still felt like "but surely there's something missing that I'm not getting; surely there's something that these people are experiencing that I clearly am not, because if I was, wouldn't I be able to relate to these words to? Wouldn't I know who my alters are by now? It's been years, why am I still so in the dark, and everybody else around me knows so much? There MUST be something I'm missing."

I still felt like I was waiting for myself to pass out or have some experience where I've just "teleported" somewhere with no memory of how I got there, or some "obvious" sign that I've switched, and no matter how much research I did, no matter what people told me, I was still waiting, I was still expecting SOMETHING.

SOMETHING that would make it "obvious" that I've switched; SOMETHING that would make it "obvious" that I have DID; SOMETHING that would make it clear as day and undeniable.

Of course it never happened, because it doesn't work like that.

But when people so effortlessly talk about their alters using language like this:

"Gary is really depressed and likes to write poetry; he only fronts to feel our depression. He doesn't really like to talk to people, so he keeps to himself. He speaks bluntly and doesn't even really like to speak in general, it's too much energy for him when he fronts."

Instead of:

"When I'm really depressed, I really like to write poetry. I don't really like to talk to people when I feel that way, when I'm in that state, and I don't really like to speak at all, it feels like too much energy, when I'm in that state of mind. I also tend to speak more bluntly when I'm like that."

It becomes hard to believe that you have DID at all when the first example is the only way people seem to talk about their alters and their DID.

With the first example, it gives the impression that you're speaking about a totally separate person (which, is totally valid if your alters work that way, but that is besides my point here). It gives the impression that the person who has DID/OSDD is speaking about totally separate people, and like "someone else is in control of that person" or something. At least to me, it did. And that's what I was waiting for, some "obvious" sign, some "obvious" THING to happen to me that would make it clear as day that I had switched, that I was a totally different person, etc. and I was still waiting for SOMETHING to happen, despite what I had researched, despite what people said, because the only way people ever talk about their alters is with the first example.

And I couldn't get it, I couldn't relate, I couldn't understand.

When the only language you are given to explain a phenomenon is language you cannot relate to, it only makes sense that you then decide you must not relate to that phenomena.

It's like if I tried to find resources about DID/OSDD in a language I can't understand, putting it through Google Translate a few times, and then trying to read it and then trying to apply it to myself.

There are endless ways to describe subjective experiences, and when you are only given a few descriptions to choose from, it's easy to say "I don't relate to any of these!" when there are billions of other ways to describe the same phenomena.

It's like if you were told to describe an apple, but you were only given three descriptions to choose from, all of which may or may not be true, depending on the size of the apple, what kind of apple, the color, etc.

Like you're given these three options to describe an apple:

Sweet

Green

Large

Like, sure, all three could apple to a wide variety of different apples, but... There are so many other descriptions you could choose from, and these three descriptions may not apply to every single apple. Sometimes apples are not green, and sometimes they aren't so much sweet as they are sour. Sometimes they are small.

But when you're only told that these are three examples of descriptions of an apple, and you're not given any other language, you start looking at red apples or tiny apples or sour apples and questioning "is that really an apple..?"

*This also applies to OSDD if it applies, I'm just a guy with DID and can only speak about DID since I don't have OSDD

#my posts #actuallyosdd #actuallydid #did system #osdd system

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knoxic · 6 months

Text

A kiss may ruin a human life.

Oscar Wilde

-Masterlist- part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

wc: 2,7k

warnings: sexual tension (?), mentions of death and kidnappings, reader has adhd, horny aaron, miscommunication again. pls let me know if there's more!

a/n: the story changed a bit but it will go back to the first plot eventually! is just that i had a few more ideas and decided to add them here instead of writing another fic. part 3 is aaron's pov so we'll get back to the angst of part 1. no use of y/n.

a/n²: did i make it seem like reader is gender neutral?

Silence.

Nothing but the sounds of your breaths could be heard in the room.

A room that now felt cold and dark, if it was uncomfortable before, now it was unbearable. None of you spoke, you were still waiting for him to say something and he was too shocked to form any coherent sentence.

"If you're not going to say anything-"

"No- i just, don't know where to start." his voice was low, quiet and unsure.

"Start from," you paused, trying to decide what you wanted to know more, "Sunday morning."

"What?" was he playing dumb?

"We got this case on sunday morning, that was when you started acting weird." please Hotch...

"Oh," he still didn't know what to do, but whatever he did now would change your relationship anyway, so, he should probably tell you the truth. "It's because, i- i knew we would have to share a room," he paused to find words that explained what he was feeling but you took it another way.

"What is so wrong about being around me that always gets you like this?" your voice broke a little, and you hated yourself for showing weakness.

"There's nothing wrong!" that came out louder than he intended and he saw the way you flinched, "sorry, but i need you to understand, there is nothing wrong about you. Please just stay quiet so i can finish this?" he pleaded and those usually frowned eyebrows were now raised, his eyes were pleading.

"Okay."

There was a pause, he was gathering his thoughts and giving you both time to calm down.

"From the moment i heard we would be staying together, i knew i would have to get a hold of myself, as a unit chief i couldn't just let go like i wanted to... like i want to," what?

"I love spending time with you, more than i should and it scares me. I thought that if i didn't get too close i would be fine and it worked, until we shared a room for the first time," he sighed, "You were so sweet and caring and it surprised me," that sounded more like a question "i expected that but i didn't expect to... like it so much."

"Hotch-"

"Wait." he glared at you.

When you remained quiet he started speaking again "Ever since you came to my office, i knew i was in trouble." he sighed and shook his head, "When Strauss told me about you i was ready to treat you just like any other agent who came to my unit, but when i saw you... I didn't know what it was about you that kept pulling me in but i didn't want it to stop, being around you healed a part of me that i wasn't aware was bleeding. The way you treated me, with no judgement for what I've done... you treated me like everybody else and still made me feel special... i let myself be fooled by hope, of... what we could be."

...

At this point you were speechless, Hotch has never said so much and your mind was still processing what he implied.

"I know it's wrong, i am your superior, fuck, I'm your boss, the one you should look up to, the one who should take care of you and here i am being the creepy guy." he laughed but there was no humor behind it. "I am so sorry i made you uncomfortable, it was never my intention to let my feelings come forward. If you want to file a complaint against me, i understand."

"Hotch... no." it came as a whisper, you coughed and tried again, "No, but, i still don't know what it means..." fuck, I'm dumb. "Feelings?"

"Feelings. For you."

"Like, romantic feelings?"

"Yes? i mean, if they were harmless i wouldn't have to tell you," with his usual frown back he looked at you unsure, as if you were discussing an unsub's methodology.

"Oh..." harmless? why would it be harmless? him having feelings for you was all you wanted!... file a complaint?

"That is... what i wanted for as long as I've known you." you looked at him not sure what to expect but he kept eye contact, you could see the moment he understood what you meant.

He did not look relieved.

...

"Fuck." he whispered and threw his head back, rubbing his eyes roughly with the pad of his fingers. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know, but from the way you're acting i take it you don't want to do anything..." it hurt to realize he did not want to do something, deep down you knew it wasn't so simple but at the moment you couldn't really think past the possible heartbreak.

"It's not like that."

"It seems exactly like that..."

"I'm just not sure we should act on it, i am not good for you." He raised his voice and turned so he was sitting with his feet touching the floor.

"So we should just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" you said while pushing the blankets and mirroring his position, except his legs were covered by plain black pants. Your grey shorts that barely showed underneath your oversized shirt did not help your fake confidence.

Your question was met with silence.

"Maybe." Yes.

Careful to not let him see how disappointed you were, you kept his gaze, looking just as tough as him.

Under your stare, his resolve almost slipped until you got up, the same way you did after finishing an interrogation. The way you seemed so sure of yourself almost got him believing that what he said didn't affect you. That same sound of your bag opening is what snapped him out of his trance.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll spend the night with Emily." your voice was low and steady. The walls you built up to protect yourself from things that could hurt you coming back up strongly, walls that you used to hide your emotions when you didn't want people to know how you were feeling and my god did they work. He hated to be met with a emotionless expression when you turned to grab something from your bed-

"You don't have to..."

"Yes i do." again, low and steady. "I'll sleep there tonight and tomorrow I'll book another room."

He didn't know what to say, that was the best thing to do but you being away meant he wouldn't get to hear you breathing...

"We only have a few hours before we need to go back to work, you should let Emily sleep." trying to make you feel guilty didn't seem to work as you kept gathering your things. He was getting anxious now and when you passed him to pick up your phone from the bedside table he pulled the device out of your hand. "Stay. it's too late for you to be walking around the hotel." he was hoping that if he used his work voice maybe you'd listen.

"Give it back."

"No."

He was towering over you and the feeling he felt before came back, if you kept looking at him like that, he would break.

He couldn't afford to break.

So he left you standing there, walking to the bathroom with your phone in hand. You stood like that even after he slammed the door, shocked he had really just taken your phone just like your parents did when you were a teenager. After the shock passed you almost laughed at how insane this was, did he really think that this would stop you?

He knew it didn't stop you but he hoped it would. He had taken your phone but it's not like you needed it if you were going to stay with Emily. Looking at himself in the mirror, the eyes he was met with did not seem like him, for the first time in a while he did not know what to do. When he went inside he didn't even know what he was thinking exactly, only knew that he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible without making you leave the room. Looking around, his eyes fell to the same towel he used earlier that now was folded beside the sink, in his rush to take a shower he didn't think much about where to put it but he was sure he hadn't folded it.

You don't remember hearing the lock, if he didn't lock the door you could just go in and get your phone back, even the idea of fighting again seemed appealing, maybe if you fought with him some more your feelings would dissipate...

A shower always helped him take his mind off of things but right now he could barely move without being reminded of your presence. The towel you folded because he had thrown it somewhere carelessly and you knew he would want to shower again before work, your own towel and dirty clothes that laid together on the floor, the liquid soap you used that normally would be kept in a corner with your skin care products but that now was right beside his shampoo, you were also desperate for sleep and yet you made up time to fold his towel... yeah a shower wouldn't hurt.

Hearing the water running somehow duplicated your want to go inside, finding yourself right in front of the door with your hand on the handle when-

"Fuck!" a whispered scream, muffled by the water yet distinct enough for you to understand.

If you were to go in, you would have to be prepared to face him... the door would make noise and there was a chance that maybe the curtain was not closed enough and he would see you coming in, if you were to go in... it would have to be now.

This is definitely not what he planned to do, the initial idea was to take a shower to clean his head from any thoughts of you, not to fill it it more thoughts... definitely not these kind of thoughts. Now he was hard and even more frustrated.

Both his hands were on the wall, his head resting on it while he contemplated what to do, touching himself while thinking of you when you were at the other side of the door right after a fight felt dirty. When his left hand started slipping down a couple knocks echoed followed by your voice, no longer the voice that made him feel small.

"Hotch? can i come in?" he should tell you no, what if you somehow managed to see the evidence of his perverted thoughts?

"Yes." yes please, come in, come see for yourself that I'm just as worst as those guys on the street that you held yourself back from punching.

You were right. The door made a loud noise that made you cringe, looking at the mirror you were met with the damp white curtain, the fact that he was standing naked behind it right now was enough to make you forget why you were here in the first place, a loud buzzing made you remember. Walking quickly to where he had put your phone, right above his towel, picking it up you were met with a call from Rossi and 3 new messages.

"Dave is calling." you figured Aaron had also heard the phone buzzing. "Hello?"

"You're awake!"

"Uhm, yeah..." weird.

"Good, is Aaron with you?" come on Dave, you know he is.

"Yes he is." you were facing the mirror and saw when Aaron reached a hand up to pull the curtain back before letting go, apparently he remembered you were there and he couldn't just get out, especially given his current state...

"Great, i called him 3 times and he didn't pick up" there was a pause, "Thought that was unusual, he usually picks up in the first ring..." he was talking in a suggestive tone but, he often used it when talking about Aaron.

"Oh, he's taking a shower..." no, no, no you shouldn't have said that! he can probably hear the shower running-

"At 3am?" he laughed, "Weird guy, but well, tell him boy genius found something that could help the profile, we're heading back to the station right now."

"Okay, I'll let him know."

Guess you weren't sleeping tonight, at least Aaron did, having a sleep deprived guy driving you wouldn't be good.

"What did he want?" you didn't realize you hadn't said anything after the call ended, snapping your head up you were met with Aaron watching you from behind the curtain, his hair was damp and he looked flushed.

"Spence found something, they're heading back to the station now." he nodded, his wet hair shaking and a few droplets of water falling down his face, it looked obscene really. "Anything else?"

"He said he called you and found strange that you didn't answer," you were avoiding looking at him now but still saw in your peripheral vision when he nodded while humming.

There was a moment of awkwardness until you realized you could just leave, so you did just that.

"Wait!" he called out before you could fully step out of the room, "Can you hand me the towel?"

You didn't answer but still went back inside to grab it, the fabric felt soft and comforting unlike his wet and cold hand when it accidentally touched your fingers.

"Wait for me? I'll be out quick."

"I don't-"

"Please?"

"Sure." you sighed.

...

Closing the door behind yourself felt more relieving than catching an unsub... okay, that was an overstatement but the feeling was there. Not knowing how long it would take for him to be out but aware he only had the clothes he was wearing to bed in the bathroom, you tried to change as fast as you could, having Aaron seeing even more skin would be too embarrassing.

You had done a good work earlier picking up your clothes, all of them were stuffed inside your go bag and you could see a white button up, white tank top and the black pants you wore today sticking out, it would have to do. Deciding to take one step at a time you pulled the shorts down, your shirt was big enough to cover your ass if Aaron suddenly opened the door, thankfully, it did not happen. Taking your shirt off felt a bit too risky, just having the cool air of the room hit your bare back and chest would make you shiver, if Aaron saw it you would be left shaking. Pants buttoned and shirt left for later you picked up your sneakers, boots were too much for a time you were supposed to be sleeping, just as you were finishing tying them the loud noise of the door opening and heavy footsteps filled the room.

"Ready?" he seemed out of breath, you hadn't looked up yet but you were sitting in your bed and he had to walk in front of you to get to his. When he did, you could see the black pants pooling around his feet.

"Not yet."

Picking the shirt and tank top you had throw a little further on the bed you risked a glance in his direction, bare shoulders, pale enough you could make out the outline of where his hand were gripping a second before, his tense muscles were aching even more now, having to interact with you and pretend to not have almost jerked off to the thought of you minutes ago had only made it worse.

Hearing your bed creaking he looked back, he supposed you were walking to the bathroom to change your shirt, oh what he would do to have you change right in front of him... fuck, not again!

Adjusting his pants, again, he tried to focus on the case.

Women around 20-25 were being kidnapped, found dead 3 days later. The case was pretty much like any other but the city decided to not cooperate, the team was stressed and it doubled when another woman went missing yesterday, one of the police officers knew her family and almost started a fistfight with Derek when we took a break, not pleased with the fact that we weren't machines and actually needed to take breaks eventually.

"Now i am." you were back, he hadn't even realized he continued moving while thinking.

"Good. Let's get going."

Now with the work mask put on, both were ready to act like no words were exchanged tonight.

a/n³: i read this like 3 times and i still don't trust my work lol, I'll try to find a beta reader so i can post faster.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader

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