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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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I watched it begin again

Chapter 4 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Reader runs into Spencer again a few weeks later!

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~1800

It was a few weeks later before you ran into Spencer again, literally. You stopped at the grocery store on your way home to pick up some snacks for the binge-watching you were planning for your evening. As you placed the third dessert item in your cart, you turned the corner and ran straight into something- no, someone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed as you reached for the popcorn you had knocked out of his hands. “Let me get that for you.” As you stood back up, something about the scuff marks on this man’s converse reminded you of someone.

“Hi Y/N.” You finally manage to compose yourself and hand him the popcorn before stuttering out a greeting in return. Spencer glances at your cart before asking, “planning a party?”

“What? Oh! No, I just had a kind of long day and I wanted to go home and hide from the world while indulging in some sugary treats.” A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you realize you just admitted the multitude of foods in your cart are in fact all for you. “I couldn’t decide what to get, so I figured a little bit of everything would solve the problem.” You laughed awkwardly as you try to explain your cart. It looks as though a three year old had free rein.

“Trust me, I understand.” Spencer laughed with you. “I always have something sweet nearby. I am definitely known to have a sweet tooth.”

“Oh, well would you care to join me?” You instantly froze when you realized what you said. You aren’t normally so forward. “I could use a friend.” You add on in hopes of diffusing the growing tension.

“Um, yeah I’ll, uh, I’ll join you.” Spencer is rubbing the back of his neck as you begin walking through the store.

“Great! You can pick the ice cream flavor!” You turned and started walking before you could come up with something even more awkward to say.

You pick out a few more sweet treats before paying for your groceries and heading to your car. Spencer says he will meet you at your place after he helps you load the groceries into the trunk.

15 minutes later, you’ve returned home and put the groceries that need to be kept cold away. You move everything else to the coffee table so you and Spencer can reach whatever you want easily.

You are reaching up to get some bowls for the ice cream when you hear a knock on your door. You glance through the peephole just to make sure it is Spencer before swinging the door open with a grin. “Welcome to the sweetest apartment in the building!” The two of you laugh as you close and lock the door.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” You aren’t sure what to say now that he’s actually in your apartment. You don’t have the same barriers you had last time. You are both perfectly sober and neither one of you just went through a massive breakup. “Yeah, sure”

“Got any preference?” You ask as you look through the available movies on Netflix and Hulu. “Oh, uh, no you can pick.” Great, you hate making decisions.

After a slightly awkward few minutes filled with overanalyzing your movie choices, you finally decide on Mr. and Mrs. Smith because it had a bit of a comedy, action, and romance. “Well, dig in!” You don’t know how else to start the conversation as you rip open a zebra cake, offering Spencer the second one in the bag. He smiles at you as he takes it, easing the tension in the room.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you both watch the movie. You find yourself sneaking glances at Spencer whenever you really want to see his reaction to a certain scene. You can’t really tell if he’s enjoying it, but he has laughed a few times.

A half hour into the movie, you decide you want some ice cream. “I’m going to go change and grab some ice cream. Want any?”

“Oh, yes please” Spencer sounds slightly surprised at your sudden question, but you just walk into your room to find some pajamas. You slip on some shorts and a t-shirt pulling on a pair of fluffy socks as you make your way back into the kitchen to get the ice cream. You decide just to bring the two bowls, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles with you so Spencer can add his own toppings.

You somehow manage to balance everything as you walk back over to the couch. You are so focused on not dropping the sprinkles that you don’t notice Spencer has been staring at you since you exited your room. He blinks a few times as you set down the toppings exclaiming “it’s a build your own Sunday bar” as you hand him a bowl and a spoon. You sit back down on the couch, closer than before since you need to reach the toppings.

“Can you pass me the whipped cream?” Butterflies form in your stomach as your hand brushes his.

“Whipped cream as we know it today was invented by Charles Getz in the 1930s. Of course, hand whipped cream can be dated back to the 16th century. They would use tree or bush branches as a whisk to incorporate air into the cream.” You could listen to Spencer ramble for the rest of your life.

You smile at him while you squirt enough whipped cream to completely cover the ice cream and then some. You look up to see Spencer staring. Quickly, you look away and hand him the whipped cream. “Sorry, I just really like whipped cream.”

“No, you don’t need to apologize! I’m just happy.” A confused look forms on your face as you look back, urging him to continue. “I, uh, I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to be yourself with me. Most people wouldn’t have even admitted this was their plan for the night. I’m happy that you invited me to join you. I absolutely love sugar.”

“I’m happy that you’re here too. Who else would provide me with unending knowledge about all the sugary treats?” You laugh as you grab the whipped cream, pointing it at him like a weapon. “Now, tell me who invented chocolate or prepare for the consequences!”

Spencer puts his hands up in mock surrender as he rambles on about chocolate. “Chocolate dates back to 450 B.C.. The Aztecs believed that cacao seeds were the gift of Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom, and the seeds once had so much value that they were used as a form of currency. Originally prepared only as a drink, chocolate was served as a bitter liquid, mixed with spices or corn puree. It was believed to be an aphrodisiac and to give the drinker strength. Today, such drinks are also known as "Chilate" and are made by locals in the South of Mexico. After its arrival to Europe in the sixteenth century, sugar was added and it became popular throughout society, first among the ruling classes and then among the common people. In the 20th century, chocolate was considered essential in the rations of United States soldiers during war.” He finished his ramble with a slight smile and a nod.

You are so taken with his ramblings that you can’t form a response. In a panic, you decide to spray him anyway. Whipped cream goes flying all over the place as he flails in surprise. “Gotcha!” You shriek as he grabs the can and turns it on you. “Not fair, I answered your question! Now you have to answer mine.” He stops to think for a second before asking, “What language is the word dessert derived from?”

“Now that’s not fair! You are a literal genius. I run a book store.” Spencer laughs at your feeble attempt to protest. “Just answer the question.”

“Fine, ummmm, Latin?” You are completely guessing and by the smirk growing on his face, you are not correct.

“Nope.” He says popping the p. “French!” You grins even wider as he sprays the whipped cream, landing some on your face despite you trying to block it with your hands.

“Damn, I guess this is only fair.” You say rolling your eyes. He just stares at you in response, his mouth falling open just enough to be noticeable. Right as you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he reaches over and brushes the whipped cream off your face. Before he can reach a napkin, you grab his hand. Pulling it toward you, you wrap your mouth around his fingers, licking all the whipped cream.

You have no idea what possessed you to do that, but instantly you are trying to back track. “Can’t waste any whipped cream!” The two of you had gotten much closer together throughout your whipped cream battle. Close enough that you can look into his warm hazel eyes.

He leans closer whispering “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Something in his voice spurs you on. You whisper back “you have some on your nose.”

Leaning impossibly closer, in an uncharacteristic show of bravery he replies “you better take care of that seeing as it’s your fault” in an equally hushed tone.

You reach up and steady his face with your hands, leaning in to lick the whipped cream off his nose with a slight kiss. Your face flushes as you look into his eyes. You don’t know if you’re moving or he is but you are shifting closer and closer.

The sound of explosions break the moment as you both jump back and shift your gaze to the television. “You know, neither one of these two would make a good profiler if they couldn’t tell that their spouse was an assassin.” You laugh at how matter-of-fact that statement was, the moment on the couch drifting to the back of your mind.

“You’re probably right.” You don’t know what to do with your hands anymore, so you pick up your ice cream. He pulls you back onto the couch and the two of you lean into each other as you eat and finish the movie.

Two hours later, the two of you are falling asleep on the couch. After the movie ended, you put on random episodes of Parks and Rec. You finished eating and turned off the lights about 45 minutes ago under the ruse that you can see the tv better without the lights. You’ve been talking to each other pretty much nonstop as the episodes play in the background. Nothing too big, just random information about your lives. Your eyes fall shut, yet again, encouraging you to go to bed, but you don’t want the night to end. He seems to feel the same way, and the two of you fall asleep on the couch wrapped up in each other’s arms.

tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Non-Jewish friends, y’all might be wondering right now: Israel is doing clearly unacceptable shit to Palestinians. So, why are some Jews ardent Zionists, and why do some Jews seem to feel personally attacked by criticism of Israel?

A lot of (non-Palestinian) non-Jews have asked me where I stand on Israel/Palestine over the years, apropos of nothing, just because I’m Jewish. For the longest time I felt so stuck because I just didn’t know much about Israel/Palestine and what little I did know turned out to be largely misinformation and I felt so much pressure to say The Correct Thing That All Jews Should Say About This Issue. Obviously the violence Israel is committing against Palestinians is horrific and the interpersonal weirdness individual Jews might experience as people discuss Israel’s horrific violence doesn’t compare. I’m making this post as a small supplement to the important conversations going on about what Israel is doing to Palestinians in East Jerusalem, Gaza, and the West Bank, as well as Palestinian citizens of Israel and Palestinian refugees and their descendants living outside land Israel controls. I’m making this post because non-Jews might be feeling confused by conflicting messages about Zionism as either settler colonialism or Jewish self-determination. It sucks feeling like you have to choose only one oppressed group or another. It’s possible to support Palestinian liberation and Jewish liberation at the same time! Here’s some context that might help.

Palestinian friends will probably want to ignore this post, y’all shouldn’t have to deal with your oppressors’ feelings, and especially not right now.

Zionism is the ideology behind the devastating violence Israel is committing against Palestinians right now and has been committing against Palestinians since 1947-48. It’s heartbreaking and messy to talk about this reality, because Zionism originated as a strategy to protect Jews from antisemitism.

Any oppressed group can turn into oppressors under enough pressure, because humans are flawed. Jews fleeing antisemitism turning into Israelis ethnically cleansing Palestinians happened because Zionism is profoundly influenced by its time and place of origin: 19th century Europe.

Europe invented antisemitism, and basically every European country has done at least one very very bad structural antisemitism, like expelling all the country's Jews (the monarch and/or the church then stole all the wealth the expelled people had to leave behind), looking the other way when peasants murdered a bunch of Jews as an outlet for their frustration with the actual (non-Jewish) ruling class, banning Jews from owning property or holding certain jobs or being members of guilds etc, and of course the big horrific state-sponsored mass-murder operations the Inquisition and the Holocaust. From the 1790s through the 19th century different European governments emancipated their Jews, ie removed legal barriers to full citizenship and economic participation. But this didn't end antisemitism. Just like the legal improvements of the 19th and 20th centuries didn't end antiblackness in the United States.

Also happening in this time: nationalism swept Europe. From the French Revolution through the end of World War I, Europe’s predominant form of government transformed from multiethnic empires to nation-states, countries led by and for a particular ethnic group.

So this Austro-Hungarian dude Theodor Herzl came up with this idea for Jewish nationalism. Every other European ethnic group is getting their own country, so why not Jews? Maybe this is the solution to antisemitism! Maybe we’ll finally be safe if we just all move en masse out of Europe to a place that will take all of us and never expel us!

But also also happening in Europe and around the world in this time: European imperialism and white supremacist settler colonialism. Chattel slavery saw its height and then its end (legally, at least) during this era, but white supremacy entrenched itself across the planet in post-slavery economic practices and cultural imperialism as well as national and international laws.

I believe countries have a moral obligation to take in as many refugees as they can squeeze in. International law protecting refugees has evolved a lot over the past century, but we’re still devastatingly far from every refugee getting a safe place to call home, and the main reason for that is white supremacy. The Biden administration didn’t undo the Trump administration’s horrifically low cap on refugees until like last week and it’s because Democratic party leaders treat centrist white people as more valuable voters than the huge and growing numbers of people of color, immigrants, LGBT people, unmarried women, and working class people who want to vote for elected leaders who get that nobody’s free until we’re all free. Ahem. Back to the topic at hand, the US and many other countries turned away untold numbers of refugees fleeing the fucking Holocaust, so odds are slim they’d be more welcoming in less desperate times. Moving from places where Jews are an unwanted minority to places where Jews are still a minority and either still unwanted or little understood and unlikely to win revolutionary levels of support from a largely non-Jewish public seems like a bad plan.

In the mid to late 19th century, lots of Jews took the kernel of Zionism and ran with it in different directions. Maybe this ideology could mean Jewish cultural flourishing alongside stronger political/economic integration into the societies where we’re already living! Maybe it could mean a particular kind of socialism that advocates for the liberation of Jews both as Jews and as workers! Maybe it could mean a revitalization of Jewish religious practice both in Jerusalem where we have important heritage sites and everywhere we live across the world!

Eventually Herzl’s vision of Zionism won out over the others: Jewish nationalism in the sense of a Jewish nation-state, a country that has a Jewish demographic majority and/or that legally privileges Jews over non-Jews.

Problem is, if you want to do that, you have to find a piece of land on which to do it, and Earth was already a pretty crowded place a hundred years ago. Many locations were considered, and the one that ended up winning that debate was Palestine. Where a shit ton of people, mostly non-Jews, were already living. They were forming their own nationalist movement at the time: in the waning days of the Ottoman Empire they began to organize for local self-determination in Palestine.

The Herzl types who developed Zionism as an ideology and built institutions to advocate for and create a Jewish ethnostate in Palestine were a small subset of European Jews, mostly men, mostly with significant economic privilege within what Jews were able to achieve in their particular societies at the time. They were just as Orientalist as the non-Jews around them, just as antiblack, just as racist generally for all that Jews were (and sometimes still are) considered non-white in much of Europe. They had a cool idea (put a lot of effort into something that could protect Jews from antisemitism) floating in a bathtub full of shit, and they did practically nothing to protect the cool idea from absorbing that shit. Results of this include thinking about the millions of people already living in Palestine as if they were either like the rocks and the trees that will go with the flow and accept a new ruling class, or indistinct Arabs who would just leave for other Arab countries because what could be the difference — in the staggeringly small amount of time they considered the existing residents of Palestine at all.

This racist hand-waving extended to Zionist leaders’ attitudes about Jews outside Europe as well. White Jews in settler colonies like the US were largely anti-Zionist at the time (not wanting their own countries to accuse them of dual loyalty was a common reason) but European Zionist leaders took what help they could get from Jews in the US, South Africa, Australia, etc. Jews across the Middle East and North Africa, however, barely heard from Zionist leaders about any of this until Zionist militias had removed enough Palestinians from the land and it was time to repopulate it with whichever Jewish bodies were convenient. You might have heard "all the Arab countries expelled their Jews in 1948" but lots of first-person accounts tell a different story of Israel coercing Jews who’d lived securely for a long time in places like Morocco to immigrate to Israel and then confiscating their passports and forcing them to live on less-fertile land with fewer resources while serving as a buffer between Palestinians and European Jewish immigrants. Ella Shohat is the best-known writer on Israeli racism against non-European Jews and I strongly recommend Sephardim in Israel: Zionism from the Perspective of Its Jewish Victims as a starting point to learn more about this.

Which brings us to today. We still haven’t eradicated antisemitism, several European governments that did a lot of structural antisemitism they still haven’t made meaningful reparations for get to feel good about themselves for “giving the Jews a state” as if carving up the former Ottoman Empire was up to them and not the people who lived there, and millions of people across the world who previously either lived peacefully enough alongside Jews or hadn’t really thought about us much at all now have very valid reasons to be pissed at this country that claims it represents all of us.

Zionism was supposed to protect Jews from antisemitism. And Israel has saved Jewish lives! But if we hadn’t sunk the past 70+ years into an ethnostate we could’ve been putting that energy into other political and economic activity to create adequate international support for refugees while we work on ending root causes of refugee crises, like antisemitism, racism, climate change, and capitalism. Meanwhile Zionism has killed, maimed, incarcerated, stolen from, traumatized, and erased the history of millions of Palestinians just because they happened to be living on land that some dudes who had a lot more in common with Thomas Jefferson and Donald Trump than with you or me decided needed to be cleansed for a Jewish ethnostate.

White nationalists in the US love Israel because they want American Jews to go away. Fascist leaders across Europe love Israel for the same reason, so much so that Israel’s prime minister is buddy-buddy with Trump and the equivalent shitstains of several European far-right parties. And I don’t know what it’s like in other white supremacist countries that are close allies of Israel, but the overwhelming majority of Zionist lobbying that pushes the US to give so much aid to Israel comes from Evangelical Christians, because they believe all the Jews have to be in the Holy Land for Jesus to come back. No thanks.

This whole thing fucking sucks. Jews and Palestinians, like all human beings, deserve to be free. Many Jews are understandably afraid of what might happen next if Israel decided to give up on ethnonationalism, allow Palestinian refugees to return, make reparations, and establish a pluralistic democracy that represents and protects all its residents — will some Palestinians murder Jews in revenge? That’s genuinely fucking scary. And it’s genuinely fucking scary to be a Palestinian in Israel/Palestine, and has been for over 70 years. We’ve gotta do something different. I say that as a white person sitting on land stolen from Piscataway people who has thought in detail about what portion of my income would be reasonable for my government to tax in order to fund reparations for the descendants of enslaved people.

Ok. One final piece of context before I wrap this up.

Most Jewish institutions in the US are explicitly Zionist, teach children that Zionism is THE way to ensure Jewish safety, and increasingly tell non-Zionist Jews that we're unwelcome or even that we’re not “real” Jews. This comes in a context where it’s only been 76 years since the latest and most gruesome of several attempts to wipe our entire people off the face of the planet. If you grew up in that environment, you, too, might be jumpy about even hearing the words Zionism or Israel, let alone considering the devastation this ideology and country have caused Palestinians.

Jews have a right to exist. Jews have a millennia-old connection to this scrap of land in the Levant, and we have a right to access religiously and culturally important geographic landmarks. What we don't have a right to is murdering or expelling other people in order to make an ethnostate, on that land or any other. Zionism is settler colonialism, but it’s settler colonialism by and for people who have a valid need for protection from structural antisemitism, which means that it’s going to take a lot of messy empathy to undo. The members of my extended family who voted for Trump (non-Jews in my case, though Jared Kushner isn’t the only Jewish Trumpite) are afraid that ending white supremacy will demote them from a privileged class to equal footing with everyone else — that’s the kind of fear individuals work on in therapy, not the kind that’s reasonable for a whole society to prevent from happening. I and millions of Jews do deserve for whole societies to work hard to end antisemitism.

I would never and will never ask a Palestinian to gently request their liberation. But if you’re not Palestinian, and you’ve got a little extra empathy to spare this week, I ask you to remember what I’ve shared here when interacting with Jews about Israel/Palestine.

If you’re a fellow Jew reading this and you feel like Israel is the only way to guarantee our safety, all I ask of you is to sit with the idea that what Israel is doing to Palestinians is too high a cost for safety that’s still not guaranteed, and start to imagine real-world ways we can protect our people from antisemitism without an ethnostate.

I made this post for people who know me (or know of me I guess?) in Old Guard and Cap fandom, despite my better judgment, because talking about Jewish Booker and Jewish Bucky and Jewish Natasha makes me so happy and I think some of the people I love on these characters with might appreciate this perspective. I didn’t provide any links in this post on purpose (to decrease its usefulness, so fewer people will reblog it) because the risk of anon hate when talking about Zionism outside my immediate fandom circles is so high. You’re welcome to reblog this post if you find it helpful! Unless you’re not within a few concentric circles of me, in which case, maybe don’t? If seeing this post makes you want to send me anon hate, no need: many people who share your perspective have already done so on Twitter.

Reliable sources on all this info are a few googles away, and I apologize for the things I know I oversimplified as well as any things I might have misremembered. I’m an American who’s never lived in Israel/Palestine who is posting this on my fandom blog.

TL;DR: This is a short ‘n pithy post about the same idea.

TL;DR, fandom edition: The shortest distillation of this anti-Zionist Jew’s feelings on the matter can be found in segment 4 of Five Times Booker Got Wasted on Purim and One Time He Didn’t.

#palestinian liberation #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it #and yet #here we are #long post #mine #antisemitism #settler colonialism #racism #european imperialism #genocide cw

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silma-words · 3 years

Note

Another prompt for Adrian and MC...

Number 5 / "say please"

not sure how you want to take this one, but I thought the smut could be next level... have fun! 😂

N/A: Omg I cannot thank you enough for this prompt @mssukeyna! This was so much fun, and a great prompt to push me a little out of my comfort zone! I literally woke up 2h earlier every day so that I could write more before work ;) I hope you’ll like it!

~~~~~

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Explicit (NSFW, 18+)

Genre: Smut.Smut.Smut

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – ‘Inevitable - Arc I: Before we part’ (Masterlist)

Summary: “We are travelling for business, Ellie, we’ll have to behave like professionals”, he had warned her, although he did not look so convinced about it himself….

Inspired by the following nsfw-prompts: #5. for sex in public / “say please”

Words: 4200

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down to business (Part I?)

Getting to travel was one of the perks Ellie enjoyed the most about her job as the CEO’s personal assistant. She never really had any opportunity to get out of her small town before she moved to NYC, and had always been of a curious nature. This job was a dream come true on that matter. But some trips were better than others. The ones that revolved around business negotiations, although exciting in their own ways, were not her favourites. By far, the ones she preferred were the ones that were meant for networking, for Adrian to maintain his relationships with previous business partners. There had not been many of those since she had started working at Raines Corp. but she loved those very much. These business trips revolved mostly around socializing. And socializing was one of her strengths.

But the reason she liked these trips the most was not because of the fancy dinner parties, the pricey hotels, or the designer dresses she got to wear to play the part. No. What she liked the most were the times she could have to herself in between social events, to explore around and satiate her curiosity about ‘the rest of the world’, and the times when she could get Adrian all to herself. He was more relaxed during these trips. More light hearted. More playful. As well as more tuned to her cues than when they were travelling for more serious business. And that, she loved to play around with. A lot.

Adrian was always doing his best to keep up the façade of the boss-assistant interactions between them when they were in public. And she completely understood why. Truly. But that was also so tempting for her to do her best to weave her way through that invisible barrier he was tentatively setting between them.

She would brush his fingers when he would hand her a drink. Sneak a hand up his thigh under the table at dinner. Fiddle with her long strands of hair to attract his attention to her neckline. Oh, his poker face was good. Spot on. Decades of practice truly paying off. But whenever she played her cards well, she could see that façade slowly crumble down. His cheeks slightly changing colour as she would whisper sweet - well maybe not so sweet - nothings to his ear. His Adam’s apple moving slightly at the sight of her legs shifting as she would change position on her seat, her skin exposed through the slit of her dress. His speech suddenly stammering slightly as she would slowly caress the inside of his calf with her foot, whenever she had been sitting across from him at dinner and had felt bold enough to risk reaching blindly under the cover of the table cloth.

She always made sure to keep her face composed so that the other guests would not notice how Adrian’s reactions were directly connected to her. But she would also cast him a challenging look as soon as the moment had passed, to make it perfectly clear that the game was on. And never once had she received back any kind of response that would indicate that Adrian was not on board with this. He might play the game by pretending that this behaviour was totally unprofessional, but they both knew that Adrian had never been anyone who cared much about the rules.

This time, their ‘socialising trip’ had led them further from home than ever before. Ellie was finally given the chance to fly out of the country and get a glimpse at Europe, with their first stops leaving her in awe at the wonders of the Italian countryside where they had stayed for five days to catch up with a couple of Adrian’s old ‘friends’ who had chosen to retire there. She did enjoy the socializing parts way more than she had anticipated: who would have dared to complain about the exquisite cuisine, the tours of the vineyards, the breath-taking views over lakes and mountains, and the luxurious guestrooms they could discreetly retreat to when the schmoozing was getting boring and the yearning had become too much.

The last part of their ten-days trip had also reached beyond of her expectations: she had always dreamt of discovering France, and although their journey would not grant her her secret wish of seeing Paris, she found out that the luxurious hills and valleys of the South-West of France were as equally magnificent as what she had seen so far over the last few days. There was so much history around, old medieval castles and ancient caves that she wished she could explore, that her curiosity and excitement seemed to be only matched by Adrian’s nerdy enthusiasm. European history was not necessarily his strongest suit, but he did know quite a few things about it, and gladly shared with her his knowledge about the places they travelled through. His expertise on French wines was definitely spot on though. And kind of sexy too.

Their guest was – unsurprisingly – a wealthy investor who had inherited a prosperous estate from his great-grandfather who was, originally, the business partner Adrian had been trading with at the beginning of the twentieth-century. Pretending to be his own descendant was apparently something Adrian was quite used to. Even though their current host – Emile – was pretty obnoxious.

They dined, visited local investors, attended a couple of art exhibitions grand opening nights. And indulged on wine, local delicacies, and smouldering gazes in between polite handshakes and casual conversations. Ellie’s French was not really up to the challenge when other guests could not speak English, but luckily Adrian was doing quite well in that department – another sexy trait to add to that very long list that Ellie kept filling up in her head.

That night, their host had been planning a special treat for his guests – Adrian and Ellie among a larger group of about thirty: a tour of his private ‘art collection’, followed by a fancy garden-party on his estate. Ellie had been looking forward to it, until the tour had started and she had realised that most of these ‘pieces of art’ were actually ancient remains that Emile had bought from lucky ‘discoverers’ around the world and snatched from the hands of archaeologists and museums to fill up his own little private gallery. As the tour was going on, she kept grumbling by Adrian’s side, drawing the attention of a few other guests that were marvelling at these stolen relics and obviously did not care much about how these had been acquired. As the group proceeded to move on to the next room, Adrian discreetly motioned her to move aside and slow her pace, grinning at her once they had managed to place themselves at the tail of the touring group.

“I know this is grating you, but this is quite a common thing these days – there is no point sulking about it now while there is not much we can do about it”.

“You’re the one to talk, ‘Mr-I-glare-at-that-old-British-dude-for-buying-an-original-John Trumbull-canvas-to-decorate-his-guestroom’!”, she retorted challengingly. “These objects are as important to historians as those Revolutionary War paintings you keep talking about. They shouldn’t be kept in here only to be displayed once a year to a bunch of rich morons who care more about how much he paid for it than about what these objects were”.

“I know, I know…” Adrian admitted with a sight, raising his hands in surrender. “But as I said, there is not much we can do about it now. Let try to survive through this tour and enjoy the night.”

Rolling her eyes, Ellie let out an annoyed sight and finally nodded, her tensed shoulders still betraying her frustration.

The tour proceeded, Adrian and Ellie sharing eye rolls and annoyed looks every time Emile would brag about the price of a unique item. They always kept behind when they could, making a point of looking at some of the glass panels in detail to at least try to learn a little something out of this display of wealth. But that revealed to be a nearly impossible endeavour. There was barely any labels or information attached to these objects whatsoever. Nothing there to keep them distracted from that never ending tour. Well. Apart from each other.

It started with just the tingle of his breath in her neck as he was hovering above her to look at an old grease-lamp from some ancient cave. And then continued as she would casually hook her arm through his while staring at the antic statue of a Roman god. And a brush of his fingers down her spine as he stood behind her pretending to listen to Emile’s dull blabber. Her hand sneaking along the side of his thigh as they followed the group around. The light pressure of his hand on her lower back as he led her to move past him into yet another room.

Pretending to pay attention to their host was increasingly difficult. Preventing their faces from betraying their very unprofessional thoughts even more so.

“I know I have said this before but…”, Adrian whispered in her ear, a playful smile forming on his lips, “I love that little tempter of yours… it makes me feel… a lot of things”.

He could hear Ellie’s heartbeat race in her chest at his words, even though she was keeping her eyes trained on the display panel before them, doing her best to keep her composure while the predatory tone in his voice was making her knees tremble slightly. The other guests were buzzing around them, pointing at glass display cases here and architectural features there, oblivious to the heat surrounding the two secret lovers as if the bubble Adrian and Ellie had formed around them had turned them into two of those trinkets exposed around the room that nobody was truly paying attention to.

Trying to break through the thick air that had been lingering between them, Ellie shifted on her heels to follow the flock of people that were regrouping to move along, casting a knowing smile at Adrian, and holding his gaze for a few seconds before walking away.

But before she could turn left into the next corridor, she felt his arm wrap around her middle, only to swiftly whoosh her aside to a secluded corner of the room, out of sight from the rest of the group thanks to one of the strong pillars that supported the roof of the exhibition room. A gasp escaped her lips as he sprung her around, pressing her back against the cold marble as he eagerly captured her lips in a searing kiss, his hands pressed against her neck, and his torso edging closer to her chest as she was gradually yielding to his powerful embrace.

Trailing her fingers up his neck until they reached his hair, she eventually gave a gentle tug so that she could make a break for air, their lips just a few inches apart as she teased, breathless: “I thought we had to keep our public appearances strictly professional, Mr Raines?”

She felt his grin against her mouth more than she could see it. “Well, what we are doing now is purely professional, Miss Reed. If there was anyone left around to see us, I’d just explain how I was telling all about...” he paused to nibble at her lower lip for a few seconds, “... about the sturdiness of these eighteenth-century pillars...”.

“Eighteenth century, han?” she giggled against his lips, her voice catching in her throat to form a silent moan as Adrian’s mouth began to trail down her chin to follow her jawline.

Her mind struggling between the will to keep her eyes open to check that no one was in sight, and the tantalizing swirls of his tongue against the skin beneath her ear, the shivers that were running down her spine quickly sorted that battle for her. She let her eyelids drop and her head fall back to rest against the stone behind her, focusing only on Adrian’s touch and on the way his hands had now started to drift from her neck to her shoulders, inching lower and lower as his mouth tasted the salt of the skin down her neck and along her collarbone.

Her hands unconsciously travelling from his hair to his back, they suddenly grabbed his shoulders a little tighter to press him closer as she felt him reach for the fabric of her dress to bunch the black silk over her hips. It took all of her will to remain silent when Adrian wedged his knee between her legs, her lips tightening in a thin line to repress a whimper as his fingers trailed down one of her thigh to her knee so he could lift her leg up against his hip, pressing himself forward to conquer the empty space between them.

She could feel his grin against her windpipes when her hips started to grind against his of their own accord, the tight grip of his fingers against her rear sending waves of heat down to where their bodies met.

“I think one of us should keep an eye on that corridor, in case anyone is sent out to look for us” he whispered against her skin, before lifting his gaze back to her, his golden eyes glimmering with mischief. “Would that be a mission you’d be happy to take on, Miss Reed?”

“Of course” she manages to answer, her voice croaking from anticipation.

“Good.” he grins. “Then, you’ll have to face the other way…”

She barely had time to register what he meant before she felt the heat of his body replace the cold marble that had been pressing against her back. She instinctively reached forward to place her palms on the pillar as Adrian resumed his pressing touches eagerly, one arm wrapped around her chest to keep her close, and the other finding its way between her thighs.

She could peek at the corridor ahead of them from where they stood, most of their bodies hidden by the imposing column that seemed to edge closer and closer to her as Adrian’s touch became more insistent. But being able to see ahead did not mean that she was actually looking. Even if she had wanted to fulfil her ‘mission’, the pressure of his left palm against her thigh and the hand that slipped under the fabric of her cleavage made it near impossible to focus on the task. The soft bites and kisses her neck were subjected to were not helping either.

Not being able to see or touch him was like torture, his quiet groans vibrating from his chest to her ribs, and his arousal pressing firmly against her back like a wicked promise that was for now beyond reach. Her back arched involuntarily when a firm hand grabbed her breast, his warm breath beneath her ear betraying his grin as the fingers on her thigh started to wander towards the edge of her underwear, playing with the seam of the lace before sneaking underneath with a deliberate slowness that had her whimper behind her tightened lips.

The light graze of his fingertips against her swollen nerves was all that was needed to weaken all muscles in her body, making both of them dangerously tumble forward as her arms gave in, removing the only leverage she had against Adrian’s pressure in her back, which had been keeping her so far from being flushed against the cold marble with no room to escape the sweet torment of his heated caresses.

Even though her eyes were now shut, she knew that Adrian was watching closely her features when she let her head fall back to rest in his shoulder, her brain going into overdrive when his touch became more pressing, kneading her breast and drawing lazy circles against her centre relentlessly. It was not long before she lost the last bit of control she had left over her own body, her lips parting slightly to let a moan escape, quickly muffled by Adrian’s mouth covering hers in an attempt to preserve the silence around them.

That might have worked perfectly, if only he had been able to kiss her with more restraint. Instead, his tongue had quickly found its way through her parted lips, brushing hers in patterns mirroring the movement of his fingertips between her legs, swallowing her whines as if he could taste her own pleasure through the ragged sounds that he was drawing out of her.

She was itching to touch him. One of her hands had left the cold surface of the pillar to find its way to his head and tangle in his hair, her entire body squirming against his to seek the friction that she was craving for. She knew he was trying to make her lose her mind. And it was working. She could feel his fingers slide gradually further down against her core, dipping into the wetness of her folds before retreating back, drawing growl after growl each time.

She could tell Adrian was relishing this by the way the corners of his mouth curled against hers. It was only when he suddenly pulled away from her swollen lips that she finally opened her eyes again, the lust and wickedness of his gaze sending a shiver all the way down to her toes. He had stopped moving, simply holding her petite form against his chest as tight as deemed possible, his golden eyes anchored to hers with an unmistakable gleam of challenge and promise.

“Adrian…” she mumbled feebly, desperately trying to grind against him but unable to resist his hold on her.

He smiled, remaining silent for a few seconds, before finally breaking the stillness with a low, husky voice, in a tone that was somehow both inviting and commanding: “Say please”.

There was no hesitation in her response, no control, her rasped voice echoing around the room as she begged, breathless: “Adrian, pleeeaaase…”

Thankfully, he did not make her say it again, barely waiting a few seconds before plugging a finger into her dampened slit, followed nearly immediately by a second, resuming his circular patterns over her swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. Withdrawing and dipping back into her with maddening slowness, she could feel her muscles clench around his fingers and her knees start to quiver as the pleasure was slowly building in.

Her dilated pupils could not tear away from his golden eyes, silently begging for more as he increased his pace, his hips grinding voraciously against her back, his mouth inches from hers as if resisting the urge to kiss her so that he could revel in the sweet music of her feverish whines echoing around them.

“Adrian… this is… so…” she tried to mutter between her gasps.

Adrian’s eyes flashed with a voracious gleam as he purred against her lips with a proud smirk, “so… good?”.

Her lips pursed weakly to form a teasing grin. “So… unprofessional”.

His smirk only widened further at her words, his hands suddenly moving away from her burning skin to grip her hips, making her head jerk up from his shoulder in surprise. She was about to complain when he swiftly swirled her body around and crashed his lips onto hers, pushing her back against the pillar, the contrast between the cold marble and the heat of her skin making her jump a little in his grasp.

It was not long before Adrian’s hands had found their way back beneath her dress, his fingers reaching hurriedly for the hem of her thong as his mouth started to descend from her mouth to her chin, roaming over her neck and her collarbone, until he sunk to his knees before her, skipping the parts of her that were covered by fabric to head straight for the space right below her navel. Dragging her underwear down her legs, he only broke the contact between his warm lips and her skin so that he could guide the lace over her heels, quickly shoving the fabric in his pocket before capturing her pulsing nub between his lips, not wasting any minute before expertly starting to explore her aching core, nibbling and suckling with an unmatched dedication.

Her hands were roaming all over his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and pushing her hips forward to demand more, her lower lip caught between her teeth to repress the urge to cry out with every stroke of his tongue, or every time the deft fingers that were slithering up and down her inner thigh came close enough to tease her entrance before retreating back wickedly. As much as part of her wanted to pull him back up to his feet and beg him to take her now, the other part could not even fathom the idea of making him stop his godly work between her legs.

There was no more coherent thought going through her fogged brain. Fragmentary visions of heated memories and unspoken fantasies were flashing before her eyes, mingling with the rousing sight of Adrian down on his knees before her, tasting her fervently in every way that she had ever dreamt of being tasted.

When she felt the intoxicating warmth of his mouth suddenly leave her centre, her mind unconsciously thanked him for ending this sweet torture, expecting the yearning in her core to be satiated soon enough when she would finally get to feel him inside her.

But that sweet release never came.

It took her a few seconds to realise that Adrian had jerked back up to his feet and hurriedly pulled down the fabric of her dress, unceremoniously grabbing Ellie’s waist to move her away from their hiding spot, releasing his grip once she was standing beside him in front of one of the display cases, their back turned away from the corridor.

She had to grip the edge of the display case to keep herself steady, her knees still trembling from Adrian’s handywork just a few seconds before, her eyes opening and closing at a maddening pace to try to clear her clouded brain and regain her senses. It was only when she heard the distinct sound of a pair of heels echoing towards them that she finally understood.

“Monsieur Raines?”, they heard a woman’s voice call out at a distance.

Adrian’s cheeks were flushed, and his hair completely tousled, but he made a quick work of fixing it as well as fixing his shirt with a smirk, mastering the art of regaining his composure in a flick of an eye, like the annoyingly perfect businessman that he was. Ellie fumbled around in an attempt to do the same, fully aware that she would never be able to be as efficient as Adrian, especially in the state of desperate yearning that he had just put her through. She was still panting, her heart thumping in her chest, pupils dilated and cheeks hot from so much blood rushing to her face, both from arousal and from the embarrassment that she knew was about to come.

Ellie jumped a little when the woman’s voice finally reached the room they were in: “Ah, Monsieur Raines! Je vous ai trouvé! Le buffet va commencer, si vous voulez bien rejoindre les autres invités dans le jardin?”.

Ellie had no clue what the woman had just said, and was in no shape to turn around and let the woman see the state of her. She was so grateful that Adrian knew exactly what to say and how to behave casually to buy her a few more minutes to sort out the mess he had made of her… although hearing him speak French was not helping much getting her arousal under control, as he politely answered the woman: “Merci, nous vous rejoignons dans quelques instants.”.

Ellie sighted with relief when she heard the woman’s footsteps retreat, turning around to face him, glaring at him with her best attempt at a reproachful scowl.

“That was….” she started, before being interrupted by Adrian’s mouth on hers, as he pressed a soft kiss on her swollen lips, before pulling away slowly with a grin.

“… unprofessional?” he teased, earning a falsely unamused eye-roll in return.

“We better get going, the party is starting, and all of the other guests are gathered in the gardens now” he announced, translating what the woman had said, but not releasing Ellie from his embrace just yet.

“I am in no state for socialising now” she admitted with a grimace, although she could not fight the teasing grin that was starting to form on her face. “I will never be able to focus properly after this… all I will be thinking about is sorting out this… hum, unfinished business…”

Adrian’s hold tightened a little more around her waist at her words, his eyes still gleaming with mischief and never leaving hers when he stepped slowly away, grabbing her hand to start dragging them both away from the room.

His voice was husky and full of promise when he casually answered with a teasing smile: “Well… unfortunately, we’ll have to play along a little bit longer I’m afraid… but I will certainly be looking forward all evening to the second part of this… unfinished business…”.

~~~

N/A: If anyone else is as eager as Adrian to see how ‘Part II’ of their little ‘public indiscretions’ is going to play out, let me know, and I’d be happy to oblige 😉 This prompt has inspired me way too much, thank you so much for the ask @mssukeyna 😉

~~~

Tagging @adriansbiss , @itsjustwinter , @shanzay44 , @purvishraick, @thefrenchiemama

@choicesficwriterscreations

#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #cfwc #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #asked and answered

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

Text

Irreverent Pt. 48 - Strings that Bind

Title: Irreverent Pt. 48 - Strings that Bind

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~9K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Every part of you ached as you walked towards your bedroom, past Jack's door, down the long hallway. Your clothes clung to you as you clumsily made your way to the room. There was a shooting pain on your left side from where you'd taken a spill earlier. Your body screamed its protest at your insistence on pushing it to keep moving despite the hell it had endured, yet you force yourself to continue on through the pain. Your brain felt numb and like it had overheated in exertion at the same time. Finally so much made sense and yet, nothing really did. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

As you entered, the room was dark save for the light streaming in from the hallway. You hadn't bothered turning it on yet. The dark felt better. You'd arrived home to a quiet house - Jack asleep already and Mrs. Avery leaving with a quick goodbye, seemingly sensing your desire to not speak much. She was good like that - perceptive, unobtrusive. In a way she reminded you of Mrs. Hernandez from when you were younger. In hindsight, you had more memories of her than you ever did of your own mother, despite her being let go after only a year. Your mother never did manage to keep a nanny around for too long. It wasn't that you were a troublesome child. She simply hated seeing you or Julian growing attached to any of them in particular, and thus kept a revolving door of nannies in and out of the house.

She'd hated that you insisted on calling her Mother. Never Mom or anything else softer - more personal, less clinical. Julian had tried to please her. He'd call her Mom to her face and revert to Mother otherwise. You wouldn't deign to give her that comfort. Participation trophies should be limited to children on soccer fields.

You shuffle into the room, trying to move quietly, peeling the jacket off and letting it fall out of your grasp and onto the floor. You glance over at the empty bed - Aaron was still away on a case. For the best, really. If he saw you right now, he would be able to tell that something was amiss. You reach up to swipe away at the tears that had formed as you'd trudged up the stairs, smearing eyeliner and dirt in your wake. You should go take a shower, clean up the dirt and soot that's coating you like a film. Instead you find yourself lowering against the side of the bed, feet planted to the floor as the tears take over, despite your attempts to keep yourself in check. Hot and wet, running down your cheeks in vain as you think back over the past twelve hours. How had everything gone to shit so fast?

You look up when you hear a shuffling outside your room, only to see Jack standing in the doorway, illuminated by the golden light outside, rubbing at his eyes. You feel a sting of guilt go through you as you realize you must've been loud enough on your way in to have woken him up. It was far too late for him to be awake.

"H–Hello." His voice comes out soft and groggy as he pushes open the door to your bedroom and makes his way inside, forcing more light to fall upon you.

He reaches you before you're able to force yourself to stand. You don't want him to see you like this but it is a little too late for that. Quickly wiping away any remnant tears with the sleeves of your shirt, you look up at his face. "Hey Bud, what're you doing up?"

Jack shrugs as if to say I don't know, just because before settling down in front of you on the floor and crossing his legs. He looks up at you from there and you feel yourself being appraised in a manner eerily similar to Aaron. Between the two of you, you'd raised a kid that was a little too perceptive and observant for his own good.

"Are you okay?" he asks, moving in closer and putting his smaller hand on yours in a way you're quite certain he's seen Aaron do before.

You can feel your heart swell at the care and concern behind his question. You sniff and nod, before forcing a watery smile on your face. "I just miss your dad," you tell him, knowing that at least it wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't the entire truth.

Jack watches you for a moment, head tilted to the side as if in deep thought. How deep could a six year old's thoughts even be?

"When I miss you or Daddy, I cuddle with Theo," he says finally, as if he's a little doctor prescribing the medicine to your ailment. You could imagine Jack on the nights neither you nor Aaron is at home, padding over to the shelf where his stuffed toys sit, and reaching over to grab the brown teddy bear that you'd gotten him after Haley passed away. Over the years the bear had been through quite a bit, getting dragged to playdates and the park early on, before retiring to a spot of prominence on the stuffed toy shelf. You'd done your best to keep him clean through all that time but despite that, Theo had gone through quite a few bows – a different color each time. If you weren't mistaken, it was a blue colored bow at the moment.

You smile at him, dragging him closer to you while making sure you aren't getting him dirty in the process. "Does it help?"

He nods. "A little. Then you're both back and I don't miss you anymore. Daddy will be back soon. He promised."

In that moment, you're so grateful that he has Aaron's eyes, because Aaron's eyes are whiskey and Aaron's eyes are honey and they are the first drip of coffee in the morning, helping you warm up and feel safe and at home always. Jack's eyes hold all of his father's heart and comfort but lack the sadness that life has flecked Aaron's with. It makes them better in a way. You could almost imagine it's what Aaron's had once been like.

You have to force yourself to take a deep breath in lieu of doing what you actually want to do, which is simply hold Jack like your own personal teddy bear and rock back and forth while crying. That might freak him out more than he likely already is.

"You wanna be my little cuddle bug for the night? Sleep here?" you ask, standing and lifting him with you as you go.

Jack nods enthusiastically, already moving to climb up onto the bed on Aaron's side. You watch as he makes himself comfortable, before you go get cleaned up.

By the time you emerge, Jack has already fallen back asleep and the only sound is from his gentle breathing. For a split second, you debate running down and grabbing your gun to keep by the bed, just in case. However, you remind yourself that the alarm system is in place and having the gun nearby has a much higher chance of hurting you or Jack than helping.

With that thought squared away, you gingerly lift the covers on your side, before slipping in carefully, so as to not disrupt the sleeping little boy next to you.

You lie awake for a while as you sift through everything that you've learned recently and how that changes things going forward. Tonight had been reckless on your part, and yet absolutely necessary. You couldn't even imagine what might've happened if you'd hesitated or not gone out there. You're once again thankful that Aaron is safely working a case in South Dakota, because you are nowhere ready to talk about everything just then. Nor could you, really. You couldn't actually tell him even if you wanted to – that was the worst part of all.

You're just about to drift away, when you feel Jack shift next to you, rolling over in his sleep to be closer, seeking you out with all of his limbs until you shift to be right next to him. He sighs in his sleep, causing the soft hair that had fallen into his face to flutter up with the next breath. He could use a haircut.

"Mama"

His lips had scarcely moved, eyelids fluttering barely. A single, heavenly word. A whisper into which he breathed life. You freeze as he unconsciously shuffles closer, seeking out your body heat even under the covers. His little fingers tightening into the material of your shirt. You couldn't look away from him if you tried – eyes glued to his sleeping form, his long eyelashes, his angelic face. Your heart thumped and rattled against your ribs before settling in your throat. You didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe. Just watched him. Watched as he clung to you even in his sleep.

*------------*

The team has been working on a case locally in Maryland, so Aaron has been able to spend the last few nights at home with Jack. He'd come back from South Dakota, in the evening to Jack and Mrs. Avery, having just missed you. The two of you had caught one another on a phone call as he drove to the airport a few states away and you drove to the airport, off to Europe once more. You'd sounded just a little subdued during the short call the two of you share, more so exchanging logistical information regarding Jack and his schedule rather than anything else.

You're supposed to arrive back tomorrow and the three of you have tickets to opening night for the ballet season which Jack has actually been looking forward to quite a bit. He'd already modeled his new outfit for the occasion for his father and when Aaron had looked in his closet, he'd seen a new suit for himself along with a tie matching Jack's bowtie. When you'd found the time to do all that along with preparing a few days' worth of meals and leaving a tray of tiramisu for him in the fridge, was entirely beyond him. As far as he knew, you were only back home with Jack for two days. Two very productive days it seemed like. He had a feeling that meant you hadn't slept much, if at all.

Aaron shifts as he continues to look over the paperwork he was catching up on. Despite an active case going on, it appears the cooling off period for this Unsub was fairly long, and so while the rest of the team ran down some leads, Garcia was digging deeper to see what she could unearth about the case. It left Aaron with a couple of free hours to start logging the ongoing paperwork for this case and catch up on the nearly thirty emails from Strauss around getting JJ recertified for fieldwork, as she had recently returned from her maternity leave (over far too quickly, as he'd been sure to tell her). The two of you had met baby Michael briefly, soon after his birth, going along with the rest of the team to JJ's home, laden with presents. Seeing you hold the baby with the utmost care, cradling him in your arms and softly cooing to him as he made himself at home in your embrace – it had stirred something within Aaron. You'd looked beautiful, your face glowing as you looked down at Michael, your eyes sparkling when you'd looked up and met his. He wanted that. He really wanted that with you.

He looks up then at the framed photo of the two of you on his desk and his heart fills with affection – it was the picture from New York, the two of you kissing on that red carpet. Dave had gone and gifted a framed copy to everyone on the team for Christmas, as a memento of that visit, and both of yours sat on your respective desks. Dave's copy had joined the slew of frames that sat on the counter running behind the desk in his office. Garcia's was the same for her own lair. JJ had taken her copy home and he's fairly confident it joined the scrapbook album she maintained as her art therapy – she said it kept her hands busy and her mind empty, best of both worlds. He's unsure where Morgan's copy ended up but he hasn't seen it around. Likely shoved to the back of the bottom drawer of his desk. Reid too had forgone the frame and Aaron had seen him use an oddly folded copy of the picture as a bookmark, whilst they'd been on the plane. Reid had gone to some effort to fold it in a manner so that your face was folded inwards – a difficult task indeed when one considered that the two of you had your lips locked together and he'd dipped you backwards. However it was Prentiss's copy which had truly caught his attention. It sat on her desk, in the same frame Dave had gifted it in. At first, Aaron had found this to be odd, because why would Prentiss want a framed photo of her coworkers kissing on her own desk. However, late one evening, when he was the last to vacate the premises, he'd walked by and upon closer inspection saw exactly why she kept it on her desk. She'd vandalized it. In true homage to her teenage rebel self, she'd gone and taken a sharpie, drawing a vastly exaggerated handlebar mustache on Aaron's face and a small tiara on your head. He would rather die than admit that it had drawn a small laugh out of him, as he'd put the frame back exactly where he picked it up from and walked his way towards the elevators.

Aaron shifts in the chair, rolling his shoulder back, still sore from the workout he'd had with Morgan earlier that morning, before turning back towards the form he was in the midst of filling out. His hands move with rote familiarity, filling in the details from the case thus far. He'd started to have an odd feeling about this case a couple days ago. Something about the victims had started to feel off and running it by Morgan, his feeling had been corroborated. As a result, Garcia was running a more thorough investigation on linking all of the victims together.

The working out with Morgan was a new thing, borne out of him asking you why you never chose to work out with him, with you opting to go spar with Morgan instead. You'd confessed that since your exit from the team, you didn't get much time with Morgan. Working out together was a way for the two of you to still have some of that one on one time. You'd been sure to add on that there were quite a few workouts you'd want to engage in with Aaron alone, and those were all clothing optional.

All joking aside, you did seem to actually get a lot out of working out with Morgan, and so Aaron had thought that maybe it would be nice for him to do the same. Morgan had been quick to agree and the two of them had started with just running and lifting weights in the gym downstairs. It was easy to see why you enjoyed this time with Morgan, just the two of you. In the field he was a colleague who always had someone's back. In the gym, he put on more of the coaching hat and would walk through drills and steps with a calm and serene tone that was entirely approachable. Over the past few weeks, Aaron had easily bridged several subjects that neither him nor Morgan had touched over a decade of working together. It was primarily Aaron letting down his guard and allowing himself to vocalize his concerns regarding you and how much you'd taken on recently. Morgan, in turn, had conveyed his appreciation for Aaron's role leading the team, and had confided in him that it was highly unlikely he'd ever want to be unit chief again himself. If anything, taking on the mantle in Aaron's absence had convinced him of quite the opposite, and with him and Savannah getting married and thinking of starting a family, there was a high chance he might want to shift his career towards one that allowed a semblance of a family life. Knowing what he did now, Aaron could do nothing but wholeheartedly support that decision.

"Hotch."

Aaron looks up at the call of his name, to see Morgan standing in his doorway, looking agitated.

"What's going on?" Aaron's already standing, making his way towards the door.

"Garcia found something last night, but we just got interrupted," Morgan explains, already turning away and walking towards the conference room where the team was set up to work on the case together. Aaron is quick to follow, his shoulders tensing and his brow furrowing as they both make their way to the room.

The sight that greets Aaron is odd, to say the least. Reid is stood near the whiteboard in the corner marker still in hand, Rossi has his arms crossed and is glaring towards the center of the room, and both JJ and Prentiss are stood like female lions, set to pounce on any threat to their cub. The cub in question - Garcia - was stood in the center at the round table, defiantly glaring up at Anderson, who it appeared, had stopped her from proceeding with her work. He was standing with one hand on her laptop and the other on the back of her chair, effectively preventing her from working any further.

"Agent Anderson, would you please mind explaining what is going on here?" Aaron squares his shoulders and fixes Anderson with a firm look, not at all appreciating how he's cornered Garcia and invaded her space.

However, before Anderson has a chance to explain, the door to the conference room opens and Aaron turns to see you standing there. His heart quickly fills with warm affection at the sight of you. He hadn't expected you home for another couple of days, so this was a pleasant, albeit untimely surprise.

He assumes you'd come looking for him, however he needs to deal with the situation at hand first, despite how much he'd rather just usher you away to his office and keep you to himself for say, the next hour or so, at least.

Aaron smiles at you quickly to acknowledge your presence and sees the others relaxing ever so slgihtly as well. "Hi sweetheart, if you want to wait in my office, you can. I can meet you there. Just have to deal with something first."

Instead of acknowledging him and leaving, however, you enter and close the door behind you, before quickly approaching Anderson and Garcia. "Agent Anderson, would you mind stepping outside, please?" you ask, your order soft but assertive. Anderson is quick to nod and do just as you asked without question. He releases the laptop and nods at Aaron before turning towards the door.

Aaron watches, confused, as Anderson closes the door behind him. What on earth was going on and how were you involved? Since when did Anderson take orders from you? It is obvious from the looks on everyone else's faces, that their thoughts mirror his own.

"Penelope," you turn now to Garcia, who was still at the table, hovering over her computer. "I need you to explain to me how you gained access to the file on Project Titan."

There's a tense silence as the team looks between you and Garcia, piecing together that the interruption to Garcia's work was linked to your current assignment. The name of the project was unfamiliar to Aaron. It wasn't in any internal briefing packets or any departmental meetings. That could only mean it was classified to the maximum degree.

Garcia's brow furrows deeper as she looks at you in surprise, and she shakes her head, her colorful earrings bouncing as she does, before she even speaks the words. "I can't do that, Y/N You know I can't."

Your lips press together in annoyance at the answer you receive. You wanted this to be easier. You hadn't expected pushback. Aaron finally snaps out of his confusion and recognizes that he has to take control of the situation before anything spirals out further. "Y/N, what is going on?"

You look up sharply, meeting his eyes only for a second, during which Aaron can immediately tell that you are incredibly tired. Worn out almost. He detects more makeup than normal, likely covering up dark circles underneath your eyes. If he's not mistaken, it would appear that your clothes are hanging just the slightest bit looser on your frame, as though you'd lost some weight in the two weeks since he'd last seen you. There's a look in your eyes that gives him great pause – it's not fear exactly, but perhaps fear mixed with resignation. An acceptance for what needs to come next.

You scan the room as you speak, taking in the piles of files and the work on the whiteboard. "The BAU is no longer to investigate the Busch murder or any other affiliated crime." Your eyes come back to land on the computer sitting in front of Garcia. That's your sole objective right now. It's the only thing that matters.

The air in the room changes immediately, from tense to downright confrontational. Aaron knows that the rest of the team is looking to him, barely breathing. They're trusting him to handle whatever is going on, because he's the boss. None of them would risk speaking up and saying the wrong thing. They've been through this before countless times with other adversaries in the field - overzealous prosecutors, territorial detectives, politicians high on their own power. However it's you now. You're the person on the other side.

"You do not have the authority to tell the BAU which cases we can or cannot take," he says quickly, hoping to keep the conversation to a minimum and resolve whatever is going, alone with you back in his office. He tries to gesture at you to follow him out of the room, but his efforts are rebuffed once more.

"Actually I – I can," you falter just barely as you turn back to him, lips pressed together and shoulders hunched ever so slightly, your lips worn as though you'd been biting them in frustration. You don't want to be doing this – that much is quite obvious to Aaron. "This comes straight from the top. This case has been tagged as classified and this team is no longer authorized to work it." Your voice is detached, as though deliberately trying to avoid any of your obvious ties to the team you're speaking of. Your team.

"Garcia," you turn once more to face her, "it is of the utmost importance that you tell me how you got to the Titan files. It has grave security implications around the project," you repeat your earlier request to Garcia, this time with an attempt at persuasion, hoping to appeal to her innate desire to help you in particular. Aaron can acknowledge that that is exactly what you're doing in that moment. Trying to leverage your relationship to Garcia while simultaneously distancing yourself from the team. He has to acknowledge. He does not have to like it.

Garcia shakes her head again at your question, looking up and meeting Aaron's eyes. She's scared and her eyes are wide with fear, yet brimming with defiance still. She's awaiting his instruction on how she should proceed. This was such a bizarre situation. You have to know very well that Garcia had done what she usually does – employ a slightly dubious manner of obtaining any information asked of her. Usually that is perfectly fine. Usually no one stops her. Usually she doesn't have friends on both sides – one asking her not to speak while the other implores her to give herself up.

You turn and follow Garcia's eyesight, only to see Aaron shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He's indicating to her to not speak at all. Saying nothing is far better than saying something in this case, he's decided. Saying anything at all could cause a ripple effect of consequences that they have no visibility to yet.

"Y/N, why don't we take this to my office?" He is intent on moving this discussion so that the two of you can speak more freely and get to the root of whatever is happening here.

You look at him once more, apology in your eyes as you let out a sigh. Shit. He can feel the tense coil in his stomach grow tighter. He's not used to seeing you like this. So very obviously doing someone else's bidding. He didn't even know yet what Garcia had stumbled upon, but if it had to do with your project – from what little he knows of it – it wasn't good. It simultaneously raises the stakes for the string of murders the team had been investigating, as well as effectively shuts them out. As it stands, your clearance level is actually higher than his. Higher than Strauss's even.

Ignoring Aaron's request another time, you pull your shoulders back and stand to the full extent of your height, back completely straight. Even then you barely are able to look Penelope head on. "Agent Garcia," your voice is clipped as though you're reading from a script, and Garcia immediately takes a small unconscious step back at your words. "I need you to hand over the laptop to me and if I have to ask again, it will be in an interrogation room and I will recommend that you retain a lawyer."

A loud silence rings through the room at the threat you'd issued. You'd run the gamut for your patience with the situation and you're prepared to see this through to a bitter end if need be. Aaron knows that wasn't you at all and he also knows that whoever was puppeteering you at that moment had enough pull for you to do this at all. Meaning this was the nicest possible version of whatever the original threat had been, watered down at your insistence. There was no way you would let someone just threaten Penelope without a fight.

He meets Morgan's gaze and then turns to Rossi. The three of them have a silent exchange before Aaron turns once more to Garcia, who was now clutching the laptop to her chest as though her life depended on it.

You look between him and Garcia, carefully avoiding looking at Morgan or Prentiss. Your eyes urge him to comply, because you can't promise that the situation won't escalate otherwise. He knows that. He knows that you're trying to resolve this in as easy of a manner as possible with minimal blowback to the team. Trusting that you know what you're doing, he nods at Garcia, giving her the go ahead to hand over the laptop. Whatever happens next, they'll deal with it.

You nod your thanks at Aaron for not putting up more of a challenge. "Thank you." Squaring up once more, you swallow, your tongue peeking out briefly to lick your lips and Aaron can see that the hand that isn't holding on to the laptop is clenched tightly. No doubt there will be red indented crescents in your soft palms momentarily.

Thinking that was the end of it, Aaron is about to usher you into his office if he can, however as you turn once more to Garcia, your next words shock him to the core. "Effective immediately, you are suspended, pending further notice."

There is an immediate outcry. Morgan asks you what you think you're doing. Prentiss is quick to move closer to Garcia. JJ informs you that you cannot do that. However it is Garcia who appears entirely stupefied and paralyzed. The hurt look on her face, accompanied by the sharp gasp had forced you to turn away from her, avoiding the betrayal tinged tears in her eyes.

You continue on, however, ignoring everyone but Aaron now. "The BAU needs to hand over any material on the case thus far. You are not to investigate it further. You are not to disseminate this information to anyone else. You are not to speak of it to one another. Any violation of these terms will result in an immediate suspension for all involved parties, pending internal review."

With that, you walk past your old teammates, past Aaron, and open the door to Anderson waiting outside. "Agent Anderson, will you please escort Agent Garcia to her office to grab any personal belongings and then follow her to her home. Any Bureau issued devices must be confiscated from there as well."

Anderson nods and looks expectantly at Garcia, who is standing in the midst of the rest of the others, Morgan's hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles.

She gives a shaky nod before moving away from everyone and walking towards the door. As she approaches you, Aaron sees you reach out and grab her arm before leaning in and whispering something into her ear, imperceptibly low. He turns immediately to Reid, hoping he was able to discern whatever you had said, and Reid nods as they all watch Anderson escort Garcia away. You'd angled yourself at an angle optimal for him to be able to read your lips.

You scan the room once more, a dissatisfied grimace on your face, before your eyes land finally on Aaron once more. He has no words for you, unsure of what to say or what to do without knowing more. You nod once more at him, and he takes that to mean that the two of you will discuss whatever just happened later at home that night.

Turning, you closing the door behind you as you go, the laptop clutched in your hands and he watches you walk down the stairs, teetering in the heels you were wearing, and through the bullpen towards the exit. He can just barely make out you calling the elevator, and instead of going down, you go up. He can only imagine which floor you're headed to.

He turns back to face the team, finding them all looking at him.

Reid looks up meeting Aaron's eyes, his own giving away how shaken he was with the events that had just transpired.

"Reid, what did Y/N say to Garcia?"

Reid swallows, looking around the room at the rest of the team – Morgan who still looks furious, JJ and Prentiss who both seem to be processing the strange turn of events, and Rossi, whose normally stoic outlook was marred by a grim expression.

"Be careful. They'll be watching."

*------------*

By the time you arrive back home, it is very late and the house appears to be dark, save for the light emanating from the small lamp in the study. You stop outside the door, keys in one hand and bag in the other, and take a deep breath. Today had been absolute shit. From the rushed plane ride back ,to the conversation with McKinney, to having to actually be the one to issue Garcia's suspension notice – this day would make the top worst days on the job hall of fame. Who would've thought you'd ever go toe to toe with the Director of the FBI and live to tell the tale?

You feel dead tired on your feet and you genuinely could not remember the last time you'd slept, having asked the flight attendant for an energy drink an hour prior to landing, and having chugged another one on the walk over from McKinney's office to the BAU conference room. It was a wonder your heart hadn't given out right then, thrumming inside as fast as a hummingbird's when you'd entered that conference room to see Anderson having followed your instructions to impede Garcia from digging any further into the files.

A deep sigh leaves you as you unlock the door and enter quietly, quickly removing your heels before turning towards the study. You knew to expect Aaron there, and there he was. He was at the desk, surrounded by paperwork, and looking up at your entrance. You'd figured he would stay up no matter what. He'd been the worst part of today. Having to go over his head. In front of the team. You could only imagine how that might have made him feel. It had definitely made you feel like the absolute worst person on the planet.

You walk to the doorway of the study, stopping at the entrance. He meets your gaze head on, and you're happy to note that he actually looks well despite everything. The past few days at home seem to have done him some good. He has a healthy glow about him, his hair flopping on his forehead, his white t-shirt stretched across his chest. If you're not mistaken, he looks just a little more filled out, in the best of ways – his typically lean body packed with slightly more definition. Something you'd learned to notice through Derek.

"Hi." His voice is softer than you'd anticipated considering your actions from earlier in the day.

You offer him a small, quick smile in response. "Hey."

It's quiet as the two of you look at one another, both unsure how exactly to proceed. You look at your watch, and noting the hour, know you need to move this along despite wanting to linger and explain everything. You don't have that luxury. "Can we talk while I pack? I'm sorry," you sigh. "I have another flight out in a few hours."

Aaron's brows knits together, reminding you that he doesn't know of the change to your schedule yet. However, he nods, knowing you'll explain further. Standing, he walks over to you, wordlessly reaching for your bag, and together you both head upstairs to the bedroom, not wanting to make too much noise while Jack was asleep.

You enter first and walk towards the bathroom and through to the closet, Aaron walking in behind you and closing the door before following. He watches quietly as you quickly change into clothes you'd be more comfortable in during the flight, and in lieu of having nothing else to do, occupies himself with emptying your bag and dumping the clothes into the laundry basket, before busying himself with replenishing your toiletry kit with practiced ease. Anything to make this easier on you. He's tempted to ask if you'd eaten today but he's worried he won't like that answer and he doesn't want to agitate you further with whatever his own reaction would be. He trusts you'll eat on the plane once you're able.

"I'm sorry for today." You've started to pick out a new set of clothes for the next trip, not entirely sure how many days you should pack for. Clyde hadn't been too clear. You decide to err on the side of overpacking, grabbing a few outfits for a professional setting and many others for casual casework, before dumping the entirety of your underwear drawer into a packing cube.

"Let me guess, you can't say anything." Aaron's finished replacing anything you'd run out of, even making more to make a few more pads and tampons for you from underneath the sink, knowing you're about due for your period soon. He'd had the entire evening to think through the events of earlier and he knows his hands are tied and so are yours. He doesn't want to shoot the messenger – he knows that was what you'd been forced into being today. None of that was your call.

You smile your thanks as he hands you a fully loaded toiletry kit, trusting him to have done it perfectly as he has countless times before. "Not much, I'm afraid. But understand that that was the best possible outcome for the time being. There were talks of a treason charge that – well let's just say that depending on what is found on the computer, there's a chance I won't have a job by tomorrow morning."

Aaron halts at that as you continue to fold and put clothing into the bag. He'd suspected as much, but to actually hear that you'd put your own job on the line for Garcia – needless to say he isn't surprised. If anything, it makes it so that he trusts that you did your absolute best to ensure that no harm would come from the backlash, to either Garcia or the rest of the team. His respect for you increases tenfold. He's not so much worried about solving some highly classified murder cases as he is about ensuring that nothing happens to the team or you.

"Are you alright?" He makes sure to catch your gaze as you move around, so that he'll know if you aren't being entirely honest as you answer that particular question.

It had been a while since anyone had actually asked you that, and really you don't have it in you to lie to Aaron. You pause to look at him directly, your shoulders dropping as you release a deep sigh. "No. I just can't do anything about it yet."

He hates this. He hates that you feel entirely vulnerable and exposed and entirely helpless to change that. He hates that he can't do anything to make it better. You shouldn't have to feel like this while he's around. You shouldn't have to look at him and feel like you can't ask anything of him. How is he supposed to be the person you turn to if you aren't even permitted to tell him what you're dealing with?

Sighing, he runs a hand over his face tiredly as you finish packing and zip up the bag, hoisting it up by the handle, only for him to reach forward and grab it from you once more before the two of you exit to the bedroom. There, he sets the bag down and grabs your arm – the first true physical contact the two of you have had in two weeks and you can feel your resolve to keep it together waver just at that alone.

Aaron pulls you in, hugging you tight, his arms encasing you fully. You can feel the warmth seeping through him, feel his heart beating in his chest as you rest your cheek against it, allowing yourself this moment of respite. You sniffle slightly, holding the tears at bay. It was so easy to let yourself open up to him, and yet you truly couldn't afford to breakdown then. Later, you tell yourself. After this is over.

You reluctantly pull away, knowing there's at least one more thing you need to discuss with him tonight before you have to leave. He looks down at you in question, having noted the sudden tensing of your jaw as you look up at him. You bite your lip and he resists the urge to lean down and soothe the ache there – kiss over all the places you'd bitten raw until they're better.

"Today sucked, Aaron," you confess, your voice hushed and your throat heavy with held back emotion, still standing in the circle of his arms. "The worst part was going over your head though. I know you aren't saying it, because you're far too noble to say anything about it, but I know that sucked for you too."

Aaron takes in a deep breath, thinking over your acknowledgement, knowing you're opening the floor to have that conversation further. However right then, you superseding his authority is the least of his concerns. He's not bothered by it in the same manner you appear to be.

"Can you handle me doing this job, knowing that this could happen again?" You look up at him with worry in your eyes, watching his reaction carefully.

At your question, he tenses. His mind goes to the worst of places and his breath comes out shallow as he looks down at you, a storm brewing behind his molten eyes. "What does that mean?"

Your brow furrows, appraising his question and his reaction in tandem, before realizing exactly where his head went at that. "Hey, relax, it's alright." You reach out and softly brush your hands down his arms before reaching up to cup his jaw softly, thumb caressing lightly back and forth across his cheek. "This isn't you and Haley, Aaron," you remind him. "I'm not you and you are definitely not Haley."

He nods, though his posture remains tense despite his face eagerly tilting and allowing the comfort you offered with your touch.

"I have a job offer," you continue, "from the CIA. I haven't responded to it yet – told them I'm actively working a case and can't give them an answer yet. But, if this, us – if we are going to have issues running into each other at work, then there are other options."

This is news to Aaron. He hadn't known you were being sought out by the Agency and while he isn't surprised that they'd reach out to you – you're brilliant, of course they would – he's surprised that you're entertaining it. He's familiar with your disdain for the CIA, still holding somewhat of a grudge from your initial rejection. However, to know that you'd consider working somewhere you don't like, for the sake of preserving your relationship with him – that's not something he would ever ask of you. He was an adult and so were you. Professional disagreements did not have to bleed into your personal life, especially with him knowing exactly how much you'd risked today for Garcia's sake.

"I can handle it," he's quick to reassure you, moving his head to kiss your palm, his hand reaching up to grab yours, squeezing gently.

You pause, assessing his answer, before nodding. "Okay, offer still stands if you reconsider. I have until this wraps up to decide."

You reach for your bag but he beats you to it, grabbing it once more as the two of you make your way out of the room and down the hallway. You pause briefly outside of Jack's room, wanting to see him but decide against it. You don't want to risk waking him up and getting him all excited.

Aaron notes your pause and with you leaving once again despite there being ballet tickets booked for Saturday, he knows you're going to have to disappoint Jack on that front. He meets your eyes and smiles softly, understanding in his eyes. You don't usually make promises you can't keep with Jack. That's always been more so his thing.

The two of you reach the foyer once more and you turn around and grab the bag from Aaron's hands. The driver is still waiting for you outside.

"Kiss him for me? I'll call as soon as I can."

He nods. "Of course sweetheart."

You lean up quickly, a quick brush of your lips against his that he's quick to reciprocate. His arms wind around your back, lips greedily moving against yours. He'll make the most of any opportunity he has with you right now. He won't squander a single second. Not when every kiss like this leads to your extended absence each time. Not when every kiss is only a reminder of all the kisses the two of you have missed out on lately. Not when neither of you are ever sure which kiss could be the last.

You move away, your eyes sparkling once more in a way that is so familiar to him that it causes a pang in his chest just to have a glimpse of them like this, if only for a moment. If only even as you're leaving. He'll take it. He'll take whatever you can give. Anything. Everything.

Then you're out the door and he watches the driver exit and take your bag for you. You wave quickly, urging him to go back inside. Then you're gone. Just like that, you're gone.

*------------*

The team had moved on to another case after being banned from the Busch murder investigation. As it stood, the official party line was that they were deferring to the will of the higher ups. Rossi had even brought the matter to Strauss's attention, and while she had been surprised by what had transpired, she'd told them both that it was entirely out of her hands. The decision had come down from McKinney directly and there was no changing his mind.

It had been about a week since he'd seen you off, during which you'd called once to apologize to Jack for having to miss the ballet. Jack had taken it well enough, and you'd promised that you were going to do your best to make it up him. You'd already lined up Prentiss to fill in for you, knowing Jack would appreciate having Auntie Emily to spoil him for the evening. Aaron had spoken with you then, and you'd told him that you would do your best to figure out the Garcia situation. The team was struggling working with Kevin Lynch; he simply lacked Garcia's natural talents.

Aaron, however, finds himself far more concerned about you. He knows that ultimately Garcia would be fine. He'd already submitted a request to have her reinstated and even Strauss was supporting him in getting her back as soon as possible. However, with you, he feels entirely helpless. Obviously the assignment with Interpol had you run ragged and you'd even confessed that not everything was alright, but with your differing levels of clearance at the moment, there wasn't much he could say or do to be of any assistance. As a result, your conversations together are brief – soft exchanges where he reminds you that he's there when you need him, whispered acknowledgements from you riddled with a pain that makes his heart ache for you. He knows too well how difficult it is to keep anything secret between the two of you, and this is something that you so obviously want to share with him, that it is painful for him to watch you struggle through it without being able to do just that.

Having just landed the night before from a case in Milwaukee, Aaron is busy reading through everyone's reports, his eyes glazing over Reid's – he expects nothing but the utmost thoroughness there. Looking it over is a formality at best. Not that he'd admit that to anyone else. Morgan, however, had confided in Aaron that whilst he'd been unit chief, he'd given up reviewing Reid's reports altogether. Aaron had to think he was getting soft with age – or maybe it was due to the kinder friendship he shared with Morgan nowadays. His only reaction had been a light chuckle, much to Morgan's surprise.

There's a knock at his door, interrupting his perusal, to which he grants entrance.

Looking up, he sees you standing there, a plain black suit hanging off of you, matching the dark circles that are plainly visible on your face. Your hair is pulled away from your face and tied up professionally and, surprisingly, you're wearing flat shoes. He can't remember ever seeing you wear flat shoes around the office, almost always opting for something with at least a slight heel. It's as though all pretense has left you, leaving behind only you in the rawest form – unable to pretend to be alright any longer.

"Hi." You walk in, forcing a slight smile. The smile doesn't manage to reach your eyes.

He's about to stand so he can walk around to greet you, but you interrupt him with a quick shake of your head, raising your hand to stop him. "It's alright. I just came to drop this off."

You place a piece of paper on his desk, which he's quick to reach for, fingers brushing against yours. You pull back quickly. He doesn't say anything, unsure what to make of that. Maybe he'd imagined it.

They're reinstatement papers for Garcia. Her suspension was over.

"Thank you," he says quietly, looking up to meet your eyes. You blink and look down. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look quite so…frail. It makes all of his worries from the past week compound, and he's once again making to stand so he can greet you properly.

"It's alri–"

He's reached you before you can stop him again and as he reaches out for you he detects a nearly imperceptible flinch as his hand reaches up towards your arm. He stops, his stomach lurching. You don't flinch away from him. Ever.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're alright?" he asks, making sure his voice is low and soft, as unthreatening as possible.

You look up to meet his eyes and you just look so entirely defeated. As if someone had stolen what little hope you might've had that this – whatever this was – would turn out alright.

"Um – yeah. It's fine. Don – don't worry about it." You take a deep breath and he can see you donning the mask once more. The mask that would allow you to walk out of his office. The one that had likely slipped in his presence out of habit, despite any attempts to keep it in place. Keep whatever was going on, hidden from him too. He's at once heartened to realize that you can't fake it in front of him if you tried, and terrified that you'd tried at all.

"Y/N – "

You're shaking your head, so he stops. He doesn't know what to do. How to help.

"I'm going to be off the grid for a bit," you inform him matter-of-factly, your voice clear and concise once more. "Might be hard to reach me, but if you need something, you should be able to go through McKinney."

You've turned around and are already walking away.

"Hey, wait."

His voice stops you at the door and you turn around towards him, eyebrow raised in question.

There's nothing more he can say at this moment. Nothing to convince you to stay or let go of this assignment. It would be futile and he knows it. Whatever it is that you're working through, he trusts that you'd tell him if you possibly could. Without that, the only thing he can do is hope and pray that this is over soon. That you come back to him safe and sound. So he says the only thing he can say.

"I love you."

You take a shallow, shuddered breath, your jaw clenching as you meet his worried gaze. There's a moment where he thinks that maybe you're about to simply give in – throw caution to the wind and tell him everything, consequences be damned. It passes as quickly as it appeared, however. You offer him the barest of smiles that's gone before he can truly bask in its arrival.

"I know."

With that, you're gone. He watches as you walk down the stairs, steps slowing down slightly behind Prentiss and Morgan's desks. Neither of them look up towards you. You continue on towards the elevators and then you're gone.

*------------*

Dave was coming for dinner that evening, and Aaron had just filled him in on your quick appearance earlier that afternoon. He's packing up his belongings while Dave waits for him, when Strauss peaks her head in to his office.

"Heading out?" she asks, looking from him to Dave.

Aaron nods.

Dave smiles and gestures her in. "I have a dinner date with a six year old. Aaron is chaperoning."

She lets out a light laugh and Aaron can't help but think that it's an odd sound coming from her. He's never going to get used to Strauss and Dave being a thing. He's almost grateful that you aren't there, as the last couple of times the two of you have seen Dave interacting with Strauss, you've gone out of your way to whisper the most disgustingly inappropriate things to him about the two of them and their supposed debauched sex lives. He could do without those particular nightmares.

"Aaron, I just wanted to drop off this paperwork for you. Agent L/N has already signed it, so it just requires your signature. Feel free to drop it off tomorrow." She hands him an envelope before breezing out of the room and wishing them both a good evening.

Aaron looks up to find Dave's face reflecting his own curiosity. What required yours and his signatures? The paperwork for your designation change had gone through a while ago.

He opens up the envelope and looks at the header. His vision starts to blur around the edges and he might have stumbled slightly, alarming Dave in the process, who marches forward and helps steady him, before grabbing the papers from Aaron's hands.

"Dissolution of Consensual Relationship Agreement?" Dave's words echo through the room and yet to Aaron it is as though he hears them from underwater. The big block lettering. Your signature on the line. Your delicate script outlining your name.

His heartbeat has sped up quite a bit. His hands feel clammy, his breath coming in short spurts. The ringing in his ears – always present in the background and easily ignored – is a high pitched whine as blood rushes madly through his veins.

"Aaron, look at me."

He looks up at Dave, who appears stunned despite his calm and direct voice. Aaron just feels numb. He surpassed shock within the first second. He's strictly at numbness now. His mouth feels dry as though there was a cotton ball in there. He blinks repeatedly as he tries to focus on Dave's face.

"Aaron, do you truly believe Y/N would ever end things with you in this way? Really?"

Would you? He has to think you wouldn't. There would be a conversation. Nothing had happened. Well, obviously something had happened, but nothing had happened between the two of you. Your things were still at home. You hadn't uttered a single word of this to him today, despite having come by to drop off Garcia's paperwork. Sure, that interaction hadn't been wonderful. It had left him with a deep concern that had occupied much of his thoughts the rest of the afternoon. But truly, no. Nothing was wrong with the two of you. At least, nothing that he knew of.

He slowly shakes his head.

"Exactly. She wouldn't. Look, something is obviously going on, but it boils down to one question. Do you trust her?"

He nods. Yes. Of course he trusts you. There is no one he trusts more.

"Alright, then let's not overreact. Once she's back, I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable explanation for this."

Dave's right. Aaron knows that he's right.

Even if he isn't, he's going to choose to believe him for now. The alternative would crush him entirely. He can't afford that. Not yet. Not until he's seen you and you confirm it one way or the other.

He takes a deep breath, looking from Dave to the papers that are still in his hand. Leaning forward, he grabs a pen from the cup on his desk. He knows what he has to do.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

Text

Tír na nÓg by Sorakage

“Why do I have to be here? I hate the woods! I dislike nature, in general!” Chloe protested as she, Juleka, Alix, Sabrina, and Kagami all got off 5he bus to Landes de Gascone national park.

“Two reasons. The first being that some of the local fey told me that a particularly dangerous spirit is starting to wake up.” Sabrina grimaced.

“I did some research and found a spell that should put it back to sleep…in theory.” Alix shrugged.

“I do not like the ‘in theory’ part of that statement.” Kagami deadpanned.

“Not my fault spirit magic isn”t my realm of expertise! If it was, I’d be hijacking every last Akuma the moment reared it’s ugly head and sending them back at Hawkmoth with a pipebomb attached, labeled return to sender..” the skater huffed.

“The second reason is that Alix found a spell that should put the spirit back to sleep, but It requires a musical accompaniment and a four part harmony, hence why Juleka brought her bass, and why we’re all here.”

“So all we have to do is lullaby this thing into submission? Sounds too easy. What”s the catch?” Juleka frowned.

“Well, if we screw this up, the blight spirit will probably end up killing us horribly and eating every last bit of greenery in a ten thousand miles radius…as an appetizer.” Sabrina grimaced.

“Don’t mess this up, or Europe becomes a wasteland, got it!” Juleka squeaked as the band walked into a darkened clearing. They could practically feel a presence in the very air like hands around their collective throats, sucking the life out of them.

“Get ready…” the witch gulped as Juleka started to strum her bass while the others examined the lyrics.

“I don’t even know how to pronounce half of this!” Chloe squawked.

“Mother once described my singing voice as ‘sounding akin to an insane squirrel choking on nuts’.” Kagami gulped, for once hesitating.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Alix shuddered.

“Too late to back out now…” Sabrina gulped as the darkness coalesced into a towering porcine figure, easily over two stories tall. Its grotesque body budged with roll after roll of fat, and the gang collectively gagged as the smell of rotting, festering plant life suffused the field.

“AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS OF FASTING, I’M FREE TO FEAST!” The spirit of rot roared.

Juleka began to strum as the four scattered to the four compass points. Sabrina to the north. Chloe to the south. Alix to the west. And Kagami to the east.

“Remember girls, we have to keep the harmony,” Sabina pleaded as they started to sing.

“Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na, Nu-ga Tír na nÓg!” The quartet sang in tandem, somehow managing to keep together, despite their lack of collective experience.

“Come my love our world’s would part, The gods will guide us across the dark! Come with me and be mine my love, Stay and break my heart!” Kagami sang out, her voice high and clear.

“From the shores through the ancient mist, You bear the mark of my elven kiss!” Clear the way, I will take you home…To eternal bliss!” Alix crooned, making mocking smooches at the panicking spirit.

“Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg!” The singers chanted joyfully, Chloe doing a skip dance as flowers sprang to life around her.

“Tír na nÓg oh, come beyond the ancient fog! Tír na nÓg oh, come with me to Tír na nÓg!” Sabrina sang as the spirit writhed in pain.

“Far away from the land you knew, The dawn of day reaches out to you! Though it feels like a fairy tale, All of this is true!” The four sang as the blight let out a frightened wail. It bolted for the edge of the field, but was bounced back by an invisible barrier. Juleka looked on in wonder as a massive, glowing trinity knot sprang into existence under their feet

“Run with me, have a look around, We build our life of a sacred ground! Come my love, our world’s may part, We’ll be safe and sound!” Kagami smiled happily, as the singers almost subconsciously began to clap their hand to the beat of the music.

“Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg!” The group chorused, bathing the entire field in light as the ground bubbled and hissed under the blight spirit. The monstrosity let out a wail of terror as tree roots grew from the earth, tying the otherworldly being down.

“Tír na nÓg oh, come beyond the ancient fog! Tír na nÓg oh, come with me to Tír na nÓg!” Sabrina whooped joyfully. Branches and bark began to grow from the Sririt’s warty hide as it pleaded with the singers in a long forgotten tongue. It promised them wealth, power, anything they wanted if it meant they stopped singing!

“Time won’t follow the path we came, The world you left, it forgot your name. Stay with me and be mine my love, Spare my heart the pain!” Chloe sang at the top of her lungs, throwing her hand into the air as their clapping dance reached a crescendo.

“Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na ridh na! Sha ta co-ti o nu-ga Tír na nÓg! Sha ta co-ti os cum-na-ridh na Nu-ga Tír na nÓg!” The four chorused as the massive tree sprang to life, silencing the monstrosity’s pleas for mercy.

“Tír na nÓg oh, come beyond the ancient fog! Tír na nÓg oh, come with me to Tír na nÓg! Come with me to Tír na nÓg!” They sang in tandem as the tree branches bloomed.

“We did it?” Chloe breathed.

“WE DID IT!” Alix shrieked, tackling The blonde to the ground, peppering her face with kisses.

“ACK! Alix! Knock it off! If you’re gonna kiss me, at least do it on the lips instead of my eyebrows!” The mayor’s daughter barked, grabbing the skater by the cheeks and pulling her in for a proper smooch.

“Should we come back later, or what?” Juleka deadpanned, shocking the two girls out of their adrenaline drunk make out session.

“Ahem! Sooooo, we just saved all of Europe! Anyone else feel like a pizza party?” Alix smiled weakly, still holding hands with the blonde.

“May we make it a sleepover? I have never experienced one before.” Kagami asked.

“Remind me to talk to your mother about how badly she’s stunted your education!” Juleka huffed.

“Any way you slice it, that means one thing: PARTY TIME!” Sabrina grinned madly as they made their way back to the bus stop.

————

Aw that was wonderful! Nice dude!

#sorakage #other magic au #submission

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e350tb · 3 years

Text

The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter One)

One

An uninvited guest arrives at the Noceda residence.

Right, settle down everyone, time for a history lesson.

No, no, please save the questions for the end of the class.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, English settlers - note the terminology there, English, not British, the Act of Union doesn’t happen for another hundred years. Anyway, English settlers started to cross the Atlantic in earnest to colonise what we now call the eastern seaboard of the United States. While Englishmen liked to claim they weren’t motivated by the same ‘base’ desires as the Spaniards in Central and South America, generally speaking, colonists were motivated by the same three things as the conquistadors.

There’s our key words - glory, God and gold.

Not literally gold - the hopes of gold nuggets on shores of Virginia didn’t bear fruit - but commodities. Beaver pelts and tobacco, things you couldn’t get in Europe at the time. The trade in rare goods and eventually humanity would enrich both colonists and their backers for the next two hundred years. They also served as breeding grounds for religious dissent.

Ah, dissenters. We’ll come back to them, because they’re much more interesting than they sound.

By the 1630s, the colonies in Virginia and Massachusetts are fairly well established, and people are spreading out in search of more land. If you’re a settler in Massachusetts and you want to find a new patch of land away from everyone else, well, Connecticut’s right there.

There’s a lot of debate over which town is the oldest in Connecticut - traditionally, it’s Wethersfield. But a few academics have argued that that laurel belongs to a different township - the one in which we are gathered today.

Which brings us to 1635, and the establishment of Gravesfield by ten men who had wandered over from the Colony of Massachusetts Bay. Perhaps no town in the state has as much weird colonial lore as us.

And how much of it is true?

Well, that’s for historians to work out…

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

It all began on a dark and grey autumn day.

When something happens in a small town like Gravesfield, it gets everyone’s attention. About two weeks ago, for example, the curator of the local historical society had been arrested, fined and fired for trespassing, and it was still the talk of the town. They whispered about it in the cafes, shared articles in the offices, and presented wild, unsubstantiated theories about it on local talk radio.

“So you’re saying that we can’t trust historians?”

A few drops of rain rapped against the window - it was one of those days where it doesn’t rain, but it gusts heavily, and droplets are caught in the wind. The kitchen was dark; light shadows danced on the wall, and the illuminated numbers on the microwave seemed almost brilliant in the gloom. It very much matched the mood.

“Look, Kerry, I’m not sayin’ all historians are bad, but you gotta listen to some o’ these people; the things they say about Jefferson n’ Washington n’ all them folks. They get their kicks on bein’ right and tearin’ people down, this Hopkins fella probably wanted to prove something, and…”

Over the dim sound of the radio, one could hear the clock; tick, tick, tick, tick. Occasionally it was drowned out as a gust rattled the windows and doors, but the sound always returned, constant and ever present - tick, tick, tick, tick.

Time. Ever ticking, ever moment. Every moment, a moment stolen.

“And that was Marvin from Bridge Street. We’ll come back to that, but first the news on the hour. Brad?”

On the bench, next to the phone, stood a small picture frame, the glass slightly illuminated in the stormy afternoon light. To all the world, it showed a typical family - a man, a woman and a little girl. The man’s face was obscured by the light, but one could see the clear similarities in the faces of the mother and daughter.

Those that were here. Those that were now gone.

“The Los Angeles Police Department has announced an amber alert that was put into place several months ago has been withdrawn. In defiance of all expectations, a teenager, whose family has asked for anonymity, returned home over the weekend; two other missing girls, whose cases were connected to the teenager, remain missing at this-”

Camila Noceda turned off the radio.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring at the clock. It had been a long day. It had been a long few weeks.

Unlike those engaging in baseless speculation about the case of Jacob Hopkins, Camila knew exactly what had happened to the previously respected amateur historian. She could even tell you who the mysterious assailant who had beaten him up and left him for the police was; it was her.

She was quite happy to remain anonymous, too. She didn’t want any laurels, any radio interviews, anything like that. She didn’t want to be reminded of that day.

Not while Luz remained separated from her.

Everything about the situation boggled her mind. The Boiling Isles, the Owl House, Emperor Belos - they sounded like fantasy; even she’d thought they were fantasy to begin with. But the idea that they were real, and that her daughter was in such a dangerous world - willingly, no less - was absolutely terrifying.

The same words ran through her head, day in and day out.

“Staying here was the best decision I ever made…”

Had she really been that bad of a mother?

There was a strange thumping noise outside. For a moment, Camila ignored it, but then it came again, louder this time.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

It was like something was trying to break through a door.

Camila shot up - was it Vee? No, she was at school (where everyone still believed she was Luz - Camila swallowed the thought.) Was an animal trapped under the house - or had Hopkins started trapping them again? If he was, she was going to make their last encounter feel positively…

BANG!

Camila jumped. It was definitely coming from the front yard - this time it sounded a bit like a car backfiring, but much louder and much closer. The thumps were getting more frequent too, almost like a heartbeat - thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump!

She looked out the window.

There was… something swirling and morphing on the front lawn, trying and failing to manifest into a single unified shape. She could just about see the frame of a door, and a swirling landscape of… nothing behind. It almost hurt her eyes to look at. Yet she could just about swear she could see a silhouette through the shifting, swirling frame.

Luz!

She raced to the front door and threw it open, just in time for the door frame to settle - only a little, as the edges still twirled and twitched like a heart in cardiac arrest. The figure stepped forward, and Camila realised there was another held in her arms.

She stepped into the light, and Camila’s heart skipped a beat.

The figure was about Luz’ age, she reckoned - her hair was a bright purple, with edges of brown, and she wore what looked almost like a robe with purple sleeves and pants. Her eyes were a hazel brown, and her skin was pale - but more remarkable were her pointed ears.

And yet Camilia’s eyes focused on the limp form in her arms, her brown hair messy, her tan skin covered in cuts and bruises, and her breathing heavy and laboured.

The other girl spoke, her voice shaking.

“Are you Luz’s mom?”

Camila’s hands covered her mouth.

“Luz,” she whispered.

She was running before she knew it, sprinting over to the limp form of her daughter. She barely heard the other girl; she seemed to be babbling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Emperor Belos, the golden guard, they-they came without warning a-a-and this was the only thing I could think of! Sh-she needs help but I don’t know…”

Camila took her from the girl’s arms, swiftly placing a finger on Luz’s wrist - a pulse, even and regular, if a bit shallow. Good sign, but she needed to get inside. She could go to pieces later; right now Luz needed her.

“It’s okay, mija, mami’s here,” she whispered. “We need to get you inside, come on…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to…”

Camila looked back at the girl as she turned to run inside.

“You can tell me about it later,” she said. “We need to lie her down.”

She raced inside - she thought she heard the girl sprinting after her - and ran into the living room, laying Luz down on the couch. Quickly she checked her temperature - seemed okay, but her skin was a little clammy. More important were the cuts and bruises. She needed bandages, and probably a hospital. She needed to call an ambulance, now, and…

“M-Ms. Noceda?”

The girl had arrived behind her - she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

“Can… can I try something?”

Camila opened her mouth to reply - what could she do? Luz needed a doctor! She needed a hospital, she needed…

Slowly, the girl stepped forward, standing over Luz’s unconscious form.

“Lilith said I wasn’t supposed to use this unless it was an emergency,” she said, “but I think this is an emergency, so…”

She touched her forehead to Luz’.

“With this spell declared… let the pain be shared.”

Camila stepped back, eyes wide, as both Luz and the girl glowed blue. The light intensified, and for a moment, she had to shield her eyes.

When she regained her vision, the girl was slumped next to the couch, sweating and breathing a little heavily; but Luz looked noticeably healthier, and many of the worst cuts and bruises were gone.

“What…”

“I shared the pain,” the girl said woosily.

“I… you could’ve hurt yourself!” exclaimed Camila. “Y-you have hurt yourself! I…”

“Yeah?” The girl chuckled humourlessly. “It’s worth it… as long as Luz is okay.”

CRASH! BANG! THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

Camila jumped and turned around. Outside the door, she could just about see the magical doorway violently twitch and swirl, thrashing like a trapped, wounded animal. For a moment, it seemed almost to be in a state of rage, as if it would lunge at Camila in a last, desperate effort; for help or to main, she could not say.

Then there was a loud pop, and it was gone. It was as if it had never been there.

“Your… portal?” Camila said, her throat dry. “It’s gone.”

“I…” The girl had hobbled to her feet and was gazing outside to where the door had been. She swayed on her feet.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, Titan.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, she swayed and dropped to the floor.

Camila looked down at the two unconscious girls; she mopped her brow, forcing herself not to panic or cry. She needed to keep herself together, to make sure Luz and her - friend, maybe? - were okay. Then she could cry all she liked.

There was a knock, and Camila turned back to the door. There was another girl, one eerily similar to Luz, standing there - she looked deeply confused.

“Camila?” she asked. “I-is everything okay?”

Camila swallowed, wondering how she was going to explain any of this.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #camila noceda #vee #fanfiction #writing #a blight on gravesfield

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cutiepisenpai · 4 years

Text

Gifted Part 3

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor porn reference, mentions of unsubs crimes nothing graphic, and one supernatural reference

The next Monday at work it was as if nothing had happened at least for Y/N. When she walked in at the same time as always, a chipper smile telling everyone good morning. She runs into Spencer in the kitchenette as he is making his morning coffee with too much sugar. “You know the consumption of excess sugar doesn’t actually provide you with more energy; it's a common misconception. If you ate more actual solid foods you would have energy. Eating an apple and a handful of almonds would garner better results.” Y/N says to Spencer referring to the ungodly amount of sugar he is pouring into his coffee. Spencer as most of his coworkers have come to know is not much of a morning person and rarely coherent without coffee in his system. “Is that why you’re so chipper in the morning. Because you eat real food?” He says groggily as he continues to pour sugar into his coffee. “No, I actually alternate between boxing and yoga to start my morning. And if you don't stop pouring sugar that will be molasses before you know it.” Spencer stops and looks down at how much sugar he had actually poured into his mug. It was too much but what the hell he would drink it anyway. “So, how was the rest of your weekend?” He asks. “It was boring, you know grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning, repacking my go bag, that kind of stuff. What about you?” What he didn’t want to tell her is that he spent the entire next day trying to figure out why she reacted the way she did, so he lied. “Oh just reading a new book.” “Oh really, what book?” She asked. He did not think that through and he hadn’t read anything new so he lied again. He thought of a book he heard JJ and Prentiss talking about, “Twilight, have you heard of it?” “You, read twilight?” She asks, with a knowing smirk on her face. “Yes, what I can’t read something that isn’t science or classic literature?” He asks defensively. “Oh I know I just didn’t take you for the tragic vampire romance kind of reader but to each their own. Sooo, what did you think about it?” Thankfully at that moment Hotch came to get them, they had a new case.

Their new case is taking them to Shreveport, Louisiana where a body had been found floating in a lake and upon further inspection after dragging the lake they found a dozen more bodies. When they land Hotch sends Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi to the lake, Y/N and Spencer to the M.E. and He and JJ go to meet the local police. Unfortunately for Spencer being stuck in the SUV with Y/N while driving to the M.E. 's office gave her time to interrogate him on his Twilight knowledge. “So what did you think of the book? Are you going to read the others?” Others?? Spencer thinks to himself how many of these are there. “It was good but I don’t think I will read the others.” He says hoping his mediocre response will suffice. It does not. “Care to elaborate? I have seen you dissect a blog post more in depth than that.” “No I wouldn't, we should be focusing on the case, not some book.”He says in a huff. “Wow okay no need to get defensive what insights do you have on the case?” She is met with silence, he didn’t have anything to say about the case; he just wanted to stop talking about the book he didn’t read. But she didn’t push him any further okay with keeping quiet for the rest of the ride. The M.E. informs that because of the deterioration of the bodies in the water the cause of death at this time is undetermined. “Is there anything you can tell us about the remains?” Spencer asks. “All of the victims are men and it appears they were all in their mid 30’s at the time of death and the earliest body shows to be about fifteen years old.” The M.E. says. “Well at least we know the unsub’s victimology. Is there any chance we will be getting any of these men I.D.’d soon?” Y/N says. “We’re working on dental records but that’s all we have to go off of.” With this information Spencer and Y/N head to the police station to meet up with the team. Getting out of the SUV when they arrive at the station, “Ugh I detest coming to the south, it’s so gross and muggy and humid my clothes are sticking to my skin. Why does 100% humidity even exist? It should just be called wet without rainfall.” Y/N says, pulling off her blazer and pulling her damp hair into a bun on her head. “100% humidity occurs when the dew point temperature is equal to the temperature outside.” Spencer says with a smug smile. He is met with a glare, “I understand the science behind it but that does not make it better. And how are you wearing like what four layers of clothing and have no problem with it?” She rants. “This is only three layers.” “You have on a sweater vest and a cardigan seriously how are you not dying?” He just shrugs.

Two days later and the team was having trouble with the case the ac in the precinct they were in wasn’t working and the increasing heat was making everyone agitated. Spencer was currently on a call with the M.E. regarding the official cause of death while everyone else sat around the table complaining about the heat. “So the M.E. says that the official cause of death is belladonna.” Spencer informs the team. “The porn star?” Y/N and Prentiss ask in unison. Spencer gives them a questioning look, “the poison.” “Oh” they say in unison again. “Belladonna is native to Europe, Northern Africa and Western Asia and it's not something you can bring through customs so how did they get it?” Y/N asks “They could have bought it on some kind of black market and then planted it here there is a lot of land and most people probably wouldn’t question it.” JJ adds in. This was the only lead they had so far so they had Garcia looking into it. With no other leads and nothing else to do for the time being Hotch sent everyone to their hotel rooms to rest for the night so they could start back fresh in the morning.

The team ends up not solving the case, the unsub was laying low after their disposal site was revealed. “Man this sucks.” Morgan grunts out. The team is on the jet heading back to Quantico all feeling a bit defeated by this case. “I know but if this guy ever resurfaces we’ll be back and we’ll get him then.” Rossi says. With that everyone relaxes for the most part knowing that every case won’t go their way. Y/N and Spencer are sitting side by side reading as everyone else has fallen asleep. “So, is that book better or worse than Twilight?” He really thought she had let it go seeing as though she hadn’t brought it up in the last couple of days. “It’s better more of my style.” “It doesn’t hurt to try something new. So what was your favorite part?” She really wasn’t letting this go, he wonders if she knows he is lying. She hasn’t been a profiler for too long; she might just be that curious. “How did you know I was lying?” He finally decides to just tell the truth. “From the moment you said Twilight. If you didn’t want to tell me about your weekend that’s okay I just didn’t understand why you felt the need to lie.” Y/N says turning back to her book. The rest of the flight is quiet, both of them joining the rest of the team and falling asleep. When the team arrives they don’t have any paperwork so they can just head home. “Did you drive today?” Y/N asks Spencer knowing he took the train sometimes. “No but don’t worry I can get home.” “I can give you a ride, I’m heading in that direction.” He considered declining but he didn’t want to go through the trouble of calling a cab so he accepts. The car ride was filled with unbearable silence. “I didn’t want you to know I was bothered by how you reacted when I hugged you.” Spencer says breaking the silence. “What?” “When I walked you home from the museum I hugged you and you tensed. Did that bother you?” Spencer says, his voice getting lower with each word. “Oh that wasn’t a you thing, I don’t usually hug people well except Garcia and that is not by choice every time she hugs me she tells me to relax and that I will get used to it.” Y/N says with a laugh. “Sorry if I upset you.” “Why don’t you hug people?” “I don’t have a real reason, it just feels weird and rather unnecessary.” “Well I’m glad you weren’t bothered by me hugging you.” Tension is gone now they have gotten into an intense conversation about facts on hugging. Pulling up to Spencer’s apartment they are ready to say their goodbye but they stay in the car talking, “So do you have plans for your days off?” Spencer asks. “Nothing.” “Would you like to go out somewhere together?” “Like a date?” Spencer has wanted that since they met on the elevator. “Yes as a date?” “Okay call me to let me know the details.” Y/N says with a smile before Spencer exits the car filled with joy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #reader insert #Female reader #x reader #bau x reader #derek morgan #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #Penelope Garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #Criminal Minds

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prismarts · 3 years

Text

A Bond That Lasts Centuries... (Chapter 2)

Plot: Hisirdoux Casperan, apprentice to Merlin, had been sent to the mortal realm to protect the mortals and finish the tasks given to him…. unknown to him and his familiar, an old student of Morgana Le Fay had been sent there by his master as well…

Notes: Mentions of blood and torture, i tried not to be too graphic cause I am no good at that stuff...., witch trials....yayyyy....., angst, Douxilly of course, inspired by AATY by @alovesongshewrote

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late 1500s

The 1580s was when it went south for the two apprentices still roaming around Europe, the people's worries and fear of witches grew to an all time high. Making it rather difficult to travel and finish magical tasks.

Illy had been a small local doctor in England at the time, but when the witch trials began, she grew paranoid of practicing medicine.

Her reasoning being her focus was always going to be on magical healing and as such, she might get caught for witchcraft. Luckily, she had found a relatively abandoned small house to live away from any of the mobs that would happen during this time. She tried to blend in and hide for the most part.

Douxie may have been smart to hide during this time too, but in late 1599, he wasn't as lucky...

Due to his eagerness to finish the tasks given to him by Merlin, wanting so badly to prove himself, he had elected to try and finish two of them at once to save him some time. Freeing a creature from it’s magical prison and securing another one of Merlin's artifacts.

It should have been easy....

But everything went wrong when the creature decided to attack him, and more importantly, the people around him. Douxie got captured once the mortals saw him using magic against the creature even though he was trying to protect them.... Even though, he used that magic to save their lives from said creature.

They saw him as a threat.

Archie wasn't able to stop Douxie from being taken away, he may be a dragon but he was also still a familiar who needed to be in his less conspicuous form of a cat, surrounded by an angry mob. Instead, he spent the next few days searching for Illy, hoping she could help him save his wizard.

The familiar eventually found the apprentice on the outskirts of town as he ran over to her, Illy, upon recognizing him, immediately lifted the familiar up into her arms. Carrying him to an empty alleyway where they could talk, knowingthere was too much at risk if anyone were to see them conversing.

"Archie? Wh...what are you doing her- w...wait...w..where's Douxie?!"

"H..he...they caught him. He's in the dungeons..." The familiar seemed to be shaking in fear and worry. Looking up at the apprentice quietly as his voice trailed off.

"N...no...h..how long.."

"A few days now, I...I wasn't able to stop them and I...can't get him out on my own...h..how did you manage to-"

"I...i lived outside of town....I was able to hide before anyone noticed anything magical about me...." Illy shook her head worriedly, "B..but that doesn't matter....w..we need to get Douxie out..."

The two ran towards the castle dungeons as they wondered how they were going to do this. Having been too panicked over Douxie's safety to form an actual plan, they hid out somewhere nearby dungeon entrance to plan things out.

"I'll distract the guards, you sneak in and look for Douxie." Archie suggested as he looked up at the apprentice who was understandably afraid. Illy had never been in a situation like this, she was barely strong enough in magic. How was she going to pull this off?

"A..are you sure?...wh..what if I can't get him out?.."

"You can, Illyria... don't worry about me, just stay low and get Douxie out as quickly as you can"

Illy nodded shakily, watching the familiar shapeshift into a black raven. Archie flew off and proceeded to peck at the guards, bothering and distracting them. The apprentice watched quietly and found the perfect moment, running into the dungeon.

She focused, making a glowing light appear on her hands and looked around the dim dungeon cells. She could feel hear her breathing quicken out of worry as she almost ran through the hall, turning her head around, only stopping every second to check every single dungeon cell to see if her friend was inside.

'Please...please please be here....' She thought to herself, her fears grew worse as she felt her anxieties heightened when she couldn’t find him. Were they too late? Was Douxie gone? Did they-...... Did they kill him?...

The apprentice stopped in her tracks, her entire body felt cold and her face looked pale as she stared at the dungeon cell in front of her, the turquoise hue of her magic glowed as it revealed the wizard she had been searching for...

Except she could barely recognize him, Douxie was chained to the wall. His blood dripping down his head and soaking his hair in a dark crimson. He was limp, dangling from the chains. His clothes were stained red almost completely and was ripped in tatters, his arms and legs visibly bleeding out with large slashes and wounds.....

The dark red, a stark contrast to his now pale skin....

"D..Douxie....no..no no.."

Illy panicked, she looked around in fear, trying to find something she could use to break him out but instead deciding to blast the cell gates open out of complete adrenaline. The metal bars of the gates flew around the spacious cell, landing with a loud clang as it hit the stone floors. She ran over to the bloodied and tortured apprentice, she could have sworn....he flinched at the sound of the metal.

She blasted the chains until they broke as she grabbed Douxie's arm and slung it over her shoulders as she hoisted him up. It proved difficult, seeing as how he was much taller than her but she was able to while levitating his legs up.

Illy ran back out of the dungeon cells as quickly as she could, knowing that Archie was still distracting the guards. She was able to get out and rush past them, but felt herself suddenly stop in fear as she was soon surrounded by other guards and townsfolk.

The guards were starting to surround her and Douxie, she was still levitating his legs up and showing obvious signs of magic. But her fear was only powering her aura even more...

She put her arms up defensively but shakily, she didn't want this.

She never wanted to hurt anyone, "S..stay away! P..Please...just let us go!"

The crowds started to get aggressive, they kept walking closer towards the two immortals. A clear motivation to kill and burn them as they carried torches and weaponry with them. The almost paranoid bloodlust in their expressions as they inched closer.

The apprentice was shaking in fear, not just for herself but also for Douxie, he had suffered so much and was obviously, fatally wounded. She didn't want him to die...she couldn't. She knew she had to find a way for them to escape but she didn't want to kill any innocent mortals who were just....afraid.

They were just afraid of beings that they didn’t understand, afraid that magic could hurt them....

She tried to think quickly, continuing to back away while carrying her wounded friend. Her mind started to race from all the panic as her turquoise eyes glanced around until she caught a glimpse of his rune bracelet, the same one he uses to channel his magic.

An idea struck inside Illy’s head as she backed up with Douxie still draped over her. She wasn't sure if it was a good plan, she wasn't as powerful as the wizard who was limp in her arms. Her magic wasn’t as stable... as...reliable.

But it was the only option she had left, carefully she hoisted the apprentice in her arms up a little more, closing her eyes worriedly for a second before saying the incantation.

"Interminus nocti sluumberso!!!"

She would have kept her eyes closed but she didn't as the magic aura seemed....brighter with hints of..... a familiar sky blue dancing around the turquoise glows of her aura.

Illy's eyes widened as she looked around, everyone surrounding were effected by the spell and were now in a deep sleep but...how?

Her magic was weak especially when it came to spells like that....

She was surprised and confused before remembering the blue glow that seemed to have collided with her magical aura, her heart started to swell in the realization.

The apprentice quickly tuned her head down towards the limp wizard as she saw it...his bright sky blue magic fading from his hands and bracelet.

He...helped her..

She soon shook her head, starting to levitate Douxie's legs again and running towards her home. Shee met back up with Archie, who had taken the form of a bear, helping the smaller apprentice carry their wounded wizard. Illy was shaky as they did so, she was still visibly traumatized by the sight of how bloody her friend was...but she didn't let it get to her...not now..

She couldn’t....

As soon as they got the apprentice to her small house, Illy levitated him to the bed and immediately asked Archie to get her a bucket of water and some rags as she worked to get the bandages, needle and threads, levitating them over towards the bed.

Living through the plague, she helped a few plague doctors treating the patients of the disease and picked up quite a bit of medical knowledge.

It took about an hour, from the sheer state of it all but she was able to clean, stitch and bandage the wounds all over Douxie's body as well as heal the ones that were still bleeding...

Her healing has gotten particularly better over the past couple of hundred years.

The tortured apprentice was still unconscious which was understandable from the amount of injuries he sustained.

Illy practically collapsed on her knees, staring down at her hands and clothes both stained in Douxie's blood, making her shake violently. She hugged herself and started to sob shakily.

Tears didn't stop falling down her face as her breath hitched, she could barely breathe...she could barely think....

She wasn't taking this well at all...

Archie saw the complete devastation and fear in the girl's shaking. His ears flatten at the way she was sobbing and struggling to calm down.

He walked up to her in his cat form, purring and nuzzling her to calm her down. She shakily looked down at the familiar and petted his ears, her breathing was erratic, uneven from the traumatized state that she seemed to be trapped in.

Worried about her friend’s condition....

She could barely say a word...but was grateful for his concern....

Illy sat there quietly with Archie as they stared at Douxie, she could only hope they were quick enough to make sure he'd be alive but only time could tell...

#toa #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #3below tales of arcadia #trollhunters tales of arcadia #douxilly #douxie x oc #toa douxie #toa archie #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux #douxie #douxie casperan #tales of arcadia oc #A Bond That Lasts Centuries

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leopardprintismybrown · 4 years

Text

Time for confessions

(From Music Life August Issue 1985)

In May, Queen made their sixth visit to Japan. Despite the disturbing rumous of a breakup, the concert was still amazing and once again the Japanese performance was a huge success. After Freddie’s interview for last month’s issue, this month we will share an interview with Roger Taylor and John Deacon. They will be open about confidential topics never shared before: the truth about the breakup, what will happen to Queen…

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★ This was the best tour even according to them

First of all, this year’s concert was awesome. It was very impressive and, in my opinion, it was better than any previous performances.

Roger: Really?! Thank you so much. Even in our opinion, this world tour was the best we’ve ever done.

John: Before coming to Japan, we’ve performed in Australia and New Zealand. Our last time in Australia was nine years ago and this was our first time in New Zealand, but the concert in Sidney was particularly great.

Roger: Exactly. 70000 people attended the 4 concerts in Australia. The tickets were all sold-out and right about that time the album was at the second place, it was amazing. Though, apparently, it was the wrong season. The weather in Australia is usually very nice, but it kept raining throughout our stay!

Well, well… And how was the response of the Japanese audience?

Roger: Very good! It’s not flattery, I’m serious. Since the security was strict, I had the impression that the people weren’t participating as expected, but everyone was singing with us and it was great!

John: Speaking of which, yesterday Roger and I were discussing about how many times we’ve performed at the Budōkan. I guess 15-16 times, maybe 17?

The staging and the set changed but it was as impactful as ever. When did you start with that stage set?

John: After “The Works” was completed. We started with the European tour. Then we toured South America, Brazil… and after that Japan. The one who designed that stage was…

Roger: Me! (laughs) Then with our tour manager we thought of a stage designer in Los Angeles. Basically, it’s the atmosphere of the movie “Metropolis”.

I was overwhelmed by the stage set, but I was really surprised to hear the early Queen numbers such as “Liar” and “Seven Seas of Rhye” because I wasn’t really expecting to hear those songs…

Roger: Uhm, we selected the songs together. The tour with this set started with Europe, but in the middle of it we wanted to include some early songs, too. Then we decided to do a medley with 5 early songs and to put it into the set halfway through the European tour.

John: We’ve played so many songs so far, that I even forgot some of them. It was so hard to remember! (laughs)

★ The scary story behind Rock in Rio

I have a few questions about “Rock in Rio” that took place in Brazil on January of this year. You’ve already played concerts in Brazil so far but this was the first time in Rio, right?

John: Yes, we’ve been to Argentina and Brazil in ‘81, but we only played at Sao Paulo Football Stadium. This was our first time playing in Rio, but the hall and the audience was great.

Roger: It was the biggest concert we ever did. We did two shows, the first day and the Friday night, and each one was attended by 250000 people. Everyone sang with us and the atmosphere was great! There was no violence.

John: And we were lucky. The two nights when we played it didn’t even rain. It was an outdoor location and the rain could have been a problem. The ground gets messy because of the mud... It rained the day Rod Stewart played.

Did you have the chance to watch the performances of other bands?

Roger: Of course. I saw Whitesnake. I also met Cozy and…. Oh yeah, I saw Rod Stewart.

John: I didn’t go… the venue was so distant. However, there are bars with televisions in Brazil and groups of young people watched together the part of the event that was broadcasted every night. AC/DC were good.

Would you care to share some interesting anecdotes?

Roger: Oh! I have a lot, but those are not properly the kind of stories to tell. (laughs) Because it was like a 10 day long party.

John: Oh yes, a lot happened…. Let’s see… The first day we had a hard time. Rio is a traffic jam. For this reason, the people in Rio leave their cars on the road when it gets jammed and walk. So we decided to go the venue by helicopter, just in case. However, the road was not packed at all and we arrived way too early.

Roger: Yes, we had to be at the venue by 6 o’ clock and we couldn’t be late. It’s good that we arrived early, but our set actually started at 2 in the morning! Next time we’ll go by bus no matter what!!

John: Also, it was fun to be able to meet people we haven’t met before. With him (if you look at the picture on ML April Issue, he’s pointing at Neil Murray) it was the first time. Oh, this is a picture we took at the party in the hotel (he’s looking at the picture of Brian with a local fan), Brian looks drunk. He jumped into the pool. (laughs)

What?? I can’t imagine Brian jumping into the pool! Well, now that you say that, his hair and trousers are soaked… Anyway, it looks like you enjoyed “Rock in Rio”! (laughs)

Roger, John: Yes, a lot! (laughs)

★ It was difficult (The Works)

It’s been almost 12 years since Queen was formed…

John: Yes, it’s been 12 years… 12 years! (he suddenly makes the imitation of an old man) 14 years that I’ve known the other members.*

In these years you’ve established your own musical style, you’ve released many wonderful records, and you’ve written a brilliant and shining page in the history of rock. And also, each member is now working individually as a musician. Is there a special reason for working outside of the group?

Roger: Uhm, my personal reason is simply because I like to work.

John: It was very difficult to complete “The Works”, to be honest… Of course, all of us want to pursue Queen. But it’s true that preserving the group is hard. When we entered the studio, we had a lot of expectations but it was as if the time was just flowing rapidly without realizing it… The recording of “The Works” took too much time and it was a bit tiring. Four people were not on the same page, musically speaking... though, of course, we made it work in the end, somehow. But this is the case for every band that has been around for years.

It must be difficult, because every member of Queen is an independent musician.

John: The next plan is to take a break for a while and then go back to the studio around November. This time we’re also going to change the producer.

Do you already have ideas for the new album?

Roger: I have something vague in my mind, but nothing concrete. I want to do something different from “The Works”. I think that “The Works” is a good album with a mix of modern and old elements, but we have to keep changing. “Tonight” by David Bowie was a mistake, in my opinion. The album was released too soon and it hadn’t changed enough.

★ Break up? We will someday

Do you want to do something in particular in your time off? Is John going to make a solo album?

John: I thought about it. I went to a little studio in London but I don’t have time to think during tours. But when it comes to singing… I’m sorry, but I need to get someone’s help for the song. (laughs)

And Roger? Are you going to make a third solo album?

Roger: I have no plans for a solo album but I’m producing something, lately. Sideway Look, Jimmy Nail… Jimmy Nail made it to the top 20 in the UK charts. It was the first record I produced, so it’s all the more satisfying!

Are there any musicians or bands you want to produce in the future?

Roger: Yes, a lot. Jeff Beck, and also Rod Stewart. It looks like we can do a good job.

Have you listened to Freddie’s solo album?

John: I’ve listened to some songs, but not to the whole album, yet. “Made in Heaven” is a good song.

Roger: The one I like more is “Made in Heaven”, too.

Finally, I’d like to ask a slightly more serious question. There’s been rumours about Queen breaking up…

Roger: (bursts into laughter) Mwahahahah…

Of course, I don’t want to believe in these rumours, but I’d like to know the truth.

John: Well, someday we will breakup. But does anybody know when this someday will be?

Roger: In these 14 years, we’ve always denied with a firm “NO!” whenever someone asked about Queen breaking up. That’s just a rumour. There are absolutely no plans to break up at the present day. I wonder if everyone wants Queen to break up so bad... (laughs)

John: Certainly, touring is getting harder, because we have to completely change the shows and the approach. But it’s been decided that we’ll work on the new album starting from November.

Please continue your work with Queen forever, no matter what form you want it to take in the future. I think this is the wish of all the fans.

Roger, John: Thank you very much. You’re right, that is way better than breaking up.

Ok, this is really the last question. What do you want to do in the future as members of Queen and as individuals?

Roger: Personally, I want more kids! (laughs) As a Queen member, I want to be more successful in America. It’s true that we have a certain notoriety in America, but the last album didn’t sell that well… Well, there are ups and downs in everything. That’s why I want to hit big in America again. To achieve that, we must do a looooong tour centered in Midwest. (laughs)

Roger and John have clearly denied the breaking up of Queen. They’ve talked about ambitions for the future, like achieving a bigger success in America. Their eyes focused on the future have still not lost their glow.

*I don’t own the magazine where this interview was released so I cannot double check. I think the numbers have been reversed because Queen formed in 1970 before John met them. And if you read further below, Roger mentions 14 years of activity.

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A/N: As always, I am not an English native speaker, so forgive any possible error. Also, remember that translating into a foreign language is difficult and I hope I have preserved the original meaning.

#translated by me #music life #music life magazine #queen #queen interview #queen in japan #80s #80s Queen #roger taylor #freddie mercury #Brian May #John Deacon #rock in rio #1985 #the works

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