#(oop- someone's angry!)

[acatalepsy-and-tea]

I was just on tt (yes ik, a mistake) and came across a video discussing a theory the guy had and he mentioned the timless child and there were once again lots of comments saying they like the storyline but it would have made more sense if the Master was the child, and I'm sorry, but no, absolutely not. It makes complete sense as it is, and in fact, at least for me, the Master being the child would take away what is most compelling to me about it: The Master being so angry about the Timelords hurting the Doctor that he burns the whole planet to the ground, for them, because he loves them in such a sick way(though he would never admit this, above all not to himself). And she knows that it is because of her, and she has to deal with it. The Master also feeling utterly lost because the one thing he was sure he was (aka the Doctor's first and oldest friend) got ripped away, and he's essentially not better than all the other star-eyed people following her. Him suffering unbelievably because of that. The Doctor also suffering, though for her it's because of there is so much she can't remember. None of that would happen if the Master was the timeless child. Sure, physically (?? idk if that's the right word to use here, lol) things would go roughly the same, but emotionally they would just not be as interesting anymore, it would probably fall into the Master feeling like a god and the Doctor not giving much of a shit about this new revelation. Also the notion that that would explain why the Master can't seem to ever really die? Stupid as well. Maybe I'm interpreting what people mean with that wrong, but connection the Master's clinging-on-to-life with the qualities of the timless child kinda implies that he does so with regeneration energy which is just plain wrong? Most, if not all of their most desperate actions in this regard had little to nothing to do with that. Idk, maybe I'm biased because I really love the Master (and want them to suffer as much as possible) and therefore have a strong opinion on everything considering them, but I feel like people saying things like that have never actually thought about their character beyond the surface level of 'the Doctor's evil friend'

[tsbs-darksun-confessions]

What about your situation ship, Solstice? with ruin?

I'm sorry... My-?

.....

No..... Surely not-?....

.....

SHUT. UP.

You have no idea what you're talking about... it's utter nonsense!... I don't have a-... situationship.... let alone with Ruin!

[ssreeder]

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), others to be tagged later - Relationship Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Jet (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Kyoshi Warriors (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Jee (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Bato (Avatar), A bunch of OCs, Long Feng, Joo Dee (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), General Fong (Avatar) Additional Tags: Violence, Blood and Injury, War, Minor Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Major Character Injury, Amputation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, possible major character death, themes similar to the first two books, Sexism, Racism (like has already been written in first two books), dark themes, Human Trafficking, Slavery, Just a lot of dark war-like themes, there will be a battle, Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Injury Recovery, Healing, Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Animal Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings each chapter, Hopefully some healing for Zuko finally, no promises, but that’s the goal, Reunions, hopefully a happy ending, Sokka gets some healing too, Non-Consensual Drug Use Series: Part 3 of Leaving It All Behind Summary:

-This is the last book of the series LIAB, please go read the other two books before this, or you will be very confused-

Zuko has been taken by the Earth Kingdom army to who-knows-where, and Sokka is determined to get him back.

But he can’t do it alone.

With Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors by his side, Sokka is headed to Ba Sing Se to find Katara and Aang so they can go rescue his fire bender.

Things aren’t as easy as he had hoped. Corruption, lies, and unknown horrors await them inside the city’s walls. None of this is helping Sokka’s mental well-being.

Hakoda and his men face a problem of their own as Azula approaches with the intentions of making it rain fire.

Sokka and Zuko will both find themselves having to reintegrate back into a life they thought they left behind, with people they hardly remember. It isn’t easy for anyone, especially when they don’t recognize the person standing in front of them.

[andiicraft]

Excise the word 'talented' from your vocabulary.

I'm not saying this to sound ungrateful, but damn, it sucks to hear someone say "you're so talented!" when you show off something you've created. Talent is a myth. Talent doesn't exist.

Talent implies that I was born with the ability to do what I do. Talent implies that I didn't spend the last 12 years honing my skills through hard work and practice, but instead that I was just born with it. That I came out of the womb being naturally good at what I do. And it feels... a little insulting.

Consider using 'skilled' instead maybe? 😅

[locaiintersex]

yr blog is interesting to me. just wanna say people who would be otherwise borned perisex but arent have been in intersex activism for a bit now, forget their name now but theres been prominent people who were forcibly changed due to botched circumcisions, and honestly only recently have i heard this weird denial of intersex spaces to people who are seen ws 'less intersex'. not saying u do that but you mentioned that you saw it before and the elitism is so odd to me.. anyways this term is cool, like a sublabel for intersex folk or an alt label for people who feel like ir doesnt fit..

regardless, just wanna say, people who ""are technically perisex"" are always welcomed in our spaces..

unnecessary distinctions to put people into new categories has never helped anyone!! (meaning the people who think there should HAVE to be a distinction between 'technically perisex' folk and other intersex folk..)

EXACTLY. there's all sorts of reasons someone might end up with intersex experiences post-nataly!!

If people are gonna insist on the only the natal-intersex model being correct they shouldn't get mad when someone tries to make a term for non-natal intersex experiences

[lovinglin]

THERE'S A SUBPLOT NOW FOR THE CYBERPUNK AU APPARENTLY HRNAHDKAHDJFHSJA

Ft. @4rachnophilia abt to win GF's heart and beat BF's ass rap battle style (and hopefully not get out of hand)

Also extra cameos in the bg ft. me, @ttimecode, @beeholyshit and @jils-things bc why not HRHEHDJAHDHD

[blushblushbear]

slowly but surely working on a THING btw

it's the shortest thing but I AM

FIGHTING MY BRAIN to even get this much

everyday I wake up and have to wrestle my brain into submission just to exist but damn this bitch got me tired

[foxyreacts]

Above all else, Batman is kind. He doesn't kill people because he wants them to have a chance to be better. He was given a chance to be better.

Everyone is capable of change. He's the hero Gotham needs because he wants to make it better. Purging the evil from the street would have fixed Gotham, but it would not have saved anyone. Kindness is what Gotham needs. Not vengeance, not prison. Kindness. If you are kind, people might listen. People might change.

If no one was kind to Bruce Wayne he would have been the worst of them all. Kindness makes change for the better. Please. Be kind.

82 YEARS AGO - BATMAN DEBUTED FOR THE FIRST TIME Eighty-two years ago on March 30, 1939, Detective Comics #27 hit newsstands, introducing the Caped Crusader for the very first time in a featured story called “The Case of the Chemical Syndicate.”

“And for all that fierce exterior, I’ve never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne.”  - Amanda Waller, Justice League Unlimited, Season 2 Episode 13 (2005)

[geriatricmagolor]

i don't get why other people hold grudges for a long time

[figureitoutinthemorning]

It’s nearly half one in the morning. Even my cat is asleep. Why am I still pacing around.

[luna-azzurra]

Fictional kiss prompts

Forbidden Kiss Prompts (“We’re not supposed to do this” but oops, we are)

a kiss in the shadows, hands clenched in fabric, trying to stay quiet because someone might hear.

“We can’t—if someone sees us…” — and then they kiss anyway, consequences be damned.

a stolen kiss through the bars of a prison cell, whispered promises of escape in between.

a “we’re on opposite sides” kiss during a truce, lips barely touching because if they kiss fully, they’ll never walk away.

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Angsty Reunion Kiss Prompts (“I thought I lost you” edition)

a kiss the second they see each other again—rough, breathless, and on the verge of falling apart.

a kiss interrupted by tears, hands holding like they’re afraid to let go.

“Why didn’t you come back?” whispered into their mouth between kisses.

a kiss where they pause halfway through just to look at each other, both a little older, a little more broken.

a kiss that tastes like salt and rain and survival.

Soft Domestic Kiss Prompts (Wholesome fluff to rest your soul)

a sleepy morning kiss, lazy and warm, exchanged without even opening their eyes.

a kiss planted absentmindedly on the top of the other’s head while making tea.

a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.

a soft kiss over a grocery list, mid-aisle, because “you looked too cute to ignore.”

the kind of kiss shared in bed while reading—just because one of them couldn’t help it anymore.

Post-Confession Kiss Prompts ( “Oh my god this is real” edition)

a kiss that stumbles right after the words “I love you,” like neither of them know what to do with their hands.

“You mean it?” — “Yeah.” — cue the most careful, reverent kiss of their lives.

a kiss that starts with laughter and ends in a dazed, overwhelmed silence.

one of them whispering, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” right before kissing them senseless.

a kiss that comes too fast after the confession, clumsy and colliding—because they’ve waited too long.

First Kiss Prompts (that change everything)

a kiss that starts mid-sentence, because one of them couldn’t wait one more second.

the trembling, breath-held pause right before their lips finally touch—eyes wide, hearts racing.

“If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway.

the kiss that’s followed by shocked silence, and then one of them blurts, “Okay… wow.”

the hesitant brush of lips—barely there—until one of them pulls the other closer like they’ve made up their mind.

Comfort Kiss Prompts (Love as a safety net)

a kiss placed gently on a trembling hand.

a kiss offered like a promise—“I’m here. I’m staying.”

a forehead kiss given after a nightmare, while whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be okay right now.” – kissed on the temple like a prayer.

the quiet, slow kiss after a panic attack, grounded in breathing and touch.

Jealousy Kiss Prompts (when emotions boil over)

a sudden, possessive kiss that shocks both of them—especially because they weren’t “together.”

a kiss to shut someone up mid-flirt—“They’re with me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” – “Because I saw you flirting with them.” – followed by a sharp, angry, perfect kiss.

the kind of kiss that starts in fury but ends in breathless “I need you.”

a kiss that screams “You’re mine. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

Accidental / Surprise Kiss Prompts

tripping and falling directly into a kiss—then freezing in shock as realization sets in.

a practice kiss to “make it look real” that very much does not stay platonic.

a drunken kiss that was supposed to be a dare, but lingers just a second too long.

mistaking the other person for someone else in the dark—“oh… wait—” – “don’t stop.”

an “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[heavenlybodies333]

Thin Walls -S.R

There were three things you learned after this case:

1. Motel walls are basically paper, 2. Spencer Reid has no concept of volume control and 3. Morgan has perfect comedic timing.

It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out—two days, three max. A serial abductor in a small town outside Phoenix. No real profile to build, just lots of legwork. Everyone was exhausted, sweaty, and sleep-deprived by the end of it.

Which is exactly why, the second the team checked into a dusty roadside motel, you pulled Spencer into your room by the collar of his vest and locked the door behind you.

“You sure?” he mumbled into your mouth, even as his hands were already sliding up your shirt, already massaging your breasts. You nod, moaning into him, “I’ve been thinking about this for three days. If anyone knocks, we’re not answering.” He got you on your back, lips mapping their way down your body and when he finally slid into you, deep and perfect, you couldn’t quiet your moans.

The rhythm he set was relentless, thighs wrapped tight around his waist, each thrust pulling moans from your lips. He wasn’t quiet either, “You feel so good—so tight—fuck, I missed this—”

The only sound in the room the slap of skin, the wet drag of his mouth on your neck, and your whimpers between gasps of “don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, Spencer—” as he thrusted harder the bed creaked louder and the headboard slammed the wall. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you weren’t alone on this floor. But then Spencer reached between you and rubbed fast, tight circles against your clit—you came with a choked whimper, back arching, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck—Spence—harder, please—” God, your moans were not indoor volume. Which is probably the exact moment someone on the other side of the wall started pounding. You didn’t even hear the first knock.

But the second one? A bang echoed from the wall beside the bed. A hard, angry thump-thump-thump.

“SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!” Morgan’s voice barked through the drywall, unmistakable.

You froze. Spencer froze. You stared at each other, naked, sweaty, still connected—and then he bit back a laugh that burst out of him in a breathless, mortified wheeze.

“Was that—” you gasped, “—was that Morgan?”

Spencer covered his face with both hands. “Oh my God.”

There’s a long pause. No more knocking. Just silence. And then—because you’re both horny, impulsive, and apparently incapable of shame—he starts moving again.

The next morning, you walked into the breakfast diner holding Spencer’s hand like a lifeline. Rossi didn’t even look up from his paper. “I told you kids those walls were thin.”

Morgan had the biggest shit-eating grin. “Sleep well, lovebirds?” You choked on your orange juice. JJ raised an eyebrow. “You guys really couldn’t wait until after we checked out?”

Emily leaned over and stage-whispered, “Those walls are not soundproof, sweetheart.”

Rossi finally looked up from his paper. “I’ve been a profiler for over thirty years. That is the first time I’ve ever been woken up by live sex commentary. Thank you for that.”

“Sounded like a headboard homicide,” Morgan muttered.

You put your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

Hotch didn’t say anything, just sipped his coffee and raised a single eyebrow. You were pretty sure he was quietly judging your stamina.“Next time,” Rossi said casually, folding his paper, “book a suite.”“So,” you say, voice an octave too high, “when’s wheels up?”

Morgan grins. “Not soon enough.”

You catch Spencer’s eye. He turns a shade of red you didn’t know was possible. You mouth: oops. He mouths back: worth it.

a/n: letting my intrusive thoughts win

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[hotchnersgirll]

let me love you — a. hotchner

summary: it takes you almost kissing someone else for him to realise just how much he cares

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

warnings: angst, tension, angry kisses, jealous!hotch, he's so hot, did i mention tension? bcs there's so much tension tension tension, a few swears, her bag sort of disappears.. oops

word count: 5.2k (oops x2)

Aaron doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Okay, that’s not true — he does. When he has to. When there’s a case file in his hands and you’re just another member of the team he needs to brief — another agent he’s in charge of. When there’s a question about geographical profiling or victimology and you’re the one who can answer it. When he’s assigning roles and has to say your name.

But everything outside of that? Nothing. Cold silence. Controlled distance.

And it killed you.

You wouldn’t even know you kissed him. More than once. Wouldn’t know how his hands felt in your hair, or how he’d said your name like it physically hurt him. Wouldn’t know that there was a moment — no, a string of moments — where he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him to earth.

Because now? Now he’s pretending none of it ever happened.

And the worst part?

You know he still wants you.

Not in the arrogant way. Not in the I’m-so-irresistible kind of way. No — you know it because you see it. In the way his eyes flicker to you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. In the way his jaw ticks when Morgan jokes too casually with you. In the way he goes quiet when your laugh cuts across the room — his lips pressing into a thin line while his body tenses, almost like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing along.

He wants you. And he’s made that clear before.

But he’s also your boss. Older. Emotionally constipated. A man who shuts people out just before they get too close.

So of course, he made the decision for both of you. Of course, he pulled away, said it wasn’t appropriate, said you needed to keep it professional. Of course, he slammed that wall up between you and iced you out like he didn’t miss you the moment he left.

And now? Now you’re in Florida. The local PD is stretched thin, there’s a suspected spree killer hitting tourist-heavy areas along the I-4 corridor, and you’re operating out of some small, humid precinct where the AC rattles and no one knows how to use a case board.

Hotch pairs you with Officer Pretty Smile — an actual cop, around your age, golden tan, charming, full of casual grins and easy compliments. You don’t even hear most of what Hotch says when he assigns you; you’re too busy fuming at the fact that he’s done it again.

Just like the last two cases, he pairs you with some random officer, keeps you away from the scene, away from the precinct, away from anywhere he might be — in a way, he’s not letting you do your job.

Distanced from the rest of the team, you’re not much help.

How is that professional?

You know the game he’s playing. Avoidance. Distance. Control.

You’re sick of it.

But Officer Pretty Smile — his name’s Ryan — doesn’t seem to mind the stormcloud hanging over your head. He makes it easy to forget, just a little. He’s perceptive, actually listens when you talk, knows when to make you laugh and when to stay quiet. It’s a relief.

He flirts — lightly, respectfully — and you flirt back. Why shouldn’t you?

Aaron’s the one who put this wall up. He’s the one not speaking to you.

You don’t owe him your loyalty if he won’t even look at you outside of a damn case briefing.

The case wraps up after a few days of gruelling profiling, false leads and one late-night stakeout that finally caught your UnSub at a rest stop. You’re debriefing the locals, coordinating transport and starting to pack things up when Ryan walks you out to the parking lot.

He offers you his number, and you take it, pocketing it with a smile that widens when he leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. It’s innocent, really. Careful and sweet, but when he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His face stays close, breath brushing against your skin as his eyes lock onto yours.

Then his gaze drops — not just to your lips, but the space between you — like he’s weighing the distance and what to do about it. It takes a breath or two before he meets your eyes again.

He leans in, slower this time, and his lips just barely graze yours. A featherlight touch that barely classifies as a kiss. It’s more of a hesitation. A silent question — do you want this too?

Yes, you do.

You answer by lifting a hand and placing it gently on his jaw, your touch light but certain.

He exhales softly, and his hands move to your waist, holding you like he’s been wanting to all day.

Your lips are so close, a breath away, and just as you’re about to close the gap—

“Agent!”

Aaron’s voice cuts through the humid Florida air like a gunshot, sharp enough to turn heads. It’s not just a call — it’s a warning. A demand. His tone carries weight, and everyone nearby instinctively pauses, glancing over to where he stands near the SUV, his jaw tight, posture coiled like he’s seconds away from snapping.

You freeze.

Where the fuck did he spawn from?

Ryan pulls back, but not completely. His hands stay on your waist, holding you close, as his eyes look over your shoulder.

You, however, don’t turn around — stubbornly refusing to give Hotch the satisfaction of ruining this moment.

He can wait.

He can watch.

You keep your gaze locked on Ryan. On his lips that are a bit further away than before, parted in confusion as he stares at your boss.

Your fingers shift slightly against his jaw — a gentle nudge meant to draw his attention back to you. And it works. His eyes flicker away from whatever intensity Hotch is radiating behind you and settle back on yours.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, and the moment you do, he seems to forget everything else as he leans in too.

And, just like before, just as your lips graze—

“Agent!”

Somehow, his voice is harsher than before — each syllable laced with barely contained fury.

Your hands fall from Ryan’s face and drop to your sides as you sigh, letting your head dip forward slightly.

“What’s his problem?” Ryan murmurs, his frustration mirroring yours as he shoots Aaron a brief, irritated glance before turning his attention back to you.

You lift your head, just enough to meet his eyes again, and mutter, “I don’t know. He’s just—” You wave a hand vaguely behind you. “A hardass.” You pause. “Or an ass. A normal ass. Whichever floats your boat.”

Ryan snorts, nodding as he looks back at Aaron. “Yeah. That tracks.”

You smile, wide and genuine. “Well then,” you say, looking up at him, “duty calls.”

He nods, looking a bit reluctant as he returns your smile and asks, “Will I see you again before you go?”

You hesitate, just for a second, before finally glancing over your shoulder.

Hotch stands by the entrance of the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office — arms crossed, back stiff, jaw tight. His eyes are locked on you like he’s trying to dissect every inch of the moment he just interrupted. He looks furious. Controlled, as always, but furious nonetheless.

You look back at Ryan. “Probably not.”

There’s a brief pause — just a breath of silence — before he nods. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for anything more. Instead, he steps in and kisses your cheek again, soft and quick, like a quiet goodbye. When he pulls back, he lets his hand brush down your arm before stepping away.

You turn without another word, lowering your head as you approach Aaron. With each step, the feeling of his stare on you burns hotter, sharper.

You stop in front of him, standing there for a moment before you glance up.

His blazer is off, his blue button-up clinging slightly to his skin. His sunglasses perched on his nose and his jaw is tight.

You hate yourself for thinking that he looks hot.

You cross your arms, exhaling sharply before saying, “You called?”

He doesn’t waste a second. “Get the scene logs from the officers inside. I want them scanned and uploaded before we leave for the jet.”

His tone is dry, detached. The words hang in the air like a weight that doesn’t match the way he’s looking at you. His expression is stone-cold, all business, and it only fuels the frustration coursing through you.

You blink, your chest tightening. That’s it? That’s the urgent reason he called you out of a kiss like the sky was falling?

It’s a bullshit task. You both know it.

But he’s your Unit Chief. And right now, he’s pulling rank — not for the case. The case is over. Solved.

He’s doing it for himself, and it makes you want to scream.

You bite back the thousand things you want to say, give a tight nod, and walk past him without a glance.

—

On the jet, the tension is unbearable.

Aaron is sitting near the front, a stack of case files spread in front of him that he hasn’t touched since takeoff. He just stares at them, unmoving, like he’s willing them to make him forget.

You’re in the back, headphones on, glaring out the window as your forehead rests against the glass of it.

The others feel it — the tightrope tension stretching across the cabin. No one says a word.

After a while, you can’t help but glance his way, your eyes rolling when you see how he’s glaring at the files in front of him.

He’s clearly seething. The image of you, about to kiss someone else, seemed to be carved into his memory.

If he’d been closer, he might’ve punched the guy. Hell, if he wasn’t so goddamn professional, he might’ve dragged you away himself.

But he didn’t. He waited. He watched.

He hates that he waited.

And now he’s stewing in it.

When the jet lands, everyone moves quickly — eager to escape the static pressure in the air. You stand, grabbing your go-bag before heading for the stairs.

And then — low, sharp, right in front of you:

“Stay.”

He’s still seated, leaning forward slightly, elbow propped on the table. His hand is pressed to his face, fingers buried in his hair while his palm digs into his temple like he’s desperately trying to hold his thoughts together.

His eyes are closed — not from sleep, but something heavier — and despite the jet landing, his papers are still out, strewn in front of him. Clearly, he’d given up trying to read them — or pretending to read them.

His face is taut, shadowed — caught in a quiet storm of exhaustion or thought. Maybe both.

He looks really hot.

Swallowing, you will that thought away.

‘Stay.’ He had said, in a tone that made you freeze — one that left no room for argument.

You hesitate, your grip on your bag tightening a bit as you stare before deciding.

No.

With your lips set in a frown, you start walking again.

Just as you’re about to move past him, though, his hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist.

You tense, his touch making you feel warm and a bit breathless despite your anger.

“I said stay.” His voice cuts through the quiet — steady with an edge that sends a jolt through you.

Shit.

You look down at him, jaw set. “Let go.”

He doesn’t move at first — just lifts his eyes to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. Then he exhales before rising to his feet in a fluid motion. His grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen as he stands over you, shoulders squared.

You falter, thrown by the sudden nearness. “Hotch—”

“Aaron.” He interrupts you, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. His tone is sharp, stern like hearing his last name offended him.

“Hotch.” You repeat it, just to piss him off.

If distance is what he wants, distance is what he’ll get.

He stares at you for a second before exhaling, a tired look in his eyes as he says, “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Your voice rises a bit and you barely manage to hold back a laugh. “You ignore me for weeks, send me off like I’m a problem you can delegate, and now — suddenly — you want to talk?”

His jaw clenches. “You don’t understand—”

“No. You don’t get to—“

Before you can finish what you’re saying, he uses his grip on your wrist to pull you into him. Fuelled by everything he hasn’t said, it’s not a gentle gesture.

You gasp as you stumble forward, crashing into his chest. Your cheek brushes the soft fabric of his shirt and your hand splayed instinctively against him for balance. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s already looking down at you — jaw tense, eyes dark, your faces now inches apart.

“You were going to kiss him.” His voice is quiet, but the words hit harder than if he’d shouted them.

His grip on your wrist tightens slightly, and for a moment, he closes his eyes. The sight of you both leaning in replays in his mind — the tension in his jaw is visible as his lips press into a line. His expression looks as if the image physically hurt him.

When he opens them again, his eyes lock onto yours, searching, checking to see if you understand the severity of it.

Your lips are parted as you stare at him.

You’re not surprised that he brought it up. You knew it was coming, but the way he says it — the weight in his voice — wasn’t something you were expecting.

His words carried an undertone of pain that make you falter. It’s not just about the kiss, you realise. It’s about everything he’s been holding in.

“You were about to kiss him.” He repeats, slower than before, his eyes still boring into yours.

Hearing the word ‘kiss’ a second time, along with the sudden proximity, had your gaze falling to his lips.

You couldn’t help it.

You looked back up quickly to find his eyes still on you.

A flicker of guilt creeps into your chest — something small, unwanted. Maybe it’s the way his voice quietened when he said it. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, like he wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt him — you almost kissing someone else.

For a split second, you start to feel bad.

But it doesn’t last.

Not when you remember the last few weeks — how he’s iced you out, kept his distance like you didn’t matter, like the moments you shared never happened.

Your jaw tightens and your brows furrow in the way they always do when you’re annoyed.

“Stop.” You say, the word sharper than you intended. Shaking your head, your voice comes out quieter the second time. “Just… stop.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you — eyes flicking across your face like he’s trying to read you.

Like he’s trying to profile you.

What happened to never profiling each other? Probably the same thing that happened to being ‘professional’.

“You’re being unfair, Aaron.”

You avert your gaze, unable to hold his anymore. It drops to his chest — the fabric of his shirt stretched a bit beneath your hands that are still resting there. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, slightly faster than it should be.

He has no right to be upset, you think, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud first. But when you look back up at him, your anger catches fire again, sharp and unforgiving.

“You’re the one who pushed me away.” You bite out, voice low. “You iced me out. For weeks, Aaron.”

Your words land heavy in the space between you, but you don’t stop.

“You told me we couldn’t—” You falter slightly, pain catching in your throat, “—that we had to keep things professional. And then you avoided me. You acted like I didn’t matter.”

His jaw flexes again, but he says nothing.

“And now what?” you continue. “Now you’re upset because I almost kissed someone else? You don’t get to pull me in two different directions like this. You can’t tell me to stay away, and then look at me like that when someone else gets close.”

His hand is still on your waist, his grip on your wrist still firm. He hasn’t let go, hasn’t backed off, and that makes it worse — the contradiction of it. The ache of being wanted but not claimed.

“It’s confusing. You’re confusing.” My voice goes back to being quiet as I lower my gaze again, missing the way his expression softens a bit.

It softens because he knows you’re right.

He can’t argue with you, not really. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Or rather, not looking at him at all. Your eyes are fixed on his chest now, lips pressed together in that tight little frown that always means you’re trying not to show how hurt you are.

He can’t argue with you because you’re right.

He’s being unfair, and the guilt of that realization hits him instantly, swallowing him whole. The weight of his own selfishness also sinks in, making him feel stupid for not realizing how much he’s hurt you.

When the silence stretches for too long, you look up, and your frown deepens when you see how he’s watching you.

“Stop profiling me.” Your voice shakes a bit as you try to yank yourself free of his grip. But Aaron doesn’t let go. His hands stay firm on your waist, like letting go would mean losing something he’s not ready to give up.

It only makes you angrier.

You shove at his chest, hard, but he barely budges. “Let go.” you snap, glaring up at him, but his expression doesn’t shift. He just watches you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable behind the shield of his silence.

That silence cuts deeper than anything.

“You ignored me for weeks!” you shout, your voice rising, cracking with something raw. “You didn’t even look at me. You shut me out like I meant nothing!”

You try again to pull away, like his touch burns. Like the heat of his hands is searing through your skin, cracking you open.

And it hurts him — more than he thought it would. Watching you try to escape him like he’s done something unforgivable — which he has — makes something twist in his chest. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how. Every word you throw at him lands like a blow, and still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.

He just hurts.

“Let go!” you yell, louder now, fists balled as you push at him again. “I said fuck off, Aaron!”

You look up at him then — eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger, your frown etched deep into your face. The fury in your expression is undeniable, and it hits him like a punch.

And before he even realizes what he’s doing — he kisses you.

It comes out of nowhere. Like something snaps inside him, like instinct. It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s angry and desperate and messy—like he’s trying to shut you up and apologize all at once. Like everything he’s been holding back has just erupted, too big to contain.

You freeze at first, tensing against it, breath caught in your throat.

But then you break.

Your hands fist in the lapels of his blazer, gripping hard like you need something to hold you upright. Your lips move against his with the same kind of fury you’d just thrown at him — like this is a fight, too. But somewhere in that chaos, your shoulders slump, and so do his.

Like you’re both exhaling for the first time in weeks.

Like this is the first breath either of you has taken since everything fell apart.

His hands move — one, then both — rising to cradle your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You pull back first, breaking the kiss with a gasp, your breath catching somewhere between his mouth and your own. His grip loosens, and for a second, something like a whine escapes him — soft and involuntary — like he can’t believe you’re already pulling away.

You’re breathless. Lips swollen. Heart racing.

“You’re such an asshole.” you hiss, voice low, hoarse, but still furious.

His eyes darken. “You were gonna kiss him.”

“Stop repeating that!” you snap, but there’s no bite behind it now — just exhaustion and heat and emotion so tangled you can’t separate any of it.

You don’t even think about it — you just lean in again, drawn like a magnet. And this time, he meets you halfway. Your lips part just before they touch, and when they do, it feels like the ground shifts beneath you. Like the jet could be spinning or crashing and you wouldn’t even notice.

It’s slower, deeper — but just as intense. His hands are still on your face, and yours are clinging to him like you don’t trust gravity anymore.

But then he pulls away.

His forehead drops to yours — close, so close — and for a moment you almost let him stay there. But something in you twists, and you turn your head just slightly, breaking the contact. You keep your eyes shut, breathing shallow, your face turned toward the wall of the jet like if you don’t look at him, you can hold onto the last piece of your anger.

His heart sinks.

“I’m sorry.” he says, his voice quieter now. Cracked open. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

You don’t move. Don’t look.

“I— I thought it was the right thing.” he says, and now it’s all unraveling, everything he’s shoved down clawing its way out. “I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for you. I didn’t know if I should. So I convinced myself the best thing — the most responsible thing — was to shut it down. To shut you out.”

He lets out a breath, sharp and rough. “I told myself you’d be better off. That you didn’t need someone like me — someone older, someone who barely knows how to process his own shit, let alone drag you into it. My hours are a nightmare, I’m exhausted all the time, and I have nothing to give you except… this mess.”

His voice softens but doesn’t steady. “And if Strauss found out, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull you off the team. To punish you for something that was always my fault.”

You still don’t speak. Your eyes remain closed.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says again, quieter now, like it physically hurts to say. “But it felt like cutting off my own oxygen. Seeing you every day, hearing your voice, pretending you were just another agent — it fucking destroyed me. Every moment I stayed away, I felt like I was unraveling. But I thought… if I could just hold the line a little longer, maybe I could let you go.”

His voice cracks then, barely above a whisper. “But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

You don’t say anything, and the silence eats at him. He shifts slightly, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read anything — any flicker of emotion, of softness, of something.

“Please say something.” he murmurs.

There’s no anger in him anymore. Just regret. Just longing.

“I haven’t slept,” he says, after a second. “Not really. Not since I let you go. You’ve been in my head every day. Every night. You walk into the room and I can’t think straight. I hear your voice down the hall and I forget what I’m doing. It’s pathetic.”

Then gently — cautiously — he reaches out, fingers brushing against your chin. He turns your face to him, coaxing your eyes to his.

And when you look at him, he looks wrecked.

There’s exhaustion in his features, shadows beneath his eyes, but it’s the look in them that breaks you: raw, sincere, desperate. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth right now.

“I’m sorry.” he says again, like it’s the only thing he has left to give. Like he means it with everything he’s got.

And he does.

It’s silent for a second.

His eyes search yours, unsure and a little frantic, like he’s trying to profile you again — trying to get an understanding of whatever’s going on in your mind.

He gives up quickly, wanting to find out whatever it is your thinking from you yourself. But just as he’s about to ask, you kiss him.

When you pull back, your hands stay on him, sliding down to his chest where you can feel the rapid, uneven rhythm of his heart.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Aaron.” you murmur, voice soft but steady. “I’m not. I barely have my own shit together half the time. And I’m not looking for some ideal version of you — just you. The version that cares too much and thinks too hard and carries everything on his back like it’s his job to keep the world spinning.”

You pause, your eyes searching his, and he doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want anyone else.” you say, more firmly now. “I can’t want anyone else. My heart’s already decided. It’s you. It’s always been you. These past few weeks without you—feeling you pull away, watching you pretend like nothing mattered—that was hell. And if you think I just brushed it off and moved on, you really don’t know me at all.”

You don’t stop there, because you can see it — how he’s still doubting, still not sure what you see in him. So you tell him.

“You don’t even realize how much I see you.” you whisper. “How good you are. You’re strong, yeah, but you’re also… unbelievably kind. You’re the one who makes me feel stable when everything else is a mess. You make me feel safe without trying to control me. You make me feel… things I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.”

His brow creases like he doesn’t know what to do with that, like it’s too much, too pure.

“And I don’t give a damn about your age. If anything, it makes you hotter.” you add with a breath of a laugh. “It means you’ve lived, you’ve learned, and you listen. You make me feel taken care of in a way no one ever has.”

He’s blinking at you like his brain short-circuited somewhere along the way.

“As for Strauss…” You shrug a little. “She’s not a profiler. We barely even see her. If we keep things professional at work, we’ll be fine. We’re good at this — at keeping calm under pressure. This isn’t gonna change that.”

Then you take one of his hands and hold it tightly, pressing your fingers to his palm.

“All I want,” you say, voice low, “is for you to let me love you.”

Something in him breaks. Or maybe it mends. You can’t quite tell.

His eyes widen just a little, and for a second he just stares at you — like his brain is still catching up. Like the word punched the breath right out of him.

“What?” he asks, the word so soft it’s barely audible.

“I just want to love you, Aaron.” you repeat, quieter this time, like it’s a promise.

His breath shudders out of him, and he leans forward again — not kissing you yet, just resting his forehead against yours, like he needs the grounding.

“I love you.” he says, the words raw and unfiltered. “And I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you next time — really talk. I won’t shut you out again. I won’t let myself forget what this feels like.”

“You better not.” you murmur.

And then he kisses you again.

It’s steadier now. Certain. Like he’s finally, finally giving in to the truth he’s been denying. Like he knows what he wants — and it’s you.

As your lips move together, the world outside the jet fades into the background. His hand moves slowly, purposefully, down your side, and then it shifts, lowering until he reaches into your pocket.

You pull away a little, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before you can fully process it, he pulls out the small piece of paper — the one with Ryan’s number scrawled on it.

Your heart skips a beat. He saw that?

The thought stings for a second — had he seen everything? You’d assumed he’d stepped outside for some reason and had just happened to catch a glimpse of you two — coincidentally, when you were about to kiss.

But Aaron’s mind works in a different way. He had seen you leave with Ryan, noticed the way you two were talking, the smiles on your faces. And something in him tensed. He didn’t like it. The way you were walking so close, how easy it seemed between you. So he followed, curiosity gnawing at him. He hadn’t meant to — but it felt like he had to know.

You break the silence with a quiet question, still trying to make sense of it all. “You saw that?”

Aaron’s jaw tightens, his face flickering with a flash of frustration, then quickly hardening as he remembers it.

“I saw all of it.” he says, his voice colder than you expected. A wince pulls at his expression as he scrunches the paper up in his hand, turning to toss it in the small bin beside the exit of the jet, the movement sharp and final.

You can’t help but let out a small, amused laugh despite the tension. His reaction, his possessiveness — it’s almost too much to ignore. But then, before he can get too far in his thoughts, you soften and murmur an apology. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He cuts you off with a question of his own, his gaze still intense as he watches you, his tone now a little guarded. “Were you actually going to kiss him?”

You blink, surprised by the bluntness, but you can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. “Hey, you’re the one who paired me with him.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, the hint of frustration fading a little, but you can still see the sharp edge to his expression. “From now on, you’re with me for every case.”

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head, but the joke settles in as you reply, “I don’t think that’d help with keeping Strauss off our trail.”

Aaron chuckles, his eyes softening just a fraction, but he doesn’t back down. “I’ll risk it. It’s fine.”

Your laughter fills the space between you, and it warms Aaron’s heart more than he’d care to admit. He’s missed hearing it, hearing you so carefree, even when things feel a little chaotic.

He pulls you a little closer then, wrapping an arm around your waist as if he can’t let you go now that he’s got you. He starts guiding you off the jet with that same quiet confidence he always carries, but there’s something different now — a sense of peace between you both, even if the world outside still feels a little unsettled.

“You’re coming to my place.” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m making you dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[kxsagi]

hiiii

can u make blue lock boys with a s/o who tries to be as quiet and never really expresses her opinion during an argument, but starts crashing out when she's at home/alone 😛😛

LOVE YOUR WORKS BY THE WAYYYY

"𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐦𝐨 🥀"

a/n: reader is me i fear

AND THANK YOUUUUUU!!!

ft. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, ness alexis, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae

itoshi rin

you and him are both quiet in public, so he thinks you’re twinsies in social apathy. 

“don’t say anything, it’s not worth it,” he mutters. and you nod all calm like “yeah.” 

but when you’re home? OH. 

you throw your bag down like it's a dead body and start barking: “OH MY GOSH IF I HEAR ‘IT’S JUST MY OPINION’ ONE MORE TIME I’M GONNA LAUNCH MYSELF INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC.” 

rin freezes mid sip of water like you just spoke in tongues. “wait. who is this demon i brought into my house.” 

you slam your phone on the bed: “I WISH I COULD FIGHT PEOPLE THROUGH TEXT.” 

rin’s like “you need to go outside.” 

after the third time this happens, he stops letting arguments slide. he just starts solving them ON THE SPOT because he knows if you bottle it up again, he’ll have to survive another 30-minute monologue about some guy who “walked with too much confidence for someone with that haircut.” 

nagi seishiro

does not notice your inner rage until he walks in on you kicking a stuffed animal while whisper-screaming “DIEEEE YOU EGOISTIC PUNK.” 

stands there scratching his head like, “uhhh. you good?” 

you start unloading a rant about a barista who said “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome,” and he’s just watching you like a confused cat. 

“so like… do you want me to fight them? or just listen?” 

you start acting out the entire scene with voice impressions like, “‘next!’ no ma’am, how about NEXT time you respect basic customer service etiquette–” 

nagi goes “damn. that’s kinda fire.” 

starts encouraging it. “yeah babe, get mad. do the voice again. the evil barista one. that’s my favorite.” 

fully believes your rants are better than any anime. once got mad when you didn’t go off. “what do you mean you’re calm today? but i made popcorn.” 

mikage reo

LOVES the duality. 

when you’re being all polite in public, he’s whispering in your ear like “do it. DESTROY THEM. go for the jugular.” 

and you just smile and say, “it’s okay! mistakes happen :)” 

cut to 9:13 PM and you’re in his penthouse pacing like a man possessed. “OH REALLY?? MISTAKES HAPPEN?? THEN LET ME MISTAKE-FULLY THROW A CHAIR AT YOU.” 

reo is wheezing. he’s filming you. adding background music. making edits. 

he even starts giving you imaginary awards like, “ladies and gentlemen… BEST DRAMATIC RANT OF THE YEAR GOES TO–” 

you once threatened to fight a man for wearing flip-flops indoors and reo started crying from laughter. 

wants to get you on reality TV. he thinks your angry alter ego could win a whole season without leaving camp. 

karasu tabito

absolutely lives for your inner beast. 

in public, you’re all quiet and sweet and he’s like, “she’s such a lil angel 🥰” 

but then later he hears you go “I WILL DIG HIS FUTURE, PRESENT, AND PAST SELF OUT OF EXISTENCE,” and he’s like “NEVERMIND. SHE’S A DEMON.” 

laughs his ass off while you’re slamming cabinet doors. 

you’re like “this is why his hairline is running away from his eyebrows. IDIOT.” 

karasu: “BAAAAABEEE PLEASEEEE 😭😭” 

starts intentionally causing mild public inconveniences just so he can watch the rant later. “oops, i accidentally knocked over her coffee. oops, someone cut in line.” 

this man is sick. he’s got a NOTES APP of your most iconic lines. 

ness alexis

absolutely terrified the first time he sees it. 

you’re sweet and reserved in public, but then later you’re storming around your bedroom like: “NOOOO BECAUSE I HELD BACK SO MUCH– IF I HAD A SHOVEL AND DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY I WOULD HAVE–” 

ness pokes his head in like “h-hey baby, you okay–” 

“SHHHH I’M MID RANT.” 

man shuts the door like he just walked in on a crime scene. 

now he just peeks in with snacks and goes “you want emotional support chocolate? ice cream? maybe a hug and a punching bag?” 

scared you might start roasting HIM one day, so he starts keeping receipts just in case you snap and go “REMEMBER WHEN YOU ATE MY FRIES THAT ONE HUMID NIGHT.” 

but also? kinda proud. 

“she may be quiet… but she’s a warrior. just needs a private arena to unleash the fury. maybe a rage room is better.” 

isagi yoichi

during arguments, you're standing there looking like the human version of an unsalted cracker. 

"it’s fine. no big deal,” you whisper, while isagi is next to you mentally going, “she’s soooo cool under pressure omg she’s my strong silent queen 😩” 

WRONG. 

10 minutes after y’all get home, you’re in the kitchen like: “NO BECAUSE IF HE BREATHED ANY LOUDER I WAS GONNA STUFF A SOCK DOWN HIS THROAT–” 

you're mimicking the whole conversation, hands on your hips, pacing like a mom yelling about bad report cards. 

isagi is watching from the couch like it’s a documentary. “so this is what she’s like when the polite filter turns off…” 

you throw a fork across the sink and go “AND ANOTHER THING!!” 

he flinches. “another thing??? there’s MORE???” 

now he straight up brings popcorn to your post-argument breakdowns. even got a playlist for it: ‘angry girlfriend showtime vol.3’ 

kaiser michael

he thinks you're classy. elegant. above it all. 

like, “oh wow, my girlfriend doesn’t even need to raise her voice, she wins arguments with a look.” 

yeah well. wait until he hears you alone in the kitchen popping off like it’s an unscripted drama. 

“THEY WANNA PLAY STUPID GAMES? THEN THEY BETTER BE READY FOR STUPID PRIZES–” 

kaiser peeks around the corner like 👁️👄👁️ “who… the hell… are you???” 

you’re out here holding a hairbrush like a mic, screaming at the air. “AND ANOTHER THING: WHAT TYPE OF NAME IS THAT ANYWAY. SOUNDS LIKE A YOGURT FLAVOR.” 

he deadass chokes on his mineral water. 

he’s torn between fear and admiration. 

“i’m dating someone who bottles rage like champagne and explodes behind closed doors. incredible. terrifying.” 

but don’t get it twisted, he starts triggering it for sport. 

he’ll say some dumb shit like, “maybe they were right, you were being a little sensitive,” and then stand back like he just lit a firecracker. 

kaiser 10 minutes later, filming you storming around the room with full captions and a laugh filter: “and this, my friends, is why i never cheat. she’d destroy me in 7 dimensions.” 

shidou ryusei 

he’s the exact opposite of you. 

like, in the moment of confrontation, he's already taking off his shirt and saying “let's settle this in the PARKING LOT.” 

and you’re just there holding his sleeve like, “let’s not… it’s okay…” 

“no, it’s not okay, babe. i saw the micro-expression on your face. you wanted blood. i could feel it.” 

“nah ryu, i’m chill.” 

cut to 12 minutes later when you two get home and you’re doing WWE monologues in the mirror like: “IF I WAS BUILT DIFFERENT, HE WOULDN’T HAVE TEETH RIGHT NOW.” 

shidou walks in halfway through and SCREAMS. 

“OH MY GOSH YOU DO WANT VIOLENCE. BITCH I’M SO TURNED ON.” 

now he purposely instigates people in public just to see if it’ll get you to crack. 

“watch this babe, i’m gonna push his buttons.” 

you remain silent. 

later that night though: “he was chewing with his mouth open, and i swear to the heavens, ryu, i almost inhaled a fork just to end it all–” 

“I KNEW IT. I KNEW YOU WERE A FERAL LITTLE BEAST.” 

itoshi sae

this man is ICE COLD. he barely talks in arguments and honestly, he thought your silence was just... normal. 

“hm. she’s like me. emotionally done with everyone.” 

but BOY was he mistaken. 

the first time he catches you mid-breakdown, it’s because he walks in early from practice and hears something like: “NO BECAUSE IF SHE BREATHES NEAR ME AGAIN I’M GONNA CALL THE IRS ON HER.” 

sae freezes in the hallway like you just summoned a demon. 

you’re pacing in socks and a hoodie, dragging a blanket around like a cape, arms flailing as you imitate every dumb sentence said during the earlier argument. 

“‘i didn’t mean it that way’ THEN IN WHAT WAY DID YOU MEAN IT?? TELEPATHICALLY???” 

sae just turns around and leaves the room. comes back three minutes later with a drink. 

“so we’re doing this now? okay. continue.” 

literally just sits there while you explode, nodding like it’s a business meeting. 

“mhm. right. yeah she was dumb.” 

but later in bed when you’re calm, he’ll whisper: “you know you scared me a little back there. but… kinda hot.” 

you look at him. “i blacked out. what did i say?” 

“something about mailing someone’s eyebrows to the moon.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason

Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.

Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.

And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.

So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.

~~~~~

Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.

~~~~~

Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.

~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?

Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.

Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.

Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.