#If you want me to continue the chair analysis

[erexart]

Pookie the way I screamed the scrumpt I scrempt-

Purgatorium Part II

Kyojuro Rengoku x ArrangedMarriage! Reader

cw: 14.1k words, canon typical violence/injury, alcoholism, mild parental abuse/neglect

part one here

Every cell. Every fiber felt like it was trying to break free from your body. You had no idea what you were about to learn, and your implosion felt inevitable if you didn’t find out. 

The head of the Butterfly Mansion, the Insect Hashira, greeted you at the door. “Thank you for coming so swiftly, and by yourself. I am aware of your father-in-law's condition as well as how young your brother-in-law is.” She slid on a pair of white linen gloves before continuing.

“I’m sure you would like to know why my crow alerted you so suddenly.” If you weren’t wracked with panic, you would’ve admired her graceful, natural beauty. It seemed her almost enigmatic equanimity was the only thing keeping those around her, including you from spiraling. 

Her measured countenance and calm voice couldn’t have contrasted more with the state of the room around her. Three kakushi were slumped over each other, their faces to the wall quietly crying. Meanwhile other small girls with similar butterfly hair clips went in and out of the room beyond her with a controlled franticness. 

“Please listen to me carefully.” Her amethyst eyes pierced yours with a seriousness that was frankly, unsettling. “There was a confrontation between the Flame Pillar and the 3rd most powerful demon of Kibutsuji’s ranks about an hour ago.” Your breath catches in your throat, at the words. The 3rd most powerful demon? 

“He sustained severe transfixion trauma to his epigastric region. We moved quickly, and kept the demon’s limb in place as long as we could, and in that time he was able to stop most of the blood loss using a breathing technique.” Your hand shakily covers your mouth, the savagery of the attack, and the horror of such an injury were almost too much for you. 

“The amount of pain he is managing while conscious is unnatural, and quite concerning. We have been trying to sedate him since he arrived, but he begged to wait until you got here.” Her sharp gaze left you finally, shifting to the floor. “Despite his state, he was quite stubborn, and resisted our attempts to give it to him anyway.” 

You speak in a tensed whisper, “C-can I see him?” Each syllable was dragged from the pit of your body, you needed every bit of strength to not lose all composure. 

“Yes, quickly please. I trust you understand the criticality of this situation.” Shinobu looked over her shoulder to a young girl with bright blue eyes and pigtails as she turned into the room that seemed to be at the heart of the commotion in the Butterfly Mansion. 

“Aoi… please pull up the sheet on the Flame Pillar.” The girl’s brow furrowed in concentration, releases as she sees you, expression softening as she nods to Shinobu before disappearing behind the room’s entryway. 

“You can go ahead now.” Shinobu tells you finally. Upon her permission you begin hurrying into the room Aoi just turned into. “I just want to remind you we are doing all we can, and he is relatively stable for now… but… just be prepared…” 

You look over your shoulder back at Shinobu, words failing you before going in. The air hung heavy beyond the doorway, three little girls stood to the back wall awaiting orders while the slightly older girl, Aoi lighty ran a damp cloth over Kyojuro’s forehead. Delusionally, you imagined it was due to his warmth, the perpetual warmth emanating from his body everywhere he went, and not the onset of a stress induced fever and intense pain.

He laid, left eye wrapped in layers of bandage wrapping around his head, the thin hospital bed linens drawn to the base of his neck. Each of his labored inhale and exhale audible, a testament to his will actively clinging him to consciousness and keeping the looming threat of bleeding out at bay. 

His right eye fluttered open at your presence even without saying a word, the keen instincts of a warrior sharp as ever. 

“My flam-ACK.” He jumped to sit up, only for a guttural cough to send an abrupt jolt through his body, putting him onto his back. Laying immobilized once again, his breathing intensifying. 

“Rengoku-sama! Your wound! Shinobu-san told you not to move!” The little voice of one of the young girls behind you calls out her voice cracking, riddled with fear. 

His face contorts in discomfort, straining to utter “My apologies…” The words tumble out almost as if he doesn’t even know who he is saying it to; the little girls, you, himself, or maybe someone not even there. 

You look deeply into his uninjured eye, the bright golden orb that even now was completely free of clouds. You kneel at his bedside, feeling tears beginning to burn in the corners of your own eyes, you try to keep your tone as reassuring as possible and not let on how terrified you are. “Everything is going to be ok, alright?” 

His lips curl into a soft smile, his gaze softens, melting into yours like a stream of amber. You waited anxiously for a response, any response.

“Are you in pain?” His gentle expression remains unchanged as if he had just awoken from an afternoon nap, looking back at you. 

“Not anymore… If you’re here, I won’t feel a thing. I am fine, please do not worry.” His eye clamps shut as another searing pain courses through his body, making his breathing stutter again with a curt strangled groan. Despite what he said, it was clear he was in agony.

“Kyojuro…” Your brow furrows with concern as your eyes rake over his battered form. You look deeply into his eye intently trying to imprint every detail into your mind, as if the light may drain from it at any moment.

You didn’t even hear Shinobu’s delicate footsteps on the wooden floors or notice her until you looked up to see her at his opposite bedside, you were taken aback by her sudden presence. You shouldn’t be surprised, she is a hashira after all. 

“I’m sorry. We cannot wait any longer for the sedative. The more time goes without it…” She spoke solemnly, as though she knew what she needed to do, but almost didn’t have the heart to do it, almost. 

You felt one of the three small girls try to pull you back by your arm, “Ma’am please! Shinobu-san needs to work, you need to leave this room!” The words don’t even faze you, unmoving from your spot at his bedside. Making it clear to the entire Butterfly Mansion your stubbornness was only matched by Kyojuro’s himself. 

“Please don’t take him from me, not now. Please don't let someone else abandon me.” 

The words echo in your mind, like a cacophony of a lifetime of anxiety thrust to the surface all at once.

“She can stay. I’ll allow it.” Shinobu spoke, not taking her focus from the vial as she filled it with a solution, flicking it firmly to disperse any air bubbles. 

You feel the small girl release your arm going back to stand with the other two. You kept looking at Kyojuro, scared to look away, as if it was the last time you would ever bask in the warmth of his gaze. 

“My flame, let me tell you a few things.”  His voice was steady but strained, each word laced with sincerity.

“You don’t need to say anything… just save your strength.” You felt as though you were pleading with him at this point. 

“You’ve done enough, just rest.” 

You want to say to him, but you could see the seriousness on his face. Every man deserves to do with their last moments what they wish, and if these were just that, you would not be the one to deny him that. 

“Please, I want you to tell Senjuro he ought to follow the path he knows to be true, whatever path that may be. Remind my father to take care of his body.”

You look at Shinobu, almost as if to ask if there should be more witnesses to what could be the last words of the Flame Hashira, but she continued working, not even glancing down at you as she began administering the vial.

“And I want you to know that I love you.”

The tears you held in your eyes finally began to escape, your vision was cloaked in obscurity, but what did it even matter? As if anything was truly clear right now.

“I love you too.” That was clear to you if nothing else. What were otherwise the three most beautiful words one could utter to another, felt like they were just another deep wound you both inflicted each other with. Had he even heard what you said? Knowing him, he would feel personally responsible for the notion that another person would be agonizing over his condition.

The onslaught of emotion finally manifests in a strangled sob, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your sleeve. Seeing his golden iris enveloped beneath his closed eyelid and breathing softened, it is obvious the vial Shinobu gave him had already taken effect. 

Pressing the back of two fingers to his forehead, the only thing that you can use to ground yourself is that same unyielding warmth he radiated.

—————————————

You aren’t sure how many hours you’d been in the room. Time didn’t feel like it was passing. Maybe a part of you thought that if you kept looking at him long enough, you could pretend maybe he was finally getting the rest he deserved and not in a catatonic, forced respite from the wound that should have taken his life.

“You should go home. I’ll keep an eye on him personally.” Shinobu's voice was lighter than the chirp of a sparrow. “Trust me, the best recovery is sleep. Sometimes slayers sleep for months here, regaining their strength.” 

You cock your head over your shoulder to look at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She raised a pointed finger, she was like a doll the way a perpetual contentment was painted to her face, it was a bit uncanny. 

“Not that I’m saying this will happen here. I induced the comatose state he is in, so everything is controlled, I made the compound so that he would naturally awaken when his body is in better condition.” 

This woman was truly a genius apothecarist, how did she even learn to make such a solution? 

“I see…” You didn’t want to stand yet; you craved just a moment more in his presence. You try to smile at her genuinely, but you knew it must have looked just as contrived as hers did. You didn’t have Kyojuro’s gift—the ability to smile authentically and joyfully, no matter how bleak things appeared.

“Before you go, can I give you his personal effects?” Your eyes moved from the floor to meet hers, nodding with the same polite smile still plastered on.

Shinobu took a package that couldn’t have contained more than a couple items from one of the youngest girls that helped around the Butterfly Mansion, transferring it into your grasp. 

Removing the thread and paper encasing the items, Shinobu stood unmoving before you, her eyes following your hands. Despite the smile she armed herself with, her gaze deepened, like this was something she understood all too well. 

Seeing the familiar kaen pattern, you stroked the back of your hand across the sturdy fabric of the Flame Hashira haori. Only to freeze as you feel something solid wrapped inside of it. Without hesitation, you reached within the white accented garment to pull out a rectangular box.

Could it be? Sliding the lid from the basin of the firm container to see delicate metal and crystal intertwined to make a plum blossom hairpin, the same kind that had saved your life not long ago. Your hands tremble uncontrollably as you remove it from its resting place.

“We found it in his pocket, even with the aftermath of the battle and the panic as he was rushed in, he implored us to be gentle in handling it…” 

After your first hairpin broke he must’ve planned to bring a new one for you that morning. Even with a gaping wound, he was concerning himself with being able to offer you an undamaged gift to replace the one he initially gave you when you arrived.

You clutched the package as if it was sacred, like maybe that if you didn’t, it would all slip through your grasp and cease to be like everything seemed to at the moment.

“Thank you for everything…” You finally broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. You lower yourself to bow to Shinobu, before leaving, perhaps leaving a part of yourself behind as you do. 

 —————————————

There was a general malaise of silence at the house in contrast to the mid morning light, seemingly blanketing the grounds as if it was just another day. Something felt wrong about returning here alone from the Butterfly Estate. You scoured for the younger Rengoku, no doubt wanting– needing an update on the state of his older brother. 

You finally found him sitting alone in a room holding a sheathed sword in his lap. His head lowered as if in surrender, he was trembling as if terrified of what laid beneath the sheath.

You didn’t even know Senjuro owned a blade, it seemed ornamental at best. It looked as though it had never used a day since it was forged. 

Upon seeing you, his hazed and shaky expression was replaced with a mix of worry. Before he could ask you the burning question that had no doubt been haunting him, you notice a patch of tender skin on his cheek, an abrasion that looked as though it would bruise. 

“What happened to your face?” You lean lower yourself next to him to inspect, running your thumb over the skin, flushed red and running warm from the inflammation.

He turned his face to conceal the sore cheek from your view, putting his own hand over it. “One of the other swordsmen that joined brother on the mission came by the house…” His gaze faltered, shifting to looking at the ground. “He wanted to apologize… he was ashamed,  for not being able to do more in that battle.” 

“Father began insulting my brother, then suddenly was enraged by the slayer. Things began escalating. I tried to protect the slayer, and Father hit me…” 

You couldn’t believe the words you heard. You were sickened to your core. Beyond the scope of a Hashira, the scope of a patriarch, how could a father act this way? 

Words are one thing, as merciless as they were, especially to a man fighting for his life, but to strike someone so much smaller and weaker was despicable. Both were so egregious, it was impossible to even say which was worse. 

Taking a moment, you calmed yourself down, grounding your thoughts before responding. “Are you ok?” 

Senjuro kept his face angled down and the evidence of the violence that had occurred in your own home while you were out. 

“I’m fine… this is nothing.” He dragged his sleeve across his eyes with a soft sniffle, you could see how hard he worked to hide his emotions coming to the surface, there was something more important to him. “My brother… is he…?”

“He’s… sleeping, that’s all. They’re doing everything they can… ” You feel a lump forming in your throat at the words. You didn’t want to acknowledge what you were both thinking just as much as Senjuro didn’t want to. 

“I-I see.” His gaze stayed low to the ground, even as his fists balled at his sides with resolve. “Maybe… it will work now. It has to.”

Senjuro shakily removed the blade from its cover, sticking it straight in the air, looking up at it with anticipation. The sword quivered in the trembling hands of the boy. He looked up at it as if it was a beacon with the ability to connect him to a higher power. He stared up, waiting for something, anything to happen. Releasing a resigned exhale, his head dropped as the tears he had desperately held back began to flow freely. 

“I really don’t have any talent at all.” He looked up at you, dejection etched into every one of his features, “I prayed this day would never come, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to carry on the Flame Hashira. This time, more than ever, my nichirin sword needed to change color. But even now, it refuses to. All because I simply don’t have what it takes.”

He set the sword down, his palms face up on his knees, silently sitting on the tatami floors. You wrap your arms around him, feeling him starting to shudder against you punctuating each sharp sob. 

“Do you want to know what your brother told me to tell you before he fell asleep?” You lower your voice to a murmur. 

“Wh-What did he say?” he stuttered, his lips pursed and voice trembling, but there remained a glint of hope evident as he stared at you, waiting intently to hear. 

You spoke steadily, trying to fully encapsulate the sincerity of Kyojuro’s words, hoping if he could hear his brother’s voice through you, maybe it would comfort him in ways you never could. “‘Walk the path you know to be true, whatever path that may be.’” 

He looked up at you, his glassy eyes widened, you could see him absorbing every syllable as if it was from a holy text leading him into enlightenment when the shoji door flew open to both of your shock.

“Senjuro! What did I tell you about the blubbering? I can hear your pathetic crying from across the house! As if Kyojuro hadn’t done enough, you had to show that Sun Breather how weak you are too! As if our family couldn’t be any more humiliated!”

Senjuro’s face drained of color, his pupils trembling at the intimidating figure in the doorway. 

“You’re the eldest son of this family now, so learn something from your fool of a brother!” He gritted his teeth, now speaking to no one in particular. “Trying to supplement his own inferiority, trying to make up for our insignificant bloodline, I have no doubt he used that cursed form to try to salvage a battle he was doomed to lose from the start. He should’ve never even picked up a sword to begin with!”

Cursed form? Sun Breather? Did he mean the boy with the earrings that Senjuro spoke of? You had learned to ignore most of what Shinjuro said; these ravings were likely just another temper tantrum fueled by the stuporous overindulgence he found at the bottom of several bottles. 

The discomfort hung like a chill in the air, filling the space between the fragmented inanities of the harsh words echoing through the room. Shinjuro finally lumbered away, the jug still tied around his wrist. You sat in the silence left in his wake, almost envisioning Kyojuro in that hospital bed, each breath he took and each pound within his chest a cry of hope.

You close your eyes for a moment before speaking in a hushed voice to Senjuro, “Your brother believes in you, always has. He’s fighting so he can be sure to come home and remind you of that himself.”

—————————————

“This hurts like hell!” The Sound Hashira grumbled to no one in particular. Kyojuro could only watch as his fellow Hashira limped from the doorway into the hospital bed the Butterfly Mansion staff had apathetically pointed to. 

The young nurses reassuring him that the Insect Hashira would be there “when she gets the chance” to treat his injuries. The adrenaline from battle must’ve finally dissipated by the time he reached the Butterfly Mansion.

After settling in with a few labored breaths, the man finally turned to his side, noticing Kyojuro in the bed beside him.“Rengoku? How long have you been up? Why are you still here?” 

“A few hours. Kocho has been keeping a close eye before she discharges me, but I should be good to go by now. Nevermind that though, what happened to you?” He had never seen the Sound Pillar as battered and bloody as he appeared before him now. 

“Remember how I was organizing some infiltration into the Entertainment District? Looking for an upper rank?” Kyojuro nodded intently, he was well aware of the operation in the Sound Pillar’s sector before he even boarded the train. 

“Well, we found it. The district is leveled, but we defeated the threat. And look, the two of us are matching now, and I even got one up on you.” The man gestured to his own covered eye before waving his left arm, permanently disfigured.

Even in this state, Uzui always had something to say to lighten the mood. Kyojuro always respected that trait in him, it was one of the primary reasons they got along as well as they did.

“You didn’t…” Kyojuro searched for the right word to describe the Sound Pillar's hobbled gait as he made his way from the entrance to the cot where he was now confined, as respectfully as possible. “Ambulate…  yourself all the way from Yoshiwara I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” The Sound Hashira shook his head with pride. “My wives were there for me, of course. But Kocho said they couldn’t help me inside. Something about a very strict rule with spouses not being allowed to enter the Butterfly Mansion for any reason.” 

Uzui spoke with restlessness, trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed clearly not befitting his frame before trying to read the face of the Flame Pillar beside him. “Did she tell you about that too?” 

Kyojuro’s eyebrows knit together. “I was not aware of such a policy…” He said slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what his fellow pillar was referring to with each word. He affixed his gaze upon his comrade’s arm, bandaged shoddily in the heat of battle, severed at the wrist.

“As a dual wielder…” His lips pursed as he analyzed the sight before him. “You may have to adapt your swordsmanship.”

Kyojuro chuckled before resting his hand lightly on the covered wound punctured into his abdomen, “I was quite concerned for myself, but fortunately recovery is an option for me as well. It’s all of no matter, we will just have to train harder and get back to where we were!” 

Uzui studied the face of the Flame Hashira looking for any shred of sarcasm. “A-are you serious?” His eyes widened with shock, glancing down at the tightly wrapped bandages over Kyojuro’s chest.

“Of course I am, what are you trying to say?” Kyojuro looked at the Sound Pillar inquisitively.

The Sound Hashira exhaled sharply, lowering his eyes resolutely with a soft smile, “I’m stepping down. I’m done fighting.” Upon processing the rest of what Kyojuro confidently announced to him his head jerked to face him in disbelief. “You aren’t actually considering going back are you?”

“But as pillars-” Kyojuro was cut off mid sentence, his curiosity now only building with what his friend was telling him.

“I like to think I’m Lord Uzui Tengen before I’m the Sound Pillar.” He declared matter of factly, before his tone devolved back into its characteristic quippiness. “You’ve always blurred that line, but most bastards lucky enough to take a hole in the chest and live would see themselves the same.” 

Kyojuro tried to think back to the exact moment of impact, the demonic fist piercing his flesh, in the face of what could only be described as certain death had he drawn a distinction between the two?

Kyojuro’s ponderance was interrupted by the petite form of the Insect Pillar shadowed by the younger girl with blue eyes and pigtails coming in the doorway seemingly with no urgency at all. “Thank gods!” Uzui exclaimed, the exasperation ripe in his voice. “I thought you all forgot about me!”

Kocho spoke her voice sweet and light as ever complimented by the poignant, contented countenance she always had. “Oh dear! Of course not!” She gestured to the three youngest Butterfly Mansion girls to bring her a tray with some instruments and antiseptics. 

Tears formed in the corner of their eyes as they approached the Sound Hashira’s bedside to hand it off to their master, clinging to each other and hurrying away once they did as they were instructed. 

“Hey Kocho, do you have any painkillers or anything before you stitch me up?” Uzui spoke with a tinge of desperation, one he was clearly trying to suppress in the presence of others.

“Unfortunately, I don't recall we have anything strong enough for you here.” The Insect Pillar spoke with a curt sharpness.

The blue-eyed nurse with pigtails was much easier to read than her master. Even with the grimace she typically bore while concentrating on work, there was a particular scorn in her eyes that seemed to run deep. She stared daggers at the Sound Pillar, it was truly a distaste only unpleasant familiarity can foster. 

The Insect Pillar worked, doing little to prepare her patient for her next action, hastily attending to the injuries of her fellow Hashira. Her doll-like smile unchanging as heavy handedly she doused his deep lacerations with antiseptic before stitching them shut with fresh bandages.

Upon finishing, she walked away without another word or so much as a check in to ask how the Sound Pillar was feeling now, even though she hadn’t seemed to be rushing to another bedside as she retreated without a second glance

Uzui released the grit of his teeth following his treatment, sincerity filling his tone. “About your injury, sorry I didn’t come see you. I had my crow watch closely; it told me you were stable in Kocho’s care, although maybe that should’ve been something that worried me more than it did.” He squirmed in place momentarily, no doubt feeling some residual discomfort in the absence of anything to ease his pain before being treated.

Kyojuro shook his head “No, the staff here is the picture of gentleness and care for its patients, Kocho and all her sisters treated me with the utmost kindness and consideration.” 

Uzui looked out the doorway to see the three youngest Butterfly Sisters looking at him with aversion, still on the verge of tears, while the blue-eyed pigtailed nurse’s contemptuous stare only intensified in her master’s absence. 

The Sound Hashira chuckled to himself blithely. “Huh. You don’t say.” 

His gaze moved from the main room beyond the doorway back to Kyojuro in the hospital bed beside him. “I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the district once I stopped getting updates from my girls.” A playful smirk crossed his face again as his solemn tone brightened, “I figured mere Upper Three wouldn’t be enough to take you out. I trust you understand.” 

Kyojuro looked at him knowingly with a reassuring smile, “Of course. No need to explain any further.”

“You know, the kids that were on the train with you volunteered to come to the district with me. The Kamado boy in particular gushed on and on, don’t be surprised if you start getting fan mail from him.” 

A warm smile crept across Kyojuro’s features at the mention. Hearing they had all recovered quickly and been assigned another mission while he had been out, made every drop of blood shed feel all the more worth it. He really had been able to protect them as he was expected to after the train incident, even if he in  the end failed to finish off the upper rank. 

“Ah yes, young Kamado. Truly good natured. I’m sure he would speak fondly of anyone who fought by his side.” He folded his arms across his chest assuredly as he always seemed to when he felt idle. 

The Sound Pillar moved his one good arm casually behind his head. “I don’t think just ‘anyone’ could have done what you did in the first place.” 

Uzui sighed. “You’ve done good, Mister Flame Pillar. I think you deserve to just be Rengoku now.” Kyojuro tried to hide the thoughtful pensivity welling behind his eyes before spreading across his face. Kyojuro knew he had always been able to read like a book, trying as he might to hide how he felt.

“Ugh. No need to do the Tomioka face.” The Sound Hashira said less than affectionately, He feigned annoyance, but his genuine concern was evident. “It’s up to you of course, but I think you should take a cue from me and go home to your wife now. Give my best to your mini-me.”

—————————————

By the time Kocho had let him leave the Butterfly Mansion, she wrapped his bandages extra taught, surely expecting he would have removed them the minute he was out of her sight. She was not wrong, he had definitely contemplated tearing them off before he returned to his home. 

But he knew he ought to leave them for now. Show the bare wound? Too disturbing. An eyepatch felt too drastic, permanent. Even though he was told to be cautiously optimistic at best on recovering his sight in that eye, bandages gave the hopeful impression to both his family and himself that regaining his vision was not out of the realm of possibility just yet. 

And there was the matter of crutches. He’d declined the nurses’ offer without a second thought. He wasn’t above using them, of course—he had used crutches before when it was necessary. 

But this time felt different. This time, he had come closer to death than he ever had before, closer than he had ever imagined. The weight of that knowledge was still fresh, he liked to think that was to blame for the piercing sensation beneath his ribs rather than the obvious.

Turning the corner into his ancestral home, he was not surprised to see his brother doing his daily chores per usual. Senjuro swept the entryway with a thousand yard stare. His gaze was unfocused, the bristles haphazardly brushing over the floor as if he wasn’t truly seeing it beneath him. He seemed to move mechanically as if the incessant noise in his head left him catatonic. 

As much as he wished Senjuro would let others help him, he knew productivity usually brought him peace of mind. Likely now more than ever thanks to his extended stay at the Butterfly Mansion riddling them all with uncertainty. 

Upon seeing him, Senjuro dropped his broom, his hazed expression replaced with overjoy. He ran over stopping himself in his tracks before jumping into his still recovering older brother’s arms.

Senjuro’s smile faltered as he took a small, hesitant step back, his gaze flickering down to Kyojuro’s chest, then back up to his face. He looked scared to get any closer, as if Kyojuro was made of glass and the slightest touch would make him shatter before his eyes. Kyojuro slowly opened his arms, donning his iconic smile brimming with warmth and familiarity. A simple reassurance.

That was all needed for Senjuro’s momentary unease to be erased. Without a second thought, Senjuro closed the distance, throwing his arms around his elder brother in a tight embrace. 

He let out a slight hmph slightly faltering backward for a moment. The pressure against his abdomen was not exactly comfortable, but that did not stop him from tightening his own arms around his little brother. 

“Thank gods Kanroji-san brought some sweet potato and sakura mochi earlier! I would’ve made more if we had gotten a crow you were discharged!”

Kyojuro did not have the heart to tell Senjuro he had been living off extra salted miso soups and herbal tea since awakening, and was told to continue doing so until breathing was more comfortable.

Kocho had mentioned that at least three times as he left the manor. She must’ve correctly suspected yet again his own appetite was a potential hazard to his recovery. Even castella cake was too solid and dense for him to consume in his condition. 

“I will have to thank my former tsuguko for her thoughtfulness when I see her next!” He tried to remain as lighthearted as possible as he declared what no one ever believed they would live to hear him say.  “As delicious as that sounds, I am not hungry at the moment!” 

“Not hungry?” Senjuro repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You?” His eyes raked over his elder brother searching for the cause of such an anomaly. 

Just as Senjuro inspected the state of him, Kyojuro noticed the dark circles beneath his brother’s eyes, and the complexion of his face paler than he remembered. 

“I am simply so full of energy and vitality I have no need for anything to eat! Why don’t you off from your chores for the rest of the day, Senjuro!”

“A-are you sure?” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was. 

Kyojuro put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, a gesture that always seemed to make Senjuro feel more at ease. “Certainly, you look as though you could use rest. I will take over for you”

Not being deterred in the slightest Senjuro replied, “No I can do it I promise!” Senjuro swiftly took his broom back into his hands as if to prove he had no reason to not continue as he was before Kyojuro came.

 “She’s doing the laundry for me already outside. So at least let me do the rest of the chores!” The younger Rengoku boy seemed almost frantic as he tried to prove that he was still more than capable of carrying out his perceived responsibilities.

 Kyojuro was momentarily taken aback looking into the fuzzy silhouette of a reflection of himself, one that went deeper than their appearance. 

He had spent the better part of his life encouraging and reassuring his brother, for this exact reason. He had foolishly believed that maybe that would be enough for Senjuro to ignore the example that had been before him since their mother had died nearly a decade ago. 

There were many things he was capable of protecting him from, however there remained some things he could only try to ward off. He was more than happy to act as a human shield to all the unpleasantness of the world he had dealt with himself. 

That was not to say his brother was delicate. Senjuro’s meek and sensitive exterior was not beguiling of his fiercely loyal and indomitable spirit. His patience was seemingly boundless, while being the most empathetic person Kyojuro had ever met. Senjuro’s maturity was indeed far beyond his years.

In spite of all of this, Kyojuro wanted him to have had a normal and carefree childhood. Maybe if they were another family under different circumstances, in some kind of a perfect world, Senjuro would not be confined to doing household work all day. He would have a plethora of friends to enjoy the blissful innocence of juvenility, with two loving parents at home, and no perceived expectations he was forced to inherit or self-condemnate over. 

Most of all he would not feel the need to fight for the validation of others, or establish his worth in his actions. While he could not protect him from loss or neglect, surely he could do that much even now.

There was no use grieving over what could have been, the reality was Senjuro had begun to take after his own tendencies. Something he could never forgive himself for being the cause of if it went too far. His own resolve was still strong, but he could at least try to set an example of self preservation when Senjuro was watching. 

He took the broom from Senjuro’s hands once again, leaning it against the wall beside them.”Why don’t we both take some time off today!” He proclaimed as confidently as possible. Senjuro’s shoulders, which had been taut with unease, dropped and with them Kyojuro breathed his own sigh of relief.

He no longer protested his elder brother’s suggestion to get some rest. Kyojuro walked his little brother to his room. As he followed, the younger boy barely lifted his head, his gaze still unfocused, lost in the exhaustion that clung to him. 

Tucking him into his futon, Kyojuro adjusted the pillow beneath his brother’s head, fluffing it gently, even though he knew Senjuro wouldn’t mind either way. He moved deliberately, his smile unchanged despite his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but hope that his little brother wouldn’t notice the subtle shift in Kyojuro’s actions today—the slight urgency in his insistence. 

Perhaps fatigue dulled Senjuro’s emotional intelligence enough that he failed to detect the thinly veiled half-heartedness behind him emphasizing they deserve to both call it for the day. He had been home for moments, and on bedrest before that while Senjuro had been beside himself with worry, maintaining their home. Kyojuro felt dread pool in his stomach, the thought nearly sickened him.

Once making sure his little brother was comfortable in his futon, he rose from his crouched position to his feet again, clamping his eyes shut with a sharp exhale at the shooting pain through his abdomen at the sudden movement. 

Luckily, Senjuro had succumbed to exhaustion the moment his head touched the pillow, sparing him any more anxiety over his big brother’s condition. 

He was embarrassed at how rapidly even the simplest tasks; walking, standing, really had exhausted him. Kocho had not necessarily given him advice on activity now that he was no longer in critical condition, she just reiterated not putting “undue strain” on the body. As vague as that was, he figured he must be experiencing some version of that as his breath became more labored as he walked through the corridors of his own home. 

Almost as if moving against his will, he lowered himself into his futon. He hoped maybe he could get some sleep as soundly as Senjuro, his head barely made contact with the pillow before he drifted off  even with rays of early evening daybreak still illuminating the sky. 

He was happy he had managed to soothe the terrifying thoughts eating his little brother from the inside while he was recovering at the Butterfly Mansion. 

Hopefully, Senjuro genuinely believed things were right in the world again, and that he had no need to prove himself to those around him any further. If he did genuinely believe that, Kyojuro envied it. 

—————————————

The laundry had kept you busy from the late afternoon until the sun hung low in the sky, and you were grateful for the long days of summer, which offered a grace period of a few more hours of safety outside.

You must have looked strange in your tsumugi woven silk kimono, churning laundry by the creek. You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, before brushing your hands over your hair to ensure the hairpin was still in place. You refocused on the task at hand, gripping the sentakubō with both hands once again. 

The water stirring and forming small whirlpools as you plunge the wooden paddle into the melange of soaking garments with a slosh. You raise the paddle up before submerging it again, fabric swirling in the sekken infused water. 

These were the ancient methods Senjuro had told you had been used for centuries in the family. 

“Drinkable well water is too precious to be used on clothes, there is flowing mountain water just beyond the gates by a small grove of wisteria trees. That’s where we have done laundry for as far back as I know of.” 

The fatigue evident in his every motion momentarily ceased for him to give you particular instructions before you handle the household laundry on your own for the first time. 

In Tokyo, you heard some families had found ways to pump water into their homes. No access to wells or streams necessary. You were unsure whether to be skeptical or amazed at the Western innovations being integrated at breakneck speed into the capital, but the Rengoku family seemed utterly disinterested and unimpressed by anything that brought them away from the techniques of the past. 

Regardless of the flow of time, the Rengoku family had yet to betray the techniques of their ancestors that had never failed them before.

Perhaps they felt both indebted and venerated by the practices that had upheld their name through generations of Flame Pillars and centuries of war against man-eating evil. Each Hashira over the ages living long enough to pass on every aspect, no matter how trivial, of traditional lifestyle to their children and then their children’s children. 

Proof of demons and time alike being unable to erode them into nothing more than history, a bloodline persisting even today, against all odds. 

Your nose prickled at the herbal scent of the laundry solution you had handled for the past few hours soaking, scrubbing the items against the ridges of a washboard before draping each clean textile over a clothesline to dry in the tepid air. 

It was dull, tedious, and somewhat exhausting work, but anything to take your mind and a piece of your heart from the Butterfly Mansion was a welcome distraction. 

As you carried out mundane household chores as of late, you had made it more engaging by picturing Kyojuro watching you with pride, a glint of familiar affection in his eye. 

It only pushed you harder to put your all into everything you did, regardless of how unremarkable it may seem to others. That was what he would no doubt do in your shoes.

—————————————

You had expected Senjuro to be milling about getting things done for the same reason when you arrived back at the estate.The broom leaned against the wall of the engawa was telling enough to you he must’ve finished his daily tasks up and retired into the house for the time being. It might have been slightly unusual, but not anything provoking much cause for concern otherwise.

You looked forward to idleness for the remainder of the evening. Slipping into fresh clothes, you made your way to your room, eager to lie down and rest. 

As you walk the corridor, a blur of fiery colors ignites in your peripheral vision beyond the sliding door of a room that had sat empty as of late. Was that? You freeze in disbelief. 

“Kyojuro?” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, even though you know the chances of him hearing you from this distance without even seeing your lips were low, but it doesn’t stop your heart from leaping in your chest nevertheless.

Eventually he must sense your presence, his unwrapped eye meeting yours, and in that instant, it feels like everything else fades away. He shifts from his reclined position to sit upright. Even just sitting up in his futon, you notice the subtle tension in his body, the familiar way his arms instinctively cross in front of him—, a pose you know he adopts when idle, as idle as he was capable of being anyway.

You had seen him like this before, when he was always on guard, always ready for battle. The weight of responsibility had never left him, even when he wasn’t fighting. But now, in this quiet moment, it felt almost surreal. You felt a wave of relief flood over you—he was here. He was home.

You didn’t know whether to run over to him, break down into tears, fall to your knees thanking every god and spirit that was looking out for him, or all three at the same time. He watches you with that familiar intensity in his eyes, but there's something softer now, an unspoken heaviness in his gaze

“You were resting… I’m sorry for the disruption.” You did something you hadn’t done since you arrived at the house, lowering your head into a bow. It simply felt appropriate, the least you could do was show your respect, as unnatural as it felt. Kyojuro blinked, taken aback by your gesture, his brows clenching together in confusion as he watched you. 

There was a moment where his eyes seemed to search yours, as if uncertain how to respond, had a distance that great grown between you? You raised from your bow before he could tell you it was ‘not necessary for the likes of him,’ your grasp taking hold of the edge of the shoji door to drag it shut. 

“I’ll let you enjoy some peace and quiet.” Your words felt inauthentic as you spoke, it wasn’t what you wanted, but it felt like what you deserved. You wished you knew what to say to him, but how could you? You could do nothing but watch helplessly while he writhed in pain waiting for you at the Butterfly Mansion. 

Standing by watching the sparks fade his eyes, feeling the room grow colder and colder still. Was that really all you could do? 

Every night since then, you had hoped for a miracle, that you would wake up and he would be back. Now here he was and all you could do was grapple with the futility of your every effort against the inevitable, one that would have come to pass with or without your consent. Like almost all else in his life, he overcame this on his own.

He tilted his head to the side trying to catch your downturned gaze with a soft smile, “You know” He paused until your glassy eyes met his. “I’ve had enough ‘peace and quiet’ for this lifetime.” 

He hesitated for a heartbeat, there was an almost imperceptible urgency in his tone, as though the simple request held more than he could express. “I would enjoy your companionship…” His eye locked onto yours, and you could hear him telling you what he truly felt, but couldn’t bring himself to say, “Please don’t leave me alone…”

Your fists closed around your sleeves as you looked on from the doorway. 

“Could I lay beside you?” You meant to ask gracefully, but a tremble caught itself at  the end of your words. In spite of you both being wedded, something ignited embarrassment within you at your own request. You weren’t quite sure what his experience with such things were, but you certainly had none to speak of. 

You had been confident everything would be ok, but a part of you filled with dread at every crow that flew overhead. Terrified, one of them was Shinobu-san informing you regrettably that they had failed, and he was gone. You just wanted to be close to him, close enough to hold onto and hope he wouldn’t come so close to slipping away from you again. 

“Absolutely!” His boyish excitement quickly commanding sincerity, his voice lowering to just above a breathy whisper “I mean… you do not need to ask. I am yours after all.”

If anything was capable of soothing the apprehension you felt, it was hearing him deliver an enthusiastic exclamation. You studied him, your eyes drifted down again to his arms crossed on top of his chest. Whether be a barrage of responsibility or self doubt, he always carried a tension palpable in every fiber. 

In a gentler world that asked for less of someone like him, maybe he wouldn’t need to. But even if he was not of that world, you could create a piece of it for him to dwell in. A place both his weary body and mind could be at ease.

You lowered yourself into the futon, trying to not focus on your heart, beginning to quicken, as the sound of his breath became audible each inhale and following exhale affirming to you he was alive, and he was yours.

“Am I making you nervous?” You asked genuinely, seeing his shoulders tighten and arms stitch together more tautly and a rouge flush across his cheeks even in the low light. 

He conveniently subverted your inquiry, rebounding it back to you.“You are not nervous, are you, my flame?” His tone seemed to waver in its usual certainty. 

“Not with you…” Even the intoxicating stillness, you cannot help but notice his strained comportment.  “You’re so stiff…”

He spoke no doubt a bit louder than even he anticipated, “Not stiff!” His sudden surge in volume took you back, the abruptness of his response leaving you momentarily unsettled. But as his words settled into the space between you, you quickly found yourself adjusting again into comfort.

“Just a habit, I assure you.” His voice was softer this time, a hint of something more raw slipping through his usual certainty. “I have been trained to be vigilant, at all times. I suppose it’s just how I’ve learned to exist.” 

“Hm. I see…” Your brow furrowed, pursing your lips together almost imperceivably. You extend your arms to place one hand on each of his shoulders, meeting his gaze you search the embers of his unbandaged iris for any sign of discomfort before cupping your hands. 

You, for only a moment, feel the heat of his gaze rake over, consuming each inch of your form. It was enough to make your skin prickle under its blistering intensity. Being used as its fuel, a slow burn ignited in your chest, radiating outward in waves, trailing sparks down to your fingertips and toes. You pry your eyes from your own hands back to his blistering stare to catch his lashes flutter briefly, clenching his eyes shut as if mentally reprimanding himself. 

Your palms take in the dense sinews forming sharp lines and curved ridges beneath your palms, before you push them down from their contraction. His arms finally dropping from their cross to his sides. You try to cut through the tension imparting a squeeze in a circular motion to the corded muscle between your thumb and fingers. 

As the pressure deepened, a soft, involuntary shudder rippled through him, a sudden tremor that surged from his shoulders down to his spine. It caused him to partially heave forward, his posture faltering as his head tilted to the side. A strangled sound—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper—escaped his lips.

You pull back your hands instinctively. “I-I didn’t mean…”

He shifted slightly, avoiding your gaze for a brief moment,  the blush deepening down to his neck. “I... I think I made a rather odd sound just now... My sincerest apologies” He spoke just above a murmur, his tone uncharacteristically timid, and pupils blown wide. “I must have broken my Total Concentration Breathing. I-I just… did not expect that to feel so good.”  

After a moment, his voice came again, a little more vulnerable than usual, almost tentative. “May I hold you?”  For a man so often brimming with confidence and conviction, this sudden bashfulness was endearing, almost disarming.

You echoed the words that had made your heart flutter since you heard them, “I am yours after all.” As the moments stretched on, the world outside began to blur, your breaths falling in sync with his. His hand trailed absentmindedly through your hair, his touch lulling you closer to sleep. Just before the haze of slumber overtook you, you felt him press the lightest kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as though committing the moment to memory.

And so, wrapped in his embrace, safe within the steady glow of his presence, you drifted off. For even in sleep, you knew you were wholly his, and he, yours.

—————————————

Kyojuro found himself restless with the first breaks of light, the flecks of dawn slowly spreading from the base of the horizon as the sky remained inked with the deep indigo of night. 

He sat up, given the opaque darkness of the sky it was hard to believe that golden rays of light would cut through the boundless pitch black expanse above him.

Since he had awoken, he had begun to be enchanted by things he had never paid much mind to before. The way the dawn happened to bleed into night, if there was nothing else you could rely on in this world, there was solace to be found in the consistency of daybreak. 

No matter how empty the void of night seemed, the dawn would overcome it anyway, illuminating the heavens without fail. Admirable. It was truly admirable.

Turning his gaze toward you, his heart softened even further. You lay curled beside him, your expression serene in the half-light, your hair tousled from sleep. Kyojuro couldn’t help but smile—bright and warm, though he kept it quiet, not wanting to disturb you. He leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to the crest of your hairline, lingering for a moment as if to savor the touch.

"Rest well," he whispered, his voice low and affectionate. Carefully, he slipped from the futon, each movement deliberate and gentle so as not to disturb the stillness that wrapped around you like a cocoon.

While cooking was outside his expertise, he was more than capable of boiling water in a hagama with tea leaves. 

As he entered the main room to prepare it, he noticed his father already seated with his gaze fixed on the sky. Kyojuro’s  instincts made him want to turn around and recede right then and there, before stopping himself.

“You are up early, Father.” Kyojuro shifted his head to the side almost as if to hide his face. He could hardly bring himself to face the former Flame Hashira. In his father's eyes, the cold sweat on his brow and the ghostly pallor of his skin would no doubt serve as a (half) living testament to the very words he had insisted upon to Kyojuro for years.

His hand quivered as he sprinkled a spoonful of the tea leaves into water before beginning to boil them together on the wood stove. 

Shinjuro hardly acknowledged the presence of another behind him more than a quick glance over the shoulder. His expression was as equally austere and annoyed as usual.

Similar to how Shinjuro kept his eyes firmly locked onto the slow ascent of the sun, Kyojuro relegated his own gaze to the kettle on the stove, barely looking away as the silence was intermittently broken by the sound of chimes swaying in the breeze.

When the water adopted the greenish hue from the tea leaves, he removed the hagama from the heat.

“Uh... tea, Father?” Kyojuro said as he set out two cups just in case. It was unusual enough his father was awake at dawn, and out of his room. He rarely saw Shinjuro eat or drink much, usually sleeping or drinking the day away, it would be even more unusual for him to break that pattern. But, he felt obliged to ask him anyway.

Shinjuro spoke, his voice gruff as it had been as long as Kyojuro could remember. “Sure.” He paused for a long time before adding, “Thank you…” 

Kyojuro looked up with shock, but only to look at the back of Shinjuro’s head once again. He poured the liquid into the cups, curls of steam wafting from each one with an earthy aroma. 

With one in each hand he brought it over to where his father sat at the edge of the room, the sky fading from nox to a peach tone as the apex of the sun became visible over the horizon line. 

He lowered his head as he placed the cup on the ground, Shinjuro’s scarred hand wrapping around it where it sat. Kyojuro slowly backed away from where he resided to leave him be.

“You can sit, son.” Shinjuro said, finally turning over his shoulder to meet Kyojuro’s gaze. Kyojuro moved closer again trepidatiously before lowering himself to the ground with a sharp exhale, the pressure on his wound making his face twist momentarily as he did so.

Kyojuro could not help but notice the thick, pungent smell of sake—a scent that had been a constant companion to his father for as long as he could remember—was completely absent this morning.

“In nearly 20 years as a pillar, I used that damned form three times.” Shinjuro spoke, his eyes not leaving the sky as he took a sip of the tea in his hand. “You’ve used it twice that I know of, but it’s been more times than that, right?”

Kyojuro did not even want to reply to his father’s probing, it would not matter anyway, they both knew the answer to the question.

The former pillar’s jaw clenched in grim recognition of Kyojuro's telling silence. However, the response was not angered, but seemed shackled with the heaviness of frustration.

Kyojuro took a long drink of the cup of tea in his hand, it was easier than thinking of the right thing to say.

Shinjuro continued, his voice steady but carrying a hint of weariness. “I practically memorized each word of the chronicles. The Breath of Flames like every other breath will always be derivative. Yet our swordsmen are the only ones who refuse to believe that. Neither the chosen ones nor those blissfully content with their own mediocrity use anything as foolish or self destructive as that damn 9th form.” 

Kyojuro knows the destruction he spoke of all too well. The gelatinous cartilage protecting the shoulders, knees, elbows, hip flexors, ankles, spine, it was all fickle. 

Once the body has worn it down, usually through decades upon decades of usage the grating discomfort of bone on bone friction rarely goes away, in many cases it can leave one chair bound from the intensity of every joint aching.

While all such an affliction can happen naturally with the flow of time, but the amount of power emitted from the 9th form was anything but natural.

The records of the ways of Flame Breathing made this clear to the user. Even by the standard of breath forms, which already amplify the body beyond its innate threshold, the concentration of power in the 9th form of Flame Breathing was exceptionally great.

The amount of strain on the body by the 9th form was more than some could handle. Some Flame Pillars of the past did not have the composition to use it more than once or twice at absolute most. The immense pressure on the body had a way of hastening degeneration. The form was strictly a last resort when facing a foe that needed to be defeated at all costs. 

The brighter and hotter a flame burns, the sooner it flickers out. Yet each time he was left with no other option but to use it, he did so without hesitation.

He had always fought to save lives with his body as little more than collateral in the grand scheme of his duty, so what did a few adverse side effects matter if it allowed him to prevail against a powerful demon that could go on to devour dozens?

Shinjuro muttered under his breath bitterly as if trying to suppress a visceral growl gathering in his lungs at the words alone. “The Breath of Flames, the Flame Hashira mantle, all of it, who gives a damn about a line of talentless fools breaking themselves just to end up average. It’s just a pitiful tale, nothing more. I’ve asked myself over and over why anyone would want to pass that on to the next generations.” 

He shook his head slowly with an exhale, his knuckles becoming lighter as he gripped his cup more tightly before releasing it again. “I knew I should’ve destroyed the infernal pages of the Flame Hashira Chronicles a long time ago.”

Kyojuro’s tone became calmer than even he knew it to be, almost as if unconsciously imitating the softness of how his own mother spoke to him all those years ago. “Whether it is pitiful or not, it memorializes their will. Their triumph, their struggle, none of it will go unnoticed, and they will be remembered fondly for their bravery and their role in our history.”

Shinjuro was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant still settled on the peach streaks as they became gold across the sky. “Did you ever read about my predecessor?” He grumbled with narrowed eyes.

Kyojuro’s brow furrowed into thought before replying. “Our grandfather, yes of course. I read about every Flame Hashira. It is a shame Senjuro and I never met him.”

“Trust me, you’re lucky you only ever read about him.” Shinjuro let out a forced chuckle before taking another sip. “Obsessed with the family legacy, he’d probably have carved ‘Flame Hashira’ into my chest the day I was born if he thought it would keep me from forgetting who I was meant to be. And just my luck—I happened to be the bastard’s only child. That meant all his expectations, all his delusions about immortality through legacy, fell squarely on my shoulders.” 

Kyojuro heard a pain in his father’s voice that he had only caught a handful of times before—a rare, almost fleeting vulnerability that Shinjuro rarely allowed anyone to see. His mind drifted back to faded, gilded memories. When his father’s smile had been constant, his pride unwavering. He could still recall the way his father’s eyes would light up as he passed down his sword skills to him and Senjuro, enthusiastic and patient.

Those memories were growing hazy with time, as though they were trapped in the mist of nostalgia, but the warmth they stirred within him was unmistakable. It was the kind of warmth that invigorated him—like the very ichorous blood of the Flame Hashira flowed through his veins, and he was destined for greatness.

“Perhaps…” Kyojuro murmured, his voice wistful, “Perhaps… He must have seen potential in you… " His eyes fell to the ground, his chest felt hollow as if the air was being drawn from it. "And that was the reason he pushed you so hard and did not ever give up on you...”

Shinjuro’s lips pressed together into a firm line. “Potential? No. He didn’t see me. Not as a person. I was a tool, a means to an end—a way to keep the Rengoku name alive, to make himself feel like he mattered.”

Shinjuro's voice held calm, but kept carrying the crushing weight of resignation.“Part of me wanted to show him I would be the last Flame Breathing user,” His eyes stayed distant, unblinking.

“Just let our name die out, fade into oblivion as a fragment of history. Just so my miserable old man’s last thought would be regret. That nothing he tried his damndest to maintain would last after one generation. I refused to be another cog in the perpetual machine.”

Kyojuro looked down at the swirls of green fluid in the cup as he held it in his lap. His voice curious as he looked over, as though trying to understand a piece of the past he had never been allowed to see. “What changed your mind?”

“Your mother…” Shinjuro’s lips twisted slightly, but not with anger—more like a quiet bitterness that he no longer had the energy to hide under anger or indifference. “But just like everything else, it was all futile, just a beautiful dream she was kind enough to let me believe in. Even for just a little while.”

Kyojuro’s eyes flickered, a quiet understanding passing between them at her mention.

Shinjuro let out a long sigh, setting his cup down with a soft clink, though his movements remained languid. “I don’t know if she fell victim to the suffering fate has ordained for us by becoming my bride. Maybe she stood a chance before then. But not us, if you’re born into it, you don’t have a choice, it's your cross to bear whether you want it or not. That’s the cruel joke. That’s the purgatory we’re bound to.”

The sun was higher now, and the colors in the sky deepened, casting a warm glow over everything.

Shinjuro’s voice broke the stillness again, his voice softer now than Kyojuro had known in so long. “I never wanted to be the kind of man to force a son to swing a sword until he vomited and his hands were torn open and bleeding. I should’ve never let either of you boys touch a blade. Just let the cycle end and be free. But you and Senjuro... you were always drawn to it. Always. I could see it in your eyes.” 

His gaze turned, albeit reluctantly, to Kyojuro, meeting his gaze in earnest. “We can’t help it, can we? It's in our blood I suppose.”

The sun was fully risen now, casting a golden glow over the room, spilling warmth across the tatami floor. Shinjuro, still staring out at the horizon, sighed deeply, a silent self condemnation. “I wasn’t capable of protecting Ruka, or the many junior swordsmen, or countless civilians, but I once hoped even a good for nothing father could protect his own children if nothing else.”

Kyojuro’s eyes lingered on his father, the warmth of the rising sun casting a gentle light on the hard lines of Shinjuro’s face. He didn’t know what he could possibly say. 

Kyojuro sat in the silence that followed his father's words, the weight of Shinjuro’s rare admission lingering in the air. He could feel the old, familiar tension between them, but it was softer now—more fragile, like the delicate balance of the morning light spilling across the floor. 

Shinjuro’s voice was both steady and solemn. "Kyojuro, you are a better man than I. You and your brother both. A strong man can learn from a weaker one how to become even stronger."

The words were unexpected, catching Kyojuro off guard. He glanced up at his father, his eyes searching the features of Shinjuro’s face for some sign that this wasn’t just another passing moment of wistful resignation. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone. Kyojuro’s chest tightened, though he didn’t fully know why.

Shinjuro took a breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, a faraway look in his eyes. “Just remember, you have a whole life ahead of you. It’s yours to do with what you wish.”

There was something in Shinjuro’s words that stirred in Kyojuro—a faint flicker of hope, like a spark in the dark. He wanted to say something, to respond, but the weight of the moment was so heavy, so rare, that all he could do was nod.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, before leaving on heavy footsteps.

There was something in Shinjuro’s words that stirred in Kyojuro—a faint flicker of hope, like a spark in the dark. He wanted to say something, to respond, but the weight of the moment was so heavy, so rare, that all he could do was nod.

Shinjuro shifted slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of his own body was a burden he carried with resignation.

He gave Kyojuro one last look, something softer than usual in his eyes, before he turned toward the door. "I’m going to go check on Senjuro. He’s been having nightmares lately."

Kyojuro’s gaze lingered on his father’s retreating back. The room felt quieter now, the silence settling between them like something solid. He wanted to speak—wanted to say something that could erase the years of distance between them, and his father’s regrets.

The warmth of the sun seemed to spill into his very bones, filling the hollow places with a kind of quiet understanding. It wasn't a resolution. It wasn’t a grand moment of reconciliation. But it was something. 

A rare crack in the wall that had always stood between them. And for the first time in a long while, Kyojuro thought maybe, just maybe, it was a step toward something else. Something better.

—————————————

He awoke to start the day as he had nearly every day for the past. Getting ready at dawn as he always did, cautious not to awaken you in the room beyond the thin panel walls. Donning his corps uniform kaen haori, against Kocho’s advice to receive help. 

Moving deliberately he raised his arms to twist the thick honey blonde layers of his hair, he felt a sharp pang in his abdomen. He froze in place, his eyes widened before clenching shut. The pain forcing him to grip the edge of the nearest furniture for support. 

His hand moved from his chest back to his sides as he opened his eyes slowly, a hint of embarrassment creeping over him. It was as if he feared that when his eyelids lifted, he would find disappointed faces gazing back at him.

He continued the routine that made him worthy of the rank of Hashira. His resolve only strengthened, it would not matter so long as he could prove to himself, he was still strong, the capable protector of others.

The sun’s early light casting across his face, he moved with purpose across the same grounds that he and generations of Flame Pillars before him honed their skills in the heart of the ancestral estate. The ground beneath him was packed earth, worn smooth from endless footfalls. 

Unsheathing his katana, he took a deep breath, grip tightening on the handle of his garnet nichirin sword. But the blade that was once a weightless extension of himself felt heavier, more cumbersome. 

Performing the stances he had forged into his very bones with the years. His fluidity between each form was lacking. Even in total concentration he found himself sputtering if his chest expanded too much on the inhale. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple in the Summer sun, the brine making the unhealed gash across his eye socket sting lightly. 

He was not blessed with the near supernatural acuteness of sense others possessed. Some of his comrades had such heightened perception, blindness itself was not even a burden. But he was quite the opposite, since the mission he lost most of his hearing, he had learned to instead rely on his vision to be fully aware of his surroundings at all times. 

In the line of duty, he even had trained himself to reduce the frequency of blinking so as to not let his own inability to perceive his surroundings with his other senses create an opening for an enemy to strike. 

Each swing and subsequent sharp ache in his abdomen was a reminder that not long ago, a demon had punched straight through his body as if he were hollow. A lifetime of working towards becoming a paragon of invincibility rendered worthless in an instant. 

He had spent his life mastering control over every part of his own body. Every fiber, every nerve ending. The idea he was spared by chance was nauseating. By chance, the blow didn’t destroy any vital organs, killing him instantly. By chance, the kakushi were able to move him quickly enough. By chance, he managed to wake up from Kocho’s induced sleep at all. 

Kyojuro shifted into the next stance, forcing his body to remember the rhythm of each fiery surge of power. He longed for the zone he could so easily slip into. When each cell of his body felt as though it burned with the intensity of his soul, no amount of pain or exhaustion could dampen it. 

The searing tenacity, the flow. Wiping his brow he found the warm flow he desired, albeit in a drastically different form. A crimson streak across the back of his hand was the last thing he saw before sanguine blood obscured the vision in his left eye once again. Pressing the heel of his hand against his eye once again in an attempt to stop the seep from the wound.

—————————————

You were well aware of Kyojuro’s routine, if he was off bed rest chances are he would go back to it even against the better judgment of others, and probably himself too.

So when you saw him sitting with his back to the house, cross legged in the middle of the training field, his katana sheathed on his right side a change from it usually placed on his left. Stranger than that, you had rarely seen him take breaks much less fully sit down on the grass. 

“Are you alr-You’re bleeding!” Once you were within his earshot, you 

He looked over his shoulder with his right eye anxiously following your exclamatory reaction. He assured you with a forced cheerfulness, though the flicker of uncertainty in his voice betrayed the bravado. “Although,” he continued, his tone lowering slightly, “I fear if Senjuro sees me like this, he might go into a panic…”

As much as you wanted to scold him for neglecting his own wellbeing for the sake of others yet again, he had a point. Senjuro had just been in a state of shock wondering if he would ever see his brother again. The last thing he needed was to see Kyojuro hurt yet again.

“Yes! I-I’ll get some first aid!”

You moved briskly back to the house to retrieve some standard medical supplies. Coming out to sit on his left side in the grass, mimicking his seated position with his back to the home. From the way you angled yourself, legs folding to your side, if Senjuro happened to walk by, perhaps he would just figure you both were basking in the sun on a nice day and nothing more.

You slowly shake your head as you begin to wet the clean cloth with rubbing alcohol. “You are an exceptionally lucky man, you know that?” 

He chuckled lightly, a glowing smile spreading across his face. “I suppose I am if a beautiful lady is willing to take care of me.” 

You sigh, glancing down for a moment fighting back a grin that will no doubt spread to you like a contagion. “Look up please.” As you asked, his irises shifted upwards as you moved the cloth in your hand toward him, the laceration across his left eye freshly reopened on full display, stretching clear across his eyelid and nearly severing his eyebrow.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Kyojuro Rengoku. You know what I mean.” You can’t help but smile through the scoff you force out, your attempts to remain stern and impress upon him seriousness foiled.

Holding the damp cloth with a steady grip, you approach his eye with utmost caution, ensuring you don’t accidentally brush against his ink-black lashes. You carefully touch the rag to his face, disinfecting the length of the wound, your movements deliberate and gentle. 

“No! I am merely speaking the truth you are-” His proclamation was halted by a wince at the sting from the antiseptic’s contact with the raw wound. 

“I’m sorry if that hurts.” Your brow furrows as you pull the cloth away, necessary as it was to do, it pained you to be the cause of any further bodily discomfort for him. 

You take a minute to find the most appropriate way to say what you mean, for both of your sakes. “First they weren’t sure you would…” 

You meet his gaze tacitly before continuing. “Then Shinobu-san tells you the chances of retaining sight in your left eye was nonexistent, and here you are breathing and seeing and yet you still keep pushing yourself to the point of coming apart at the seams.” You try to mask your unease, seeing him continue working himself beyond his limits, when he is already so fragile at the moment.

“At least wear the eyepatch the Butterfly Mansion issued you!” You implore with something of a half smile. The sheer stubbornness with which he dismissed every injury, no matter how serious, would be humorous if it wasn’t so deeply concerning.

“Oh please, I need no such thing! I’m doing nothing I cannot handle, I assure you.” That authoritative voice, brimming with optimism. It was so easy to hear it, and blindly take each word as fact. But you know better by now, you could’ve told him every bone in his body was broken beyond repair and he would probably still respond that way. Even so, you want to trust him to stay within his means. 

“Ok, ok you’re ‘fine.’ I understand.” You reply resignedly speaking on your exhale. “Just please just take care of your eye. You’ve always had the most lovely eyes…” You say looking deeply into the golden rimmed eyes of the man before you.

Usually, when those  spoke of the Rengoku family, they used the word "powerful" to describe their distinctive features—sharp cheekbones, avian-esque orbs, blazing hair, and the aura of intensity that seemed to radiate from them. They served as yet another irrefutable motif that connected each Flame Pillar to the long legacy of unrivaled swordsmen bearing the Rengoku name.

“Powerful” was no doubt a compliment. He had always taken pride in the honor of possessing the iconic visage of his courageous ancestors. “Lovely” was different though. It felt intimate, a word that captured a softness. One rarely used when likening the fierce warriors of the Rengoku lineage with description, or him by that association.  

“If you like them, then I am only more excited by the prospect of passing them onto our children one day!” He exclaimed, the ever present ember burning behind his gaze billowing into a roaring inferno with joyous fervor.

Your cheeks flushed like a watercolor canvas, rosy hues blooming across your complexion. He could only surmise in that moment the evident dilation of your pupils to be a product of shock, at worse maybe even discomfort. 

He had gotten overzealous again, it was all too easy for him to put his foot in his mouth and take someone aback when he felt impassioned enthusiasm overflowing from him. However, you didn’t seem jarred or off put by his sudden pronouncement. You gaze warmed, softly smiling back at him.

“Yes, me too.” Your voice on the gentle breeze was as steady and sincere. 

But for a moment, it all fell away. The corps, his family legacy, the pillars, all of it. Holding her knees gently on the grassy Earth beside him, looking back at him. Rays of light catching against her skin, wrapping around her like a golden embrace, illuminating her form with a radiance that seemed almost otherworldly. Her hair danced in the breeze, tousling it to frame her face with an effervescent allure.

He felt warmth creeping up his cheeks, just as it had for her moments ago. He desperately tried to suppress the flush as he turned his gaze downward, focusing intently on the ground.

Death or disablement. Kyojuro knew these to be the only two circumstances in which a pillar could honorably resign from their post. Here he was, neither dead nor maimed. The verdict ought to be clear as day. He was more than aware of the inevitable weakness that all humans must experience in time. 

But to face that inevitability when he could still do so much? If he could swing a katana, he had a duty to serve. Right? His father should have continued serving as the Flame Hashira until he lost his sharpness to age. 

But the day Mother passed, something died in Father, or maybe something already dead within him had begun to fester. Kyojuro always told himself that he would not succumb to the same fate, despair would not be the death of him, certainly not if even an Upper Rank wasn’t. 

“I have… a friend… who is thinking about their future as a Hashira.” Kyojuro spoke with an uncharacteristic softness, fingers fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.

You looked at him inquisitively before having what you believe to be a revelation. “You mean the Sound Pillar?” 

“Oh… right, yes. Uzui, of course.” Kyojuro's words stumbled out, a nervous smile flickering on his lips, eyes darting away, as if relieved to hear you identify the former Hashira, already settled on retirement. 

“If he decides to retire, does it mean he has lost his passion? Or maybe he is running away?” His voice raised closer to its usual vivacity, but the typical enthusiasm felt infected with an air of apprehension. His fingers tightened around the sword’s hilt, outlining the flame insignia swordguard with a deliberate motion of his thumb.

Before you could even think to answer, he pressed on with another question, his urgency palpable.

“What if…” He paused, lightly clearing his throat adding the aforementioned yet again, his cadence returning to its equilibrium. “My friend…” 

He looked deeply into your eyes, the bright vermillion honeycomb pools poured into yours like a gentle ray of sunlight at dawn, adorning everything within with its warmth. His words regained their normal directness in earnest. “Is worried the person he loves might not want him anymore, if he isn’t strong?”

You tilt your head, your gaze previously riddled with intrigue tempered tacitly at his probing, you understood now. “I’m certain the people in his life value him for more than something as superficial as his strength.”  

You put your palms flat behind you on the tufts of grass leaning back to feel the sun warm your face.

“I don’t think of ‘strong’ as a person, I think of it as a state of being. We are all allowed to be weak and rely on the strength of others, and when others are weak we can give them our strength. No one person has to be strong all the time.” 

More importantly, you saw through the electric personality of the natural born leader to all and the brave exterior of the warrior. You saw the man beneath it all. The kind of soul that was as tender as it was resiliently fortuitous. 

Hanging on every word you notice the intertwine of his arms, crossed against his chest as he clung on your every word with rapt attentiveness. You straighten your posture leaning toward him, interlocking your fingers to the corded sinews of his forearms, pulling them from their interwoven tensed state as you had done before.

You took his worn hands in your own. “Well I hope you tell ‘your friend’ as much. Although, I would like to ask you something now if you would allow me.”

“Of course my flame, anything.” he replied, his voice filled with earnestness, a bright smile spreading across his face. 

“Did you remember what I told you in the Butterfly Mansion? The last thing I said to you before you lost consciousness?” 

His eyes narrowed as they trailed off into thought. He racked his brain for the last moment of light before his eyelids fell heavily as the sounds around him dissipated into silence. Before the oblivion of the serum he was injected with took effect, only muffled words cut by sobs come to mind.

“Please forgive me, I cannot recall.” He bowed his head remorsefully before meeting you again with a hopeful countenance. “Would you tell me again, my flame?”

A rosy hue rouges your cheeks as you fidget from side to side where you sat, part of you didn’t want to tear your gaze from the safety of the trodden Earth . But you couldn’t stand the idea of missing a moment basking in the bright eyes of the man you nearly lost.

 “I told you that I loved you...” Your voice was a murmur, barely above a whisper, and as your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “I love you. I meant it, I love who you are. That will not be changed by what you are.” 

“I have never found many things in life that I could not bring myself to love, or so I thought.” “What a fool I was. I did not even know what that word meant back then. What a truly lucky man I am.” 

You would’ve liked to sappily argue that it was, in fact, you who was the lucky one. However, you knew the endless back-and-forth that would’ve followed if you did. 

So instead, you let both your body and heart bask in warmth from two separate suns—one worlds away, and one right beside you. You let the moment linger between you, content in the quiet truth that you didn’t need to say it aloud for him to know you felt the same.

To be continued...

Taglist: @rift-and-rise @leannathespacewerewolf @hellscampcounselor @hauntedaugust @obsidianlive @oh1boy @chocolatebannana2 @erexart @vaelzz @kalypsoox @jiy-une @mayyhaps @shinykidhumanoidclam

[pathologicalreid]

Could I request GN! Reader who is married to Spencer, and they have like a little bet that Spencer cant go a week without coffee? Mostly fluff, but maybe a lil angst bc Spencer gets sick going thru caffeine withdrawls? :D

running on empty | S.R.

spencer makes a bet to give up coffee for a week but ends up foregoing all caffeine

who? spencer reid x gn!reader category: fluff content warnings: caffeine withdrawal, spencer getting snippy, husband!spencer, teasing from the team word count: 871 a/n: a silly little one-shot for you my darling. part of me feels criminal making spencer go through any kind of withdrawal lmao. i hope you like this!!

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” you answered Derek’s question, looking over to where your husband was staring blankly at the files on his desk. For the past few weeks, Spencer’s nightly tossing and turning had increased tenfold.

Morgan chuckled from across the bullpen, “Maybe it’s all that coffee he’s been drinking.”

The suggestion likely wasn’t that far off, the heaps of sugar Spencer put in his coffee probably didn’t help his sleep schedule either

Putting her two cents in, Emily snorted, “Oh, come on. I’d challenge you to find a member of the BAU who doesn’t have some sort of caffeine dependency.”

Again, she probably had a point. There were at least two members of the BAU who wouldn’t entertain any conversation until they were at least halfway through their first cup of coffee. Spencer’s head snapped up, “I can go without coffee.”

You scoffed, “No, love, and that’s okay.”

“I can go without coffee, Y/N,” he told you seriously, “I’ll go a week without coffee.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, “Okay, a week without coffee.”

“What does he get in return for going a week without coffee?” Morgan teased, waggling his brows in your direction.

Whipping your head around, you narrowed your gaze at your co-worker, “It’s a secret guarded by the sanctity of our marriage, Derek,” you said pointedly.

Emily had made an excellent point, there was a certain understanding among the Behavioral Analysis Unit that everyone was entirely dependent on caffeine. The issue was that Spencer had cut out all caffeine instead of just coffee.

The first night, he had fallen asleep rather quickly but had been a pain when you had to drag him out of bed in the morning. The second night, he was perfectly fine, but ever since he woke up this morning, he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Figuratively, of course. You had been the one to wake up on his side of the bed this morning.

You leaned against the kitchen counter with your coffee in hand, watching Spencer struggle to pay attention to the words in his book. “What about just a small cup?” You offered, opening one of the cabinets to find a daintier mug for him.

He cleared his throat before snapping his book shut and sliding it into his bag, “Nope, are you ready to go?” He asked, checking his watch to make sure you’d be able to catch the metro this morning.

Sighing despondently, you nodded, drinking the remainder of your coffee in one gulp before setting the mug in the dishwasher, “Yeah, just let me brush my teeth.”

In response, Spencer huffed, “Well, hurry up, I don’t want to be late.”

“Why are the Reid’s looking so put out this morning?” Derek asked when you arrived, holding a travel coffee thermos in his hand while raising his eyebrows curiously.

Shaking your head, you looked at the rest of the team holding their go-bags, the last place you wanted Spencer to be was in the realm of a stressed-out police chief, but the two of you grabbed your things and followed the team out.

Furrowing her brows, JJ eyed Spencer suspiciously, “You alright, Reid?”

“I’m fine,” he said, tapping his foot while you all waited for the elevator doors to close.

Discreetly, you moved your elbow and nudged him, trying to tell him to cool it without reprimanding him in the company of your team.

Groaning, Spencer continued to flip through the filed in front of him, his caffeine withdrawal making it difficult for him to focus on anything pertaining to the case for more than a few minutes.

With the locals out of the room, you gently set a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Hey, why don’t we take a break?”

“Leave me alone.” Spencer snapped, garnering the attention of everyone else in the conference room. A lead on the case had left you with Emily, Derek, and Rossi, the latter of whom sped out of the door so quickly you were surprised there wasn’t a puff of smoke in his wake.

Your lips parted, just as surprised as the rest of the team that Spencer had chosen to lash out at you of all people. Setting your jaw, you spun on your heels and marched down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of tea. Begrudgingly, you dropped the tea bag in a mug and grabbed a paper towel for him to set it on once the tea was steeped.

Back in the roundtable room, you set the tea in front of him, “I’m not drinking coffee this week,” he said.

“I know,” you sniped, “That’s why you’ve been acting so impertinent for the last two days.” In your periphery, you saw Morgan and Emily slowly backing out of the roundtable room, wanting to avoid any sort of marital blowout. “Drink the tea, wingnut,” you told him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

His eyes flickered to the mug, obviously noting the tea bag string hanging from the side of the mug. “Wingnut?” He repeated quizzically.

Raising your eyebrows, you shrugged, “I call it like I see it.”

[roseyodditea]

Sneak a Quick Kiss - Harumasa x gn!Reader

Summary -> 1.6k words. Established relationship. 2 moments where Harumasa remembers you have to hide your relationship, and 1 when he decides he's had enough.

Warnings -> A 'lil suggestive in the middle (marked and optional)

A/N -> I'll be honest, I didn't expect to like writing as much as I do and I've been getting more support than I ever thought I would. Thank you :)

Image taken from ZZZ Wiki

— Close Call #1 —

You looked out of the window into the H.A.N.D Headquarters Plaza, watching people walk leisurely. You were in an empty meeting room, one of the many shoved in a forgotten corner of the large office building. This meeting room was often forgotten about, which just made it perfect for your purpose. The purpose that Asaba Harumasa was currently late to. You sat down on one of the chairs, spreading the folder of paperwork, figuring you might as well do work instead of letting the folder be just a quick excuse to anyone curious of the meeting between you and Harumasa. 

You were analyzing a document heavy with black bars of redaction, holding up the paper to the light to read the name of the hollow that was hidden under the dark ink, Melinoe. You bite back a small giggle, realizing that Harumasa definitely shouldn’t have told you about it on your last secret date night. You continue on your data analysis work, still waiting for the very late man. You two had started this little routine over a month ago, a weekly (sometimes happening even two to four times a week) recurring meeting disguised as a debriefing of Section 6’s hollow data. The meeting's true purpose was known to no one, and you hoped to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door closing, familiar arms draping over your shoulder, quick playful kisses being pepper across your cheeks. “Hey, darling~” Harumasa placed one more exaggerated kiss on your cheek before hiding his face in your hair. 

“You’re late.” You chide lightly, leaning back in the chair.

Harumasa huffed and let go of you, moving to instead sit on the table in the room, shoving aside some of the work you were doing. “Yanagi caused a meeting to run late despite both me and Miyabi wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.”

You stood up, moving to stand in front of him, a familiar hug playing out as you leaned your head on his shoulder, his arms resting securely on your lower back. “You’re still late. You’ll pay for that.”

“Will I now?” He said, his tone light and teasing, his hands sliding down your sides before he hoists you up on the table with him, your thighs straddling his lap. “What’s your price?”

“You have to host a dinner and movie night at your place, meaning you have to clean your apartment.” You giggle, leaning in a bit.

“Highway robbery, absolutely unfair price, what has the world come to?” He mutters back playfully before sealing your lips in a kiss. It was slow and patient, one of his hands cupping your cheek sweetly, the other on your lower back, keeping you close in his safe grasp. 

The sound of footsteps causes the kiss to break unceremoniously, you crawling off his lap immediately, moving quickly to sit in front of the papers you had set out, Harumasa scrambling to snatch up one of the papers to look busy as the door swung open, a janitor looking up surprised to see people in this forgotten about meeting room. 

“Oh sorry, are we in the way?”

— Close Call #2 —

(A/N) -> Make out scene contained betwixt the asterisks, feel free to skip if that's not your thing. Mwah mwah kissing, you get it.

***********************

Adrenaline pumped through Harumasa’s veins after a successful investigation in Melinoe, another large target successfully taken down. In this hyped up state, a lot of Harumasa’s rational thoughts when it came to you flew right out of the window, which was why you were currently pushed up against the wall of the parking garage outside of the H.A.N.D headquarters. You didn’t even care that the rough bricks of the wall were clinging to your clothes and your hair, how could you care when there were feverish touches and kisses being scattered across your body. 

Half gloved hands sliding up under the bottom of your shirt, tracing over your skin, desperately lips begging for more, wanting to celebrate this win with you. You haphazardly shoved off his bow and quiver, the sound of them clattering to the pavement beneath your feet not even reaching your ears, one of your hands moving to his tie, pulling and trying to loosen it in the heat of a moment. Harumasa didn't even care his beloved weapon was on the ground, instead moving to press his body even close, one his thighs moving between yours, wanting to be impossibly closer.

***********************

The sound of an “Enh-na!” caused the two of you to pull away from each other harshly with a pant, Harumasa looking down at the source of the sound. 

Agent Gulliver stared blankly, just holding up paperwork to you, the data analyst. His round eyes were unblinking, seemingly unaware of the situation he had just stumbled into. You and Harumasa were quiet for a few seconds before you reached out. “Uh… thank you, Agent Gulliver.” The bangboo saluted as you took it and walked off. 

Harumasa blinked a couple times. “He… He won’t tell anyone, right? Bangboo’s don’t gossip, do they?” You sighed, straightening up his tie before pushing him a bit off of you. “I’ll go pull his memory card. It’s standard for my reports. I’ll just… crop the video.” “Yeah thanks.” Harumasa scratched the back of his head. “We’ve got to be more careful.”

— Close Call #3 —

— Secret is Out —

You had told Harumasa not to push himself too hard, and what does he do? Run head first into battle without calling for backup, of course. He had it handled, but he was paying the consequences today, and of course you were sweet enough to give him company while he was holed up, miserable in his apartment. You swiped through the files on the tablet, a sleeping Harumasa laying in the bed next to you, his arm draped over your lap, holding you securely even in his sleep. An alarm buzzed and without looking up from the tablet, you shook Harumasa awake.

“Huh?” The tired man sat up, wiping the drool off of the corner of his mouth, smiling a bit when he saw you were in his bed.

“Second dose of medicine.” You replied without looking up, handing him one of the bottles. He opened it and placed one of the pills in his mouth, reaching across you to take your water and taking a couple big gulps. “Rude.” You scoff, finally looking up from your tablet.

He placed the cup back on the nightstand before grabbing the tablet, taking it from you and also placing it on the nightstand. “Your poor, sick boyfriend is suffering cold and alone in bed and you’re more focused on work?” He pouts as he pulls you to lay down with him, rather than sitting up.

“You’re only sick because you knowingly pushed your limits!” Your words had no real bite as you did, in fact, lay down with him.

“Your words wound me.” Harumasa cuddles close to you, his wheezing breath right next to your ear, but you didn’t mind, especially with the way one of his hands played with the hair at the base of your neck. “You know you don’t have to be here, right?” You let out a noise, not wanting to repeat this conversation yet again. “I love you, I want to be here, I’m not going anywhere.” You list quickly, and Harumasa didn't argue back, kissing your forehead. “I love you, too.” He whispered softly, his voice slightly hoarse. “And I love that you’re here.” The tender moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Oooh that’s probably our takeout.” You reluctantly get up out of his bed with a promise that you’d be right back. You opened the door holding the tip money, only to come face to face with quite possibly the worst person to see right now. “Yanagi?” You were going to ask something else, but your brain chugged when faced with this rather awkward situation.

“(y/n)?” Yanagi was honestly just as confused. “I didn’t know you and Harumasa were close.” Your silence was bordering on suspicious when you let out a polite, professional chuckle, very thankful you hadn’t changed into your pajamas yet and could still kind of pass this off as work. “I work very closely with Harumasa for my reports. A lot of the hollow data can be weird to work out so I often talk to him since he’s a really good scout. I just stopped by to grab some paperwork for him and I ended up helping him with a few things since he’s not feeling well today.” You lie through your teeth, but luckily Yanagi didn’t really seem to question it… or if she did she certainly didn’t let it be known.

“Ah, well I just wanted to drop off another set of folders for him to review. Soukaku tried to do his paperwork for him and I tried to read his handwriting through the scribbles and I wanted to double check it was accurate before I handed it in to you.” Yanagi offered politely.  

Harumasa, who you didn’t realize got out of bed, stood next to you, looking between you and Yanagi. He was tired, in pain, and frankly tired of hiding this relationship. It was his idea originally to keep the fans at bay, keep him out of hot water with the press, and make sure there wasn’t anything to report to HR, but seeing you try to cover up comforting your sick boyfriend with work? Absolutely not. He wrapped his arms around you from behind before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, your body freezing as Harumasa looked at Yanagi from his hiding spot in your neck.

“Sorry, I’m off today!” He closed the door before dragging you back to bed with him.

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

psssst I do, in fact, take requests. Okay thank you for reading <3

[halsteadlover]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬?

*Gifs not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Hotch have occasional rendezvous but each time you promise it’ll be the last even if neither of you seems to be able to stop.

• Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them you guys wrap it if you want to use it!!!), cursing, dirty talk, oral sex m. receiving, basically porn with no plot lol

• Word count: 1824.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY. I hope you like this, let me know what you think. Comment, reblog and like if you want and as always thank you so much for your support.

“Oh fuck Hotch you feel so good…-” you moaned loudly as you kept riding him on his chair. Your shaking thighs burned, your aching knees pressing against on his chair as his dick thrusted deeper and deeper inside you.

His hands were gripping your hips as he accompanied your movements, grunting and trying to remain silent while his fingers pressed against your skin so hard they left marks on it.

He let go of your hip and covered your mouth when another groan escaped your lips, making your moans become just muffled sighs. “Shut up, you don't want them to hear us do you?”.

You shook your head, biting into his palm as you placed your hands on the arms of his chair for support while letting yourself get rocked by the immense pleasure he was giving you.

It was a mistake.

You knew it was.

But God what a beautiful mistake.

You couldn't help it.

Since the day you and Hotch ended up in bed one night after a case and a few drinks, you didn’t stop having these rendezvous, neither of you could help it. Every time you promised yourselves it’d be the last, but it was enough to find yourselves close, or your eyes to meet during the discussion of a case, or for some reason his hand to casually caress yours to break this promise.

You were just like a drug for each other. From that first dose you had that night, you could no longer go without that feeling of euphoria and pure ecstasy the sex gave you.

Aaron Hotchner was the most sinful thought that crossed your mind, the forbidden thing you always craved and God did you love it.

Maybe it was the fact you were a BAU agent and he was your boss, maybe it was the thrill of being discovered, maybe it was the taste of the forbidden – hell, what would the FBI have said if they knew the upright boss of the behavioral analysis unit was breaking the rules that he himself continually reiterated to his agents?

This, however, didn't stop either of you, indeed it was as if all this was fuel thrown on the fire, passion and desire you already felt.

At first you both managed to keep that passion at bay, having occasional sex in hotel rooms when you were out of town for a case. But the more time passed, the more difficult it became to suppress everything, to hide that you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off every minute of the day.

And that's why you found yourself in his office that evening, fucking near his desk while there were still some colleagues still in the bullpen.

“God I've been thinking about you and this damn skirt all day… Fuck… You’re irresistible,” he muttered, his eyes scanning your figure sitting on him as his dick fucked your wet pussy.

He was completely mesmerized.

Your skirt was rolled up around your hips, the sheer black stockings you were wearing until recently had been ripped by Hotch in the heat of passion, your panties were thrown to the floor, your shirt unbuttoned and your bra moved as your breasts popped out and bounced to the rhythm of your motion.

You looked like a fucking goddess.

The walls of your pussy started to clench around his dick, making him twitch inside you, your hips stuttering as you felt your orgasm building more and more. It was as if your body was going through convulsions and you couldn't control it, you just wanted and desired that intense pleasure that only Aaron Hotchner was able to give you.

He wrapped his lips around your breast, sucking and licking your nipple as you threaded your hands into his hair and pulled it. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep at bay the moans and gasps you was struggling to keep quiet.

“Just like that, oh yeah just like that you feel so good Hotch,” you whispered in a gasp, rolling your eyes and head back. His tongue licked your skin, from your breasts, then moving up your collarbone to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin until he left a mark.

Hotchner wasn't one for hickeys, he wasn't one for office sex in the workplace, he wasn't one for quickies, he wasn't one to break the rules that he himself had set but you managed to break down every single part of his barrier, you managed making him lose control in a way that he loved and hated at the same time, you managed to unleash emotions in him that he had never even felt in his life.

You were hurricane.

You were storm.

You were addiction.

And he couldn't get enough of you, never.

“Shit, fuck,” he cursed, biting and licking the skin of your shoulder as his thumb began drawing imaginary circles on your clit making your muscles tense even more and your movements more erratic. You almost had a heart attack from the intense pleasure that flowed through your veins. “God princess you ruin me.”

A breathtaking orgasm hit over you without any other warning like a raging river, making you dizzy and see stars. Your vision went blurry for a few moments, making you even forget you were in your boss' office and someone could actually hear you.

You tried to catch your breath but at that very moment there was a knock on the door, making both you and Hotch freeze in place, his hard dick still inside you. You exchanged a panicked look.

“Just one second.” Aaron had responded after clearing his throat and then continuing talking to you in a whisper, “Get under the desk.”

You nodded and lifted yourself off his legs, which had turned to jelly as you bent down and picked up your panties. You settled under the desk between his legs while he quickly tried to fix his hair and button up his shirt. He stood up and put on his pants, leaving them loose without bringing them up to his hips.

“Come in.”

Your heart was beating so wildly you could hear the pounding in your ears. You stayed paralyzed under the desk, too afraid to even breathe.

The door opened and you recognized Agent Anderson's voice. “I brought the Porters' case report from five days ago Agent Hotchner.”

He nodded, his expression completely serious and professional as he pretended to fill out a file he didn't even remember at the moment.

“Thank you Agent Anderson, leave it on my desk.”

Despite the fear of being discovered, however, you couldn't contain your excitement and the thought of driving him crazy couldn't leave your mind. You placed a hand on his inner thigh, trailing your fingers along his crotch with sensuality.

Aaron almost had a heart attack when you quietly pulled his underwear off enough for his dick to pop out again, still wet and damp from your fluids and you wrapped your hand around it, starting to jerk him off with slow, controlled pace.

“Agent Hotchner there was a thing about this case I wanted to ask you about…” Agent Anderson had asked.

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

Hotch nodded and pointed to the chair in front of his desk, his lips pressed together because he was afraid if he opened them only moans would come out.

Your hand increased its speed and Hotch let out a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair, about to have a heart attack right then and now.

He looked at Anderson, he heard him talking but his brain couldn't process a single word he was saying, too focused on trying to keep a serious expression and not let on that there was a woman under his desk who was masturbating him.

But the final blow came when you wrapped your lips around his dick, taking it all in your mouth and tasting yourself on it. He let out a small moan which immediately covered with a cough, thanking god Anderson was too caught up in whatever he was saying to notice.

His hand reached below the desk and into your hair, pulling it harshly and making you almost moan at the sensation. This caused you to pick up your pace and Hotch didn't know whether to hate you or not at that moment.

He wanted you to stop.

But also for you to keep going because that fucking mouth of yours was pure ecstasy.

“Are you okay, agent Hotchner?” Anderson stopped at a certain point, noticing the way Hotchner continued to move in his chair and the blush on his cheeks.

“Y-yes, I apologize...” Hotch breathed out. “Lord,” he almost let out a groan which he tried to mask with another cough. “I’m not feeling very well these days. C-can…” he stopped again, swallowing another moan. “We’ll talk about t-this tomorrow Anderson. Excuse me.”

You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, feeling victorious for making the always-so-serious SSA Aaron Hotchner a complete mess.

His thighs started to shake, his fingers still pulling your hair as you licked his dick, leaving a long string of saliva on his tip. You wrapped your lips around him again and a hand around the base, jerking him off while simultaneously taking it in your mouth. Your other hand rested on his thigh, pressing your nails on his hot skin.

Your mouth felt like heaven and it didn't take long for the orgasm to start building again after it was interrupted.

“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry. Get well soon then, g-good night agent Hotchner.” Anderson replied and jumped to his feet before mumbling some more nonsense and exiting the office, closing the door behind him.

Hotch let out a particularly deep sigh and rested his head on the edge of his chair as he continued to mercilessly fuck your mouth.

“You fucking little slut, you really can't help yourself huh?” He groaned, looking back at you. His grip around your hair tightened, forcing your head down and making you gag. “My needy little whore, look at you chocking on my dick… Fuck you’re gonna make me come.”

How could he make such derogatory names so damn sexy?

It didn't take long for Hotch to explode into an intense orgasm inside your mouth, not letting your head go until he watched you swallow every single damn drop of his cum.

He exhaustedly leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for his breathing to calm down.

He took your hands and helped you out from under the desk, letting you sit on his lap and kissing you until taking your breath.

He gave you a sweet little kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheek with a thumb, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “You'll be the death of me sooner or later, agent Y/Ln.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria

Aaron Hotchner tag list: @mrs-ssa-hotch, @s1lverhand, @novabckly, @thatcrimeshowchick

Click here to be added to the tag list ❤️

Main Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

Ask link 💭

[raekensluver]

rekindled bonds (introduction)

introduction, part one, part two,

description: reuniting with your old childhood best friend, spencer reid, in the most unlikely of places, the fbi's behavioral analysis unit.

pairing: spencer reid x bau agent!fem!reader

contains: fluff!!, spencer and r reuniting after a decade, childhood best friends to lovers trope.

song rec: pretty boy by the nbhd- "pretty boy, you did this with me, boy."

w.c: 870+

an: if you want to be added to the taglist for this series lmk! i'm planning for this to have at least three parts !!! also i haven't watched criminal minds in forever so, i definitely think i messed up on what agents are on the team in this era....(my bau team is prentiss, morgan, rossi, jj, reid and garcia)

"you know, i never expected to end up here," you murmured to yourself, glancing around the bustling office space filled with a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. the hum of conversation and the tap of keyboards created a comforting rhythm that was almost soothing. the walls, lined with case files and maps, whispered tales of a world you had only ever read about.

"you'll fit in just fine," a voice said from behind you, and you turned to find emily prentiss, her eyes gleaming with a knowing smile. "this place has a way of growing on you." she began to lead you through the maze of desks, each one a miniature universe of clutter and chaos, until you reached one that was shockingly neat. "this is where you'll be working."

as you took in the organized space, she continued, "i'm emily prentiss, unit chief. i've heard a lot about you." her hand extended in a firm, confident gesture. "it's an honor to finally meet you."

you took her hand with a warm smile, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. "likewise," you said, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head. "i've followed your work closely. i'm thrilled to be joining the team."

emily's smile grew as she gave a nod of approval. "i have no doubt you'll be an excellent addition to the team." she turned and began to lead you through the office, her heels clicking against the tiles with a confidence that seemed to resonate through the room. as you walked, you couldn't help but feel like you were stepping into a dream - a world of law enforcement and psychological profiling that you had only ever watched unfold on television screens.

each desk you passed had its own story to tell, with case files piled high and personal mementos scattered among the paperwork. "this is where the magic happens," emily said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "every member of our team brings something unique to the table, and together, we solve the unsolvable."

as you followed her, you noticed a man in the corner, his eyes glued to a computer screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. something about him was eerily familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. his hair was shaggier than you remembered, and he'd filled out a bit, but the intense focus was unmistakable.

"spencer," emily called out, and the man's head snapped up, his eyes darting around the room before landing on you. "i want you to meet our newest member."

you felt your heart skip a beat as the realization dawned on you. it was him - the boy from your past, now a man with a sharp intellect and a reputation that preceded him. "reid," you murmured, a mix of disbelief and excitement coloring your voice.

spencer reid looked up from his computer, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before recognition lit up his eyes. "you," he said, his voice a perfect blend of surprise and delight. he pushed back his chair and stood, a warm smile spreading across his face. "i can't believe it's you."

you couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "small world, huh?" you stepped closer, feeling a mix of nostalgia and nerves as he closed the distance between you.

"indeed," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "i never thought i'd see you again, especially not here."

you chuckled, feeling the weight of the years that had passed between you. "life has a funny way of working out, doesn't it?"

spencer nodded, his smile never wavering. "it certainly does. how have you been?"

you felt a flush rise to your cheeks, not quite knowing where to begin. "i've been… good," you managed, trying to keep your cool. "i studied psychology in college, like i always talked about. it's what brought me here."

his eyes searched yours, and you could see the curiosity in them. "i've missed you," he said, his voice sincere. "you were always the one who could keep up with me."

you blinked, surprised by his candidness. "you too," you admitted. "i always wondered what happened to the kid who read encyclopedias for fun."

just as the conversation was starting to flow, emily cleared her throat, her eyebrows arched in curiosity. "you two know each other?" she asked, looking back and forth between you.

you nodded, unable to wipe the smile from your face. "we're old friends," you said, still slightly in shock. "we grew up together."

emily's eyes widened. "really?" she looked intrigued. "i had no idea."

"yes," spencer said, his smile growing wider. "we were practically inseparable until i left for college. she was the one who could actually understand what i was talking about when i went on one of my…rambles."

emily chuckled. "well, that's a rare skill around here. we could all use a little more of that." she turned to you. "i'd love to hear more about your history with reid, but we're on a tight schedule. we have a case briefing in ten minutes."

you nodded, feeling the excitement of the moment give way to the reality of your new job. "of course," you said, trying to compose yourself. "i'm ready."

edited 8.20.24

[ahhnini]

the star - frat!rafe cameron x tarotcard!reader! reader

“know that you’re supported, even when support isn’t always that obvious to you”

warnings - not proofread!

not obx4 bringing me out of my writing slump omg…also this is very self indulgent LMAOO much love to @nemesyaaa for this idea!!

“dude, c’mon!” topper drags rafe down the street, your dimly lit shop lights coming into his view. “nah, I don’t mess with that kind of stuff,” rafe says, shaking his head. “just go in there, ask one question, and then we’ll get out. don’t want me to tell the bros that you’re flaking on this dare,” topper smirked. rafe scoffs, rolling his eyes before he enters your shop, his nose filling with the scent of incense.

“hello?” your voice called out, seeing a tall man slowly make his way towards you. you softly smile, inviting him to sit. you notice his hesitatation, slender fingers gliding over the chair across you.

he gingerly sits down, taking a good look at your face. you giggle, “not what you were expecting, huh?” his eyes glance down at your name badge, reading it out, and his eyebrows furrow together, “you’re in my accounting class, right?” his voice trebles through the quiet building. you nod, “and…you’re rafe?” he hums, crossing his arms. he clears his throat before speaking up again, “I don’t really believe in this stuff, this was actually a dare…hope…you don’t take offense to that in some way.” you give him another polite smile before you shuffle your deck, “it’s okay, I don’t take offense, don’t worry, you are completely entitled to your own beliefs as I am to mine,” you reassure him.

“so…do you have a question you wanted to ask me or do you just want to talk about our accounting homework that’s due tomorrow for an hour straight? I saw your friend waiting outside the window,” you quickly point to topper fidgeting on his phone on the steps outside of your building.

“um—yeah I guess I do have a question,” he hesitates before speaking, “what advice can you give me right now?” his blue eyes sparkle at you, taking you aback for a moment. you nod before you continue shuffling, asking the question out loud and pulling three cards.

you hum, analyzing each of the messages and imagery of the cards. “well—rafe. it may seem you’ve been having trouble with some family and friends lately, you may have been feeling some resentment towards them, not feeling as if you’re being seen. but they do see you, and they’re here to support you, so don’t be afraid to ask for advice; they’re always willing to give it”

his eyes widen, “how—how did you—” he stumbles over his words, “it’s basically a mix of analysis and creativity. you analyze what the cards say and sort of make a story from it!” you beam, “but it’s also a trust of gut, do you see this?” you point at a card in the middle of your pull, the star. this is what stood out to me in your reading rafe; it’s what gave me your advice.” he nods slowly, before softly speaking up again, “um, can I tell you more?” “you have another question? sure—”

“no, not like that,” he grabs your hands from across the table, preventing you from shuffling your deck, “oh, okay,” you put your deck in your box, putting out the candle on your table, “let’s sit on the couch, okay?” he nods, pulling out his phone to text topper to go home.

once you see topper leave, you flip your front door sign to closed, shut your blinds, close your curtains, and turn off most of your lights, except the ones that hung over your cozy couch.

as the night went on, rafe told you about his recent struggles, you listening to every single word, providing him advice not as a tarot card reader, but as a friend.

the next morning, you woke rafe up from your couch, freaking out about your now overdue accounting assignment.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[carisc4pshaw]

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Rescued from a Paper

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you are frustrated and overwhelmed with your paper, your boyfriend comes over (almost as if his spidey senses were attuned to you). At first, jokingly, Peter offers to do it for you (he’s brilliant, and he’d actually do it for you). But all jokes aside, he rubs your head and gently coaxes you to take a break from your computer. Although you resist, he ultimately wins.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, mild language, talks of stress due to assignments, suggestive flirting, and awful but cute chemistry puns

Note: I had the worst time writing a 30-page paper for this semester. My brain is a bit fried at the moment and I tried to edit this as best as possible. So, to everyone finishing up projects, presentations, and papers before the holiday break, this is for you (everyone really) :)

Navigation

The blinking cursor on the screen taunts you, its rhythmic pulse mocking your every attempt to continue writing. You curse under your breath, your frustration at its peak. You’ve been sitting at your desk for hours now; the only time you left your room was for coffee. Your eyes are red from staring at research articles to support your hypothesis. Typing sentences of analysis for your cited evidence and deleting them just as quickly as they came. 

But no matter what you do, the words don’t come. 

Your deadline is a week away. 

A week? Manageable. 

But coupled with studying for finals and a part-time job? Agonizing.

You sigh, wanting nothing more but to tell your professor to eat shit. But you couldn't. Well, you could, but that probably wouldn't go over very nicely.

Despite all your best efforts, the mountain of work before you feels overwhelming. You've got about 10,000 more words to write, then you have to circle back and do the abstract. 

You glance outside your window, greeted with darkness. You lean back in your chair, letting your shoulders slump, wishing for some kind of relief.

“This is hopeless.” You mutter, throwing your crumpled notes in the trash. 

You fought the urge to cry or commit a crime. Either one would work at this point. Or both.

"Hey, pretty girl," a familiar voice called out, and your body instantly relaxed. "It’s your handsome, handsome boyfriend. Your mom said I could come up."

You rolled your eyes at the sound of Peter’s voice and walked toward the door with a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

Dressed in comfortable sweats, his brown hair a fluffy mess, his cheeks flushed a bit from the cold, and his glasses slightly crooked on his nose. 

"Hi, Pete," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart was already racing. "You’re looking extra nerdy tonight."

“Well, thanks.” Peter smiled, his eyes lazily scanning over you. “I thought it was perfect for spending the night with my amazing, smart, undoubtedly beautiful and stressed-out girlfriend.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “If you keep talking about how amazing I am, I’ll have to give you an A+,” you teased.

“Now I really have to live up to my perfect boyfriend status.” Peter winked, stepping into your room, his eyes quickly scanning the pile of textbooks and papers strewn across your desk. “Still stuck on that paper, huh?”

"Yeah, it sucks the life out of me," you muttered, running a hand roughly through your hair, “I’ve been stuck on the same paragraph for the last hour.”

You sit back down at your desk again, glaring at your computer as if it has insulted your entire bloodline. But Peter bought it for you and added the stickers himself. It was perfect. Just like your Peter. While your professor was like a spawn from the depths of hell, who added 5 pages to the requirements the week before it was due.

Peter chuckled, the sound of his voice like a soothing balm to your weary mind. "I see. Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure you could write a paper on the properties of your stressed brain and still get an A." He walked up to your desk, giving you a cocky little grin. “I mean, I could totally do it for you, y’know. I’m pretty good with words, my fingers, my tongue and my ability to ramble on endlessly about, well, everything?”

You blush and roll your eyes, amused despite yourself. "Really? You think you could just write it for me?"

Peter shrugged, leaning against your desk, the cocky grin still on his face. “Oh, absolutely. I could take this whole thing and turn it into a masterpiece. I’m Peter Parker after all, baby. You could just sit back and relax, while I do all the heavy lifting, which is easy for the guy with certain cool abilites. You could even, y'know, take a break,” he added.

You laughed, but it was more of a tired chuckle than anything truly amused. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, trying to focus on your laptop again. “You don’t even know the topic, Pete.”

“True.” He pretended to think about it for a second. “But it could be something about molecules or atoms?” He gave you a sly smile. “I mean, I’m practically a walking periodic table. And if chemists do it on the table periodically, we can too.”

Your cheeks flushed at his implication. “You’re such a dog.”

Peter grinned, a little glint in his eye as he took a step closer. "Well, if you are about to combust, let’s just say I’m the perfect solution. After all, I’m all about bonding chemistry, especially with you," he said, winking.

You snorted, despite your frustration, your cheeks flushing from both the playful flirtation and the weight of the work still looming over you. "Stop it," you said, unable to keep the smile off your face. “You’re so corny.”

Peter leaned closer, his hand brushing your hair back from your face, and his smile softened. “I can’t help it. You bring out the best in me,” he said, before adding, “and the worst, apparently.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, there was no hiding the grin that tugged at your lips. "You’re gonna distract me with your terrible puns. But I’m behind. If I stop now, I won’t get it done.” 

Peter’s smile faded into something softer as he gently rubbed your head, his hand moving in slow circles on your scalp. 

You fold faster than a lawn chair for this man as your eyes close, a protest dying on your lips.

“I get it, sweet girl. I do. But you’ve been working that pretty little ass off for hours, and you’re only going to make yourself more frustrated if you keep going like this. I’m not saying you can’t finish it because that would be a lie. I am never not in awe of you. But just take a break.” He paused, watching you with those warm, brown eyes. “Let me help you relax for just a little bit. Then, you’ll have the energy to kill this paper.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your resistance was weakening. “I don’t need a break.”

Peter’s hand moved to your shoulder, his warm fingers easing the knots with praticed ease. He knew every spot to hit to make you melt. “A quick break will help you, baby.” You were all but purring.

You hesitated for a moment, but when your eyes locked with Peter’s warm, brown eyes, you were a goner.

“Okay, Pete,” you mumbled, giving in. “Fine. I’ll take a break. But only for a little bit.”

Peter grinned, victorious, and without hesitation, dragging you to your bed. “I knew you’d see things my way, baby,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get you properly relaxed. In more ways than one.”

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you sighed in relifef. You looked up at Peter, who was taking off his jacket, revealing the softest sweater. You needed him. 

Peter crawled up beside you, grinning down at you like a prey in his trap. “I promise, I won’t let you do any more work until you’re feeling like yourself again. Then, we can tackle that paper together. Not a moment sooner.”

You laughed. "Yeah, right," you teased, rolling your eyes. “Sure, and then we’ll write a paper about quantum physics and why it’s best enjoyed with cookies.”

“Ah!” Peter gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Quantum physics and cookies? Now that’s a bond I can get behind. Who needs regular chemistry when we’ve got this kind of reaction?”

You snorted, your frustration finally melting away with Peter's playful jokes and gentle teasing. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and then finally, your lips.

“See?” he whispered against your lips. “Much better.”

Then, without warning, he starts peppering you with soft, quick kisses all over your face, making you laugh despite yourself.

“Peter!” you exclaim, trying to push him away, but his hands hold you gently in place, the kisses relentless and warm.

He pulls back just long enough to look at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “You need to smile more, you know? Seeing my girl happy always makes me happy.”

A warmth spreads through your chest. And just like that you are reminded that you are the luckiest girl ever.

Peter’s grin widens at your smile, and he leans in again, this time planting a soft, sweet kiss on your lips. You melt as his tongue slips into your mouth.

And for the first time all night, you feel light. Peter Parker was your solace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling away just slightly. “And neither is your paper. So how about we just focus on this for a while? Just you and me.”

Peter rubs your back as you relax into him, your world shifting from stress to calm in the span of a few minutes. His voice is soft as he whispers jokingly, “Just relax for me, okay? Let me be your hero.”

“You always are.” You smile and pull him closer, letting the weight of the paper slip away for a little while longer.

Thank you so much for reading. My professor did, in fact, add five pages to the requirements for the paper a week before it was due, so this was totally self-indulgent.

But I hope you enjoyed this :)

Much love x

- Maeve

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | prologue

Summary: The first encounter.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: 18 in this part)

Word Count: 837

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Tips

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh, hello Dr. Barnes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

The university loomed before you, the ivy-clad walls and gothic spires stood as testaments to the centuries of academic excellence. Renowned for its rigorous standards, the prestigious institution drew in the brightest minds from across the globe. You stepped through the grand archway, the air humming with the energy of countless scholarly pursuits, each echoing through the hallowed halls. 

You haven’t long turned 18, now a freshman, driven by a passion for creative writing. Your nights were spent hunched over notebooks, pouring your heart into stories and poems. Determined to make the most of this opportunity, you reflected on your talent that earned you a place here. With the best and brightest. It was a new chapter of your academic journey, and it started today.

Dr. James B. Barnes is a brilliant literature professor yet, reserved. His reputation preceded him– known for his profound insights and standards, he was feared and revered by his students. As you approached his office, your heart began to race. 

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, stood a heavy oak door with a brass nameplate glinting in the dim light. You took a deep breath and knocked firmly. Creaking open the door, you revealed Dr. Barnes. Sat behind a cluttered desk, his gaze lifted from a pile of papers, meeting yours. Piercing yet thoughtful, there was a moment of silent assessment. 

You felt the weight of his scrutiny as you stepped inside. The room smelled of leather with a faint trace of whiskey. 

“Good afternoon,” you begin, trying to steady your voice despite the nerves. “I’m going to be joining your advanced English literature class.” 

“Ah, yes,” he responded, his tone measured. “You must be the freshman. Please, have a seat.” 

You took a seat in the heavy leather chair opposite his desk. The two of you exchange a few professional courtesies, keeping the conversation brief but charged with mutual respect. You could sense that he had recognized your passion, and you were determined to prove yourself. 

~

A week later, you found yourself attending his class, surrounded by fellow students. His presence was commanding as he stood at the front of the room. A masterful blend of critical analysis and profound insight, his lectures were delivered with authority. 

Your hand raised after a particularly challenging lecture, Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a nod.

“Yes?” 

“I have to disagree with your interpretation of his work,” you say, your voice clear and confident. A stark contrast from your first meeting with him. “I believe his use of fragmented narrative serves as a challenge to the notion of a singular, authoritative voice, rather than to obscure meaning.” 

The room fell silent, all eyes turned to you. Dr. Barnes regards you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. 

“Interesting perspective,” he replied, keeping his tone cool. “However, I would argue that the fragmentation serves more to reflect the chaotic nature of postmodern existence.” 

You don’t back down. “Isn’t that chaos a direct challenge to traditional narrative structures? He seems to be inviting readers to find their own meaning within the disarray.” 

Your heated debate ensues, intellectual electricity cranking the air. Your classmates watched, their gazes swapping between you and Dr. Barnes like they were at Wimbledon as you exchanged arguments. 

Initially, he was annoyed by your boldness, yet you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. You thrived on pushing boundaries and testing limits, in particular, with those you found intellectually stimulating and authoritative. Leaving everyone, including Dr. James B. Barnes, captivated.

“Your argument is well-crafted,” he concedes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I look forward to more discussions like this.” 

As the weeks passed, Dr. Barnes’ class quickly became the highlight of your week. A battlefield of ideas in each session, a place where you could push your intellectual prowess. Dr. Barnes, though initially reserved, seemed to relish the debates as much as you did. 

One chilly autumn afternoon, you lingered after another stimulating class as the other students left. The room fell quiet, as though itself was in thought and reflection. Dr. Barnes noticed and approached you.

“Good work today,” he said, his tone less sharper than usual. “You’ve brought a new energy to these discussions.” 

“Thank you,” you smile, a rush of pride coursed through you. “Your classes challenge me in ways I never expected.” 

He nodded, “To challenge and to inspire, that’s the point of academia. Keep questioning, you could go far.” 

You smiled again, your cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m glad you’re not tired of my questions yet.” 

“On the contrary,” he said as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that caused your heart to race. “I find them… refreshing.” 

The flicker of something unspoken passed between you, a deeper connection yet to be explored. His words echoed as you left the lecture hall, the promise in his eyes lingered. 

What were the boundaries between student and teacher? And, could they transform into something more profound? 

- - -

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[rini-rushed]

hostility vs. hospitality.

☆ sae x gn! reader sfw

★ i’m so fucking irritated for NO REASON. so im writing this on my phone to cope (that’s why it’s not in my usual format and probably not as well written as my other works)

it’s impossible to not notice your attitude.

sae has been silently observing you for a few hours now, ever since you’ve gotten home from your classes, you’ve been drowning in this gloomy energy.

your eyebrows aren’t furrowed, but they r sure as hell aren’t relaxed, you’re leg bumps around with more ferocity when you sit in a chair, eating your dinner with a sulking expression.

thumping your feet against the floor a bit louder as you traversed throughout the shared space. you held that look in your eyes, your stare that would bulldoze through walls if you wanted to.

you even watched a movie, on a monday night no less, and yet, you were acting so incredibly pissy.

his usual little bubbles of speech would be slapped and snapped back with sarcasm and cynicism.

“fuck off.”

“who cares about that?”

“no one wants to hear about that.”

your negativity was a poison, and you were lathering the sick liquid everywhere with each step and touch you took.

“i’m fucking fine.”

it was at this point 10pm, you were all ready for bed, yet you kept bouncing between rooms, blasting different music on your computer, phone, headphones, earbuds.

pop, rock, classical, nostalgic, trendy, electronic. everything.

thank god your computer is off and charging, sae couldn’t stand more of your musical stupidity.

it was when you’re laying on the couch with this moody expression plastered on your face, that sae finally confronts you with your shitty attitude.

because mind you, you guys lived in the same space, and this fucking attitude of yours started out as annoying to flat out disrespectful.

he took a step near you, seeing your half angry half tired expression, he doesn’t even sigh out loud as he approaches and sits on the couch as well.

“what the fuck is up with you today.”

unlike his passive words before this, in classic itoshi style, sae slams down his metaphorical hand onto the table, now the ball is in your court.

“nothing.”

“do you think i’m some sort of idiot? like you?”

you visibly snapped at that.

“what the fuck is your problem? i’m trying to mind my own fucking business, why don’t you do the same?”

“oh cut that crap out, you’re obviously in a pissy mood, tell me why so you can get the hell over it.” he snaps back, now with the same energy as you.

you let a pause catch your throat, and you look down at the surface of the couch, the soft cushion your body is on top of.

���i don’t know.”

when he doesn’t reply, you half roll your eyes.

“there, happy?” you seethed.

that venom was back, spilling from your breath, and darting to poison the male in front of you.

you don’t bother to look at his face, you will save your dignity thank you very much.

sae this time let’s out an audible sigh and raised his hands, doing something you never expected from a guy like him.

a hand pats itself onto the crown of your head, for a second it doesn’t move, nothing does, the air and atmosphere seemed still, you were too scared(?) to break it.

his hand then circles around your head, softly running his hands through your hair, his slightly cool hands leave a trail of comfort in it’s tracks.

eventually, he pulls you in, the motion left you in a position where he was like.. hugging your head, if that makes sense.

you don’t look up at him, your pride pushing your vision to the corner, but sae wasn’t pushing you to look at him.

with more analysis of your actions and this, it’s obvious that asking you to look at him would be a waste, it would only plunge you into this strange sensation more.

you only closed your eyes and leaned into the feeling, the continuous stroking of your scalp, the soft finger pads ghosting over your hairline from time to time.

the eventual shifting of his legs and your body leaves you in a comforting state, positioning to bring you to a place of solace.

that night you slept particularly well.

i guess.

genuine emotion trash i want to rip off my skin and blast a song but no song sounds right

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

alexa play fighter by jack stauber

[tokkiwrites]

in which spencer doesn't appreciate how close you've gotten to Derek Morgan, and even though you guys aren't official, he wants to make it clear who you belong to.

TW: dom!Spencer reid, sub! reader, use of y/n, afab reader, jealous spencer, voyeurism, degradation (kind of), pet names, unprotected p in v (wrap b4 you clap), kind of mean spence idk let me know if i missed anything.

y/n sat at her desk, surrounded by the dimly lit office. The soft hum of computers and the distant chatter of agents filled the air as she diligently worked on her reports. It was another late night at the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and exhaustion tugged at the edges of her focus.

Across the room, she noticed Derek hunched over his desk, his intense gaze fixed on a case file. y/n couldn't help but admire Morgan's dedication and experience, and she often sought his guidance when faced with challenging cases. Tonight was no different as she considered approaching him for advice.

As she contemplated her next move, Dr. Spencer Reid entered the room. Reid had always been a bit enigmatic, his towering intellect often overshadowing his social awkwardness. y/n thinks that's what makes her like him in the first place.

y/n continued to focus on her work, unaware of the way Spencer's eyes bathed in her. She reviewed the case files, her brow furrowing as she delved deeper into the unsettling details of the ongoing investigation. It was a particularly puzzling case, and she knew she needed some fresh insights.

Derek, sensing her contemplation, looked up from his own work and caught y/n's eye. With a friendly smile, he nodded toward her and gestured for her to come over.

"y/n" Derek called out, his voice carrying across the room. "Got a minute?"

y/n nodded in response, grateful for the opportunity to consult with someone as experienced as Morgan. She rose from her desk and walked over to join him, her curiosity piqued.

"What do you have, Derek?" she asked, her tone earnest and professional.

As they huddled over the case file, discussing theories and potential leads, Spencer observed them from a distance, his feelings of inadequacy and jealousy intensifying by the second. He couldn't help but wonder if he was losing y/n's s attention to Derekㅡ not that he cared. It was just... curiosity.

As y/n and Derek delved into the intricacies of the case,Reid remained seated at his desk, his gaze fixed on the computer screen, though his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the growing unease that had settled in his chest as he watched them collaborate.

The office felt tense, and Spencer's inner turmoil was only magnified by the fact that he struggled to vocalize his feelings. He'd always been more comfortable with statistics and facts than navigating the complexities of interpersonal relationships. But as he watched y/n and Derek work closely together, he realized he couldn't stay silent any longer.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer finally decided to join the conversation. He gathered his thoughts and approached them, trying to suppress the wave of jealousy that still simmered beneath the surface.

"Actually," he began, his voice betraying a hint of hesitancy, "I've been looking at this from a different angle. What if we consider the geographic distribution of the incidents? It might reveal a pattern that we've missed."

"huh." Derek furrowed his brows and then looked down at the file again."makin' me question what i know again, pretty boy." all three laugh in unison before Derek decides to sit up from his chair. "I'll head out for some food, don't get to ahead without me, yeah?"

perfect.

did he do all this just to have a reason to sit next to y/n? maybe. did he memorize Morgan's exact schedule so he knew when to come into the office and "make him question what he knows." ? totally.

His intentions were clear, even if his actions were a bit unconventional.

"you know... it's been a while since you last talked to me, y/n. care to explain?" y/n glanced away for a moment, her fingers idly tapping on her desk. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding the topic.

"oh, umㅡ just busy, spence. work...all that." she replied with a soft smile, her gaze returning to meet his. there she goes with that smile that somehow awakes something in Spencer he never knew existed. Her smile had always been disarmingly genuine, and it tugged at Spencer's heartstrings. He couldn't help but feel a sense of longing as he stared into her eyes.

"If you wanted to talk... you know how phones work, right?" she teased, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder. Spencer felt his heart skip a beat at her touch, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. truth was, he was waiting for the right time to have his way with herㅡ get close, hold her... leave no room for air, only fill her pretty head with thoughts of himself.

As he inched closer, he placed a gentle hand on her arm, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "I've been waiting for the right time," he admitted softly, "but I can't wait any longer."

"s-spenceㅡ"

Their faces were now mere inches apart, the air thick with tension. Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, breath tickling at her skin.

"do you know how hardㅡ how long I've had to pretend I'm ok with you talking to Derek that way? do you know how long I've thought about you? godㅡ its like you're etched into my psyche."

"w-what way, spence, i dontㅡ"

his fingers dig at her exposed thigh, causing y/n to squint her eyes at the sudden jolt of pain that ran through her. "I'm speaking now." his voice deep, like a thousand daggers to her heart, they sent her head into a frenzy.

She didn't know why, let alone how this situation was managing to make her squirm into her seat as trickles dirtied her underwear.

"stop trying to act dumb right now, y/n." he trails off, fingers slowly slipping under her y/n's skirt "need to show you who's you are." he paused "need to fuck you dumb right now."

"s-spencer, what if Derek returns andㅡ"

"good. maybe if he sees how deep you can take my cock he'll stop trying to get into your pants."

jesus. she barely heard him talk this way in all of her time here at the BAU. but she loved itㅡ the way those dirty words slipped off his tongue right into her ear and down to her cunt. y/n also didn't know spencer liker her that way. i mean, they kissedㅡ once. but that was months ago, and both of them were drunk.

her thoughts were broken off by the sound of spencer calling out to her. "you already thinking about me fucking you? godㅡ can't believe how fucking soaked you are."

y/n could only whimper as Spencer's long digits traced circles onto her clothed pussy, a dark chuckle evading his throat. "you're so filthy, y/n. you know Derek could barge in any moment now, yet..." he pushes her panties to the side with his index finger "you're so wet, i don't even have to prep you."

"spence, pleaseㅡ"

"shh, i know. you need to show me how desperate you are first." he pats her thigh before motioning between his legs. "on your knees."

y/n's eyes widened at his request, only a soft gasp parting form her open mouth. "don't make me repeat myself. you want me to fuck you? then show me how bad you want it."

it's like she was being a little doll on a string, the way all at once she practically threw herself on the floor and between Spencer's legs, palms situated on his knees.

"go ahead, angel."

she never had her heart beat so fast, she didn't even know it was possible. hesitatingly, she rises her hands to the hem of Reid's pants, letting the fly open. Spencer's bulge peeked through his boxers, making y/n's mouth go dry. "come on, y/n. you know we dont have all night."

nodding her head, y/n pulls his underwear and pants all at once, leaving Spencer's shaft to spring free and slap against his still dressed torso.

jesus christ ㅡ she heard the rumors that circulated around the BAU, but she thought they were just that: rumors. how wrong she was.

"still wanna do this, angel?"

"yesㅡ" she catches herself off guard with how fast she replies, face now so red.

"dirty girl." he smiles, placing his palm onto the crown of y/n's head. "get to work then."

leaning down, she grabs at his shaft as she gently wraps her mouth around the red tip that was leaking with precum, the bitter taste now invading y/n's tastebuds. reid throws his head back in response, tugging lightly at y/n's hair strands causing her to jolt in response.

with a bit more courage she sinks her mouth further. a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, and a mischievous smile crept across her face. She knew she was breaking the rules, but in that moment, the thrill of rebellion was intoxicating, making her feel alive in a way she hadn't before.

after a few more moves of her head y/n is stopped by specner with a forceful pull on her hair. "do you wanna continue, doll?"

"please, spence..."

She knew that she was treading on dangerous ground, and she couldn't predict the consequences of her actions. But in that moment, she couldn't stop herself from wanting to explore the forbidden.

"fuck, i never knew what was going on behind those eyes ㅡ you were always so hard to read. now i know...just a filthy girl that wants to fucked into oblivion." reid lets out a mocking chuckle, lightly slapping y/n on the cheek.

"go on. bend over the desk. and look at the door. i want everyone that comes through that door to see your face as i pound into you."

as y/n bent over the desk, her breast pressed onto the hard surface, she couldn't help but feel a rush of guilt and longing. Every stolen moment, every stolen glance, had brought her to this forbidden juncture.

it just clicked: she's gonna get fucked on this desk and at any moment someone could stumble on them. thing is... that's what was making her heart jump in anticipation.

the cold air brushed agains her skin as spencer lifted up her skirt, pulling to the side her panties and leaving her glistening cunt on full display. "jesus, you're soaked. this turning you on?" he laughs somberly.

"spence, p-please hurry..."

"needy girl."

stroking himself for a bit with the precum dripping from the pulsing tip, he teasingly rubs it against y/n's fold, making her whine in response. "shh. you're doing so well."

and with that he pushes in, fully, causing y/n to grit her teeth as to stop the loud cry stuck in her throat. her skin was burning, the pain so good it made her shiver. she was dripping all around reid's cock, biting back moans as he went at her from behind.

the room was filled by clapping, wet sounds and the occasional grunts and moans from both of them. y/n's mind was foggy, tongue lulling out as spencer increased his speed.

"f-fuckㅡ look how good you're taking me." he throws his head back, grabbing roughly at y/n's hips for leverage "what would you do if someone walked in right now? would you want me to continue fucking you, huh?"

"y-yes, spence, shitㅡ"

"god, angel. 'm gonna comeㅡ"

y/n writhes as she feels herself close, too, whole body shaking, toes curling and eyes rolling back when she finally orgasms. not long after, reid pumps himself a few more times before shooting long white ribbons along y/n's ass, gasping for air as he does.

"did so good for me, angel. let's hope we didn't mess up any of these files."

"reid, that's the least of my concerns right now."

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : WOHOOOO WE ARE EARLY!!!! ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD so grammatical errors are possible!!! this has 2.05K words so not a lot but i hope u enjoyed it!! this is my 1st eva spencer fanfic i wrote sooooooo yeah :D anyway tysm for reading ily <3

[alexa-fika]

Kitchen Menace (Thatch x gn!child!reader x Marco)

A/N: If you guys wish to see a specific scenario to read then do send an ask to let me know, or you know… you can just stop and say hi 😉

Dividers by @saradika

Marco sat at his desk as he meticulously went through the crew’s current analysis and checkups and made annotations on results he observed that struck him as peculiar and should follow up with his brothers. His concentration was broken as his door was suddenly slammed open. He quickly swirled his chair around to scold the intruder when he, the youngest crew member, ran in.

“Brother Marco! Help me, Brother Thatch is trying to get me!” The young child screamed, darting towards the doctor

Marco shakes his head and sighs, a chuckle escaping him.

“What did you do this time -yoi?”

“W-Why do you assume I did something! Someone could have done something to me!”

“Well, you have a tendency to cause trouble.” He casually responded, his attention now back on his papers

“Not true!” they huff a notable pout on their face.

Marco turns his sight from the papers at hand to Reader and frowns amusedly.

“And what about those broken plates I saw?”

“We went through pretty bad weather yesterday, big waves,” they reply with a nervous smile.

Marco stared at them for a few seconds before slowly returning to his papers.

“I don’t know which one is funnier, you trying to gaslight me or you lying to me,” He said in a calm tone of voice.

“Im not!”

“Sure, how about you tell me what happened, and I’ll consider helping you-yoi,” He said as he put his papers down and rested his head on his crossed arms.

“Now, what did you do this time that you are hiding-yoi?”

“Im innocent!”

“You’re on your own then if you din’ do anything, I’m sure you won’t need my help-yoi.”

“Okay! Okay! I may have sneaked into his kitchen.”

“Did you steal anything?” He said as he leaned to the side to rest his chin on one of his hands. His eyes were glaring at them, just waiting for them to answer.

“Sure did, got their hands on the pastries I was doing!” A voice says behind her

Reader squeals as they try to run away but are stopped as Thatch quickly picks them up.

“Where do you think you’re going, you little rascal? It’s time for some. payback,” he exclaims with a sly grin as he tickles them.

“No!”

Hahaha! You’re mine now!

“Brother Marco, help me!” they scream between their joyous screams and laughs that echo around the clinic.

Marco looks at them with a slight grin.

“What exactly do you want me to do, hm?”

“Save me!”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“You’re on your own.” He leans back in his chair and sips his coffee.

“Enjoy Your forthcoming”

“Haha! No one can save you now! I’mma tickle you till you pop!”

“Im going to tell Grandpa on you!” they scream, trying to wriggle away from him.

“You sure do run that mouth a lot,” he says, stopping his attack and narrowing his eyes.

“And I used it to eat all the yummy pastries, brother Thatch!” they tease.

“Oh, you wanna say that again? You wanna say that again?”

“They were so good, and brother won’t be able to taste them ’cause they’re all gone!”

“I have an idea of how to deal with you.”

They let out a small shriek as he suddenly throws them in the air, and they begin hysterically laughing as he continues to repeat the action.

“You are such a little menace.”

“But you love me!” they say, giving him a toothy grin.

I do love you, but you’re still a menace.

“Well, Brother Thatch and the others raised me, so…I had to learn it from somebody.”

Marco rolls his eyes.

“They’re not wrong,” he mutters under his breath as he sips his coffee.

They laugh as they hear Marco’s comment, hugging Thatch’s neck tight.

“Am sorry for eating the pastries; I was just hungry.”

“Awww. Apology accepted. How about you help me make some more? You can even be my taster.”

First reader oneshot! Hopefully, there's more to come. I'm willing to try my hands at not only child! reading but romantic scenarios too, so let me hear your suggestions!

[dysfunctionalupsidedown]

Mike Wheeler: Trauma, Insecurity, and "STurn" (Analysis)

In "From the Hair Chair: Finn Wolfhard | Stranger Things", which is available on the official Stranger Things YouTube channel, Finn Wolfhard addresses the question, "What's going on with Mike Wheeler in Season 4?"

Mike Wheeler’s behavior in S4 has confused many, especially general audiences. However, if you look at the bigger picture, his progression (or regression) into the Mike Wheeler we know from S4 does make sense. To get a clear idea of what’s going on with him, we must look at the four seasons sequentially and with a more subtextual eye. We have a few physical puzzle pieces, and for now, we need to fill in the rest with our imagination based on evidence. A Mike point of view isn’t particularly needed to fully understand this, although it would be helpful for the GA and is something I want from S5.

In relation to this particular interview, I’ll examine Stranger Things (2016) for the past and present and “STurn” for the possible future. “STurn” actually does tell us a bit about how Mike’s self-identity arc will potentially continue in S5 and wrap up.

Also, I understand that “STurn” isn’t factual and is not even confirmed to be related to ST5. Though I don’t believe this entire analysis is instantly negated by my use of the playlist, as its only purpose here is to assume a hypothetical future. Aside from the Finn interview, everything else comes straight from the show and holds a reasonable explanation for Mike’s behavior up until the end of S4.

Remember, this post is for fun and speculation, and "STurn" is the best we have right now. Just keep in mind that I’m going into this analysis assuming it’s related to Mike Wheeler in S5. I could be entirely incorrect. Similarly, this interview isn’t wholly factual either, as it’s not what’s in the show, but it relates enough to what we’ve been shown of Mike for me to comment on.

This might be a lengthier post. Be warned.

If you’re still here and interested, I’ll get right into it.

Trauma

Finn first addresses how each of the characters are dealing with their past trauma, and that is a perfect way to describe Mike’s behavior in S4. I think a lot of people, especially the general audience, forget that, yes, while these are all characters, trauma does have the ability to affect them and change their behavior. There was an entire “Your original character before trauma vs. after trauma” trend on TikTok a minute back, and that wasn’t for nothing. 

Mike, just in S1, witnessed one of his best friends go missing, watched this best friend turn up apparently dead (as well as see his “body”), went to his funeral, jumped off of a ledge, saw his other newfound friend disappear, and so much more. Don't even get me started on the following seasons.

Mike is afraid of losing. That’s what happened to him in S1. He lost. First Will, then El. 

His fear of loss and determination to keep things in his life are significant parts of his character and have been since S1. That’s why he was so intent on finding Will. That's why he checked his walkie for El every night. That’s why he acts out in S3-S4. This isn’t an excuse for his behavior, but an explanation. It’s part of his trauma, and we see this in S4 with his fear of losing Will and El again: “Maybe I feel like I lost you or something,” and “I can't lose you,” respectively. I theorize that he fears being out of control regarding these things.

A lack of control also explains why he was so volatile to Will and El during and after Rink-O-Mania. For Will, Mike addresses this directly to him when he apologizes. It’s made evident to the audience that he acted cold in part because he thought Will was slipping away, but truthfully, he wasn’t aloof. He noticed everything about Will’s behavior and even managed to make the tragedy of that day about their friendship. Now, back to the apology, “About the last few days… You didn’t deserve anything… The truth is, the last year has been weird… Maybe I was worrying too much about El… And, I don’t know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something.” His defensiveness during the argument at the rink seems more like a trauma response than straight-up disinterest, which some people apparently think.

For El, I think this translates into him wanting her to need him. If El needs him, then there’s no way he can lose her, right? We know from the show that she doesn’t need him anymore. Mike also acknowledges this multiple times, and that thought terrifies him. In the last episode, he explains this to her, “... The truth is, El, I don’t know how to live without you… I can’t lose you, okay?”

Before Will shows Mike the painting in the van, Mike explains his dilemma. Will tries reassuring Mike, telling him that El will be fine, and Mike says he understands that. Mike then explains his true concern, “But what if after all this is over, she doesn’t need me anymore?... The truth is, when I stumbled on her in the woods, she just needed someone. It’s not fate, it’s not destiny, it’s just simple dumb luck. And one day, she's gonna realize that I’m just some random nerd that got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep. I mean, at least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for The Daily Planet.” 

Will continues to comfort him, focusing more on the loss aspect of Mike’s trauma, which is made evident here. But those lines also make it clear that Mike is afraid El will realize his inferiority to her and abandon him. This is a good transition into Mike’s insecurity.

Insecurity

I’ve seen people argue against what Finn says here because Mike is part of the somewhat “outcast” group at school. I don’t think trying to argue that takes away from the fact that Mike did, does, and will continue to try and lead a “normal” lifestyle. He’s a teenage boy with a girlfriend and a friend group he fits into. That’s normal. He’s trying to get by. 

It was the same in S3. Mike was a kid with friends, a girlfriend, and a new want for maturity. It’s not unrealistic that the character is aging out of or into specific behaviors, especially ones that he’s previously exhibited. That leads us to his insecurity. 

We’ve had hints of it starting as far back as S1E3, when Troy injures Mike, and he initially lies about it to El so that he doesn’t seem like a loser. Similarly, these themes pick up with Will in S3E3 during their fight in the rain, “...We’re not kids anymore. I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?”

Curiously, Mike is shown to be especially “normal” in California. He dresses differently than he does in Hawkins and acts more aloof. As Argyle says, “It’s a shitty knock-off.” Skipping forward to the “... She's gonna realize that I’m just some random nerd that got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep… at least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for The Daily Planet” line, and we have a good enough view of Mike’s internal conflict.

He is deeply insecure, and it seems particularly so around El. I don’t know if this was addressed in the show, and I wish we had seen some of Mike’s letters, but does El even know about the Hellfire Club? I don’t believe we’re given any indication that she does, which could imply that Mike kept it hidden from her. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering his complete attitude change in California. Also keeping in mind that Mike stopped playing D&D when he was with her in S3 and only continued to play in S4 while El was away.

Mike also displays this insecurity by choosing to distance Will. For what reason, I can’t say for sure, but it’s probably something “abnormal.” 

Regardless, his insecurity ties into his fear of loss. The more normal he is, the more things he can maintain in life and the less he has to lose. Especially when it comes to El. It all stems back to his fear, not genuine malintent, and I see too many viewers misunderstand this. 

It also works the opposite way, to a different and lesser extent. If he’s out of Hellfire Club, he loses his “normal teenage clique.” Aside from losing El completely as someone he profoundly cares about, if he loses El as a partner, he loses his girlfriend. That’s a blow to his normality. 

Will is confusing to me. If he “loses” Will, just like he felt he did at the beginning of S4, he falls more into the pattern of trying to be normal. There’s no impact on his normality. By keeping Will at arms-length, Mike gravitated more towards his “shitty knock-off” version of himself. Something about Will brings out what Mike feels is abnormal in him, so by distancing himself, he could avoid it altogether. That’s likely in part what caused such a conflict at the beginning of S4: Mike’s inability to be “normal” while fully keeping Will in his life and vice versa, his inability to lose Will just to maintain normalcy.

"STurn"

We’ve focused on trauma and insecurity. Now, it’s time for self-identity. I think that's a theme in store for the future. I'll refer back to the “STurn” analysis I previously did.

Many of the songs on this playlist contain themes of a false identity. I’ll start with “Angst In My Pants” first. To quote my "STurn" analysis:

This song is about a person attempting to be someone they're not, suppressing who they really are, and it ultimately leading to dissatisfaction. The lyrics, "You can dress nautical / Learn to tie knots / Take lots of Dramamine / Out on your yacht" describe a faux lifestyle one lives that only serves to hurt them in the end: The idea of putting on a self-harming persona. This could be what Mike is going through in S5.

Next, we have "Substitute":

This track is about an idealized version of someone being put in place of their true self. The narrator describes a scenario in which their partner sees a version of them, "I'm a substitute for another guy / I look pretty tall but my heels are high / The simple things you see are all complicated / I look bloody young, but I'm just back-dated, yeah", that is unrealistic and put on, as seen in the lyrics "Substitute your lies for fact / I see right through your plastic mac / I look all white, but my dad was black / My fine-looking suit is really made out of sack"... The concept of a guise applies well to Mike, as referenced in Angst In My Pants. A recurring theme of hiding oneself really makes me think Mike is going to completely abandon his interests for a different lifestyle. I believe Finn has also mentioned that Mike wants to be as "normal" as possible, so I can't wait to see [how far] they take that idea. It could also be him realizing how he's been acting, and admitting that this "romanticized" version isn't true to him.

Finally, "The Rebel Kind":

Like The Better Side, I couldn't find any lyrics, so I'm doing it by ear. Though, I'm happy to say that this song is about a desire to embrace differences and rebellion. "We'll be free to run with the rebel kind" and "It's not easy, but I don't mind / I just want to run with the rebel kind" establish that. The track appears to tie into Mike's insecurity struggles throughout the playlist. It could be the narrator's struggle to keep up with societal norms before finally giving in to their truth instead of trying to conform, read as "they call us rebels but don't get how hard it is to for us to keep up." On the other hand, it could be the narrator commenting on how society doesn't understand people like them, and, by embracing their true selves, it proves more about who they are than conforming ever would; read as, "you think we're the rebellious ones, but you don't understand that we're more self-secure and strong than you'll ever be." I can see both of these interpretations working for Mike and his connection to the Party. The progression of insecurity in Angst In My Pants and potential realization of this guise in Substitute is wrapped up by Mike's self-acceptance here. I really hope this is how it plays out in S5.

Conclusion

Mike's brewing insecurity, paired with his trauma of loss, seems like it may boil over in S5. I theorize that he’ll drift even more into his “shitty knock-off” self, even if just on the surface, and do whatever he can to maintain normalcy in his life. Whether this leads to more conflict with Will, we’ll have to wait and see.

Besides that, Mike might eventually accept his "differences." He also may be willing to cope with loss for what it is, even if it’s the loss of the normalcy he tries so hard to maintain in certain situations. I can see Mike having a heavy emphasis on self-identity in S5, and as I said earlier, I can’t wait to see where they take that.

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed!

As is customary with all my posts, if anything here is incorrect or you believe there’s something I should add, feel free to let me know. I’d love to have more conversations about Mike and read all the predictions for S5 I can.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Can you do a deep analysis of the last paragraph of MJ, before the epilogue? 😭 I can grasp the gist of it, but I feel like it's not all right

Bro you really want this? Deep dive analysis into possibly the most analyzed passage in the whole series? All right. Let's go. First, the whole passage:

Now let's break it up.

Peeta and I grow back together.

I think there are two ways to take this sentence, really they both apply. The first is "Peeta and I grow back together" as in, they become as they were before the hijacking, which was in sync and in love. The second is "Peeta and I grow back together" as in, they both heal from the horrors they've had to face and as they do this together, side by side, each one having the other's backs. There's a reason why Everlarkers are so obsessed with this line, it's spawned a whole subtype of fanfiction. Grow back together, like the meadow that grew back from the bombs of the Capitol.

There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children.

Suzanne's father was a veteran of the Vietnam War. I could have sworn I read an interview where she mentioned her father having nightmares, though I can't find it now. However in her picture book The Year of the Jungle, Suzanne notes some PTSD symptoms her father had, including spacing out and being back in the jungle. Here we see Katniss and Peeta both have intrusive symptoms of PTSD, similar to what Suzanne's father had. These are struggles that they continue to deal with because of the way the world used and traumatized them.

But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips.

Following Katniss referencing her nightmares, we get this information, that Peeta first holds Katniss after these nightmares. At some point in time, he's welcomed back into her bed as he was during the Victory Tour and Quarter Quell. Then, at some point following this, his lips comfort her, implying that after nightmares he kisses her.

Katniss and Peeta are familiar with kissing one another, though all but one in canon up to this point has been in front of an audience. Yet we see the difference in how Katniss kissed Peeta in the first book, where it was more calculated for the camera, and how it is in Catching Fire where even in the Quell, they kiss each other without a second thought about it, how naturally it flows into their interactions. Here, Katniss implies that same ease and natural path from holding to kissing. Peeta's lips become a comfort to her after she sees her worst fears play out in her nightmares.

On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.

There are two instances in canon that Katniss was able to fully immerse herself in kissing Peeta without worrying about the Games or Gale. The first is following Peeta getting the medicine in the first Games. Right before the kiss, Katniss says, "...the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread." The second is, of course, the iconic beach scene, where she says, "I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. 'I do,' I say. 'I need you.'"

We don't know what led up to this particular night, but from the two instances before, it was likely a great emotional connection. Perhaps it was even Katniss realizing that even if she had the two suitors in front of her, it would have been Peeta she'd have chosen in the end. And this emotional connection is what prompts that "hunger that overtook [her] on the beach."

This is how Katniss describes that "hunger" in CF: "The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind." This description is about Katniss's first canon experience with sexual attraction. The kissing only makes her "need greater" and the only comparable experience she has is "hunger." A hunger for "more." More what? They're already kissing and they become "wrapped up" in each other. It stands to reason, then, that her body is asking for further sexual stimulation. There is the emotional connection, with Katniss realizing the depth of her grief if Peeta dies and she lives, in connection to her sexual desire.

And here we also have another favorite of the Everlark community: "this would have happened anyway." Perhaps anticipating the response from "Team Gale" that Peeta won by forfeit, Collins and Katniss are clarifying that no, Katniss would have actively chosen Peeta. That "anyway" tells so much. It's not "if Gale had come back to District 12 but I still saw him responsible for my sister's death." It's anyway. No matter what condition or events, Katniss would have grown back together with Peeta, would have brought him back into her bed, would have felt aroused by him and chosen him as her life partner.

That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself.

Up to this point, Gale really only has two associations with fire: first when he and Katniss are at the lake and she's describing Snow's threats as he cooks them food. And last, the bombs that killed Prim. Here we see the dual nature of Gale's fire. One is homey and nurturing, the other destructive. Gale is both. There was a time when his fire helped keep Katniss's going, and she did to his. Katniss says it here, she has "plenty of fire" herself. Only Gale's fire is not limited to the hearth. When given the chance, the wind picks up his fire and flamed it outside of the hearth and into brush of "rage and hatred." He thought he was defending himself and other vulnerable people. But fire is difficult to control once it begins to burn and Gale lost control of his when he shared his plans with Beetee and Coin. And even in smaller instances, when Gale's fire fought Katniss's fire, they simply burned out. On a personal level, their similarities are what drew them apart from each other.

In comparison, Peeta is described as being a "whiz" at fires, even lighting up damp wood. Following Prim's death, Katniss says she has "no fire." Gale's fire burnt out hers. Yet we see here that Katniss says she "has plenty of fire" herself. Who stoked her fire back to life but the boy she grew back together with? The one who could rouse her from mental anguish and hopelessness, and also soothe her when her anger was roused up? Gale's fire puts her out. Peeta's hand steadies her flame.

What I need is a dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.

Here I am going to go on a bit of a nerd-out on the dandelion here. In some variations of the Theseus and the Minotaur story (which THG is loosely inspired by), Hecate feeds Theseus dandelions for 30 days before his encounter with the Minotaur to give him strength. In others, he ate a dandelion salad after killing the Minotaur. The Minotaur is Crete's version of The Hunger Games, and Theseus ends it by killing the Minotaur.

Katniss first associates dandelions with Peeta after catching his eye the day following the evening when he threw bread to her and he had a bruised cheek. This dandelion gave her hope and is one she associates with Peeta from the beginning of the story. This dandelion gave Katniss strength to keep fighting and providing for her family, the first Minotaur the Capitol puts up against its people, their hunger and poverty. Then on the way to the 74th Games, Katniss has determined that Peeta's kindness is a play of his and she throws out his father's cookies to be rid of any kindness from the Mellarks, but they land "in a patch of dandelions by the track. I only see the image for a moment, because the train is off again, but it's enough. Enough to remind me of that other dandelion in the school yard years ago." This dandelion then reminds her of the ways she braved the wood alone at first, how she made trades, took what her father had taught her and applied it. And this reminder lingers with her on her journey for the ultimate fight of her life (so far), the Hunger Games. She is once again fed by the dandelions on her way to face her Minotaur.

Through the Games, Katniss loses her free will, her privacy, and any remaining peace she had left. This of course launches into the whole of the series where she's deafened, manipulated, publicized, flaunted, scarred, terrorized, sees others killed and kills other. By the end of Mockingjay, she's "a badly burned girl with no wings. With no fire. And no sister." Katniss has faced "destruction" on a personal, familial, and community level due to the wings staples on her and the fire others lit and she has little left at the end.

And yet, even when she so badly wants to die, when Peeta tells her he can't let go, she holds on. She holds on until "spring's in the air" and her dandelion in the spring, Peeta, returns. While the dandelions of his kindness fed her after her father's death and before the Hunger Games, here he is nourishing her again after the war. Reminding her of the goodness that there still is in life, "no matter how bad our losses." And for both Katniss and Peeta, they've had really, really bad losses.

And here it is: dandelions to Katniss are not just a pretty flower, or a symbol of wealth as the rose is to Snow. Dandelions are food. They are nourishment. Dandelions can even be medicine. They grow everywhere and can be found everywhere, bright little suns that can offer so much. Peeta is that to her as well. He nourishes her, strengthens her, is her medicine, and the only person she consummates a romantic and sexual relationship with and fulfills the "hunger" that is "an entirely new kind" to her. He gives her life in every way that is possible and gives her a rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real."

"So after" we can canonically take as whatever came after she felt hunger (aka sexual desire). It's difficult to interpret it other than that this is when they consummated their relationship, in the very least engaging in some sexual act beyond kissing. Because Katniss says that Peeta's arms and eventually his lips helped her through her nightmares, and this is more than that. It is enough to stand apart and prompt Peeta to clarify his greatest question in the series, about whether or not Katniss loves him.

"Real or not real" was a game Katniss and Peeta have been playing since the beginning. Was Peeta really that kind? Did Katniss actually have feelings for Peeta, even when both knew it had started as an act? What is their relationship if the Capitol is making them play at being a happy couple? Although the hijacking made Peeta question his entire life, even without the hijacking, this is surely something he would have had to ask anyway, and only more so after the hijacking.

Finally having taken time to grieve, to come back to life, to grow back with a partner she trusts, Katniss can confirm to him that yes, she loves him. The final word answering one of the earliest questions in the series: who does Katniss love romantically, if anyone? And the answer, that has been there since his name first appeared: Peeta Mellark.

[oneshotnewbie]

Emily PrentissxJennifer JareauxReader:

The reader is working for the BAU and has a really bad migraine (She has chronic migraines but didn't tell anyone). She is really mad and distant toward her friends (you can include the boys too but make me girls main please) and they notice it and have a little intervention with her. After that a lot of fluff where Emily and JJ care for her

Authors note: Unfortunately I don´t have an Emily Prentiss x Daughter reader story, but I have added a new one to write. Until then, there is only one Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau x Reader story from me today

ᕚ---ᕘ

You could say that you were a person with enormous stamina and a high tolerance level. Something that was a must for anyone who worked as a Supervisory Special Agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and under Aaron Hotch. Many people admired you for not jumping off the next cliff under the unbearable circumstances of this job.

And you yourself sometimes admired your own achievements. But everyone had their limits and it was a recurring thing that happened during your work hours. You ignored the first triggers. You exceeded your physical limits and your migraine appeared.

You could have guessed it when you got back on the plane from Oxford. The terrible serial killer and the panic it caused in the city, the fact that he had abused and murdered seven women. This case had taken more of a toll on you than you would have liked and you tried to deal with your problems in your own way. Which meant you threw yourself into the work, no matter how mundane every clue was and no matter what wall you hit.

“Y/n, maybe you should take a break?” begged Emily, noticing that you were doing everything you could to get Oxford out of your bones as quickly as possible. You, however, waved her off without saying a word and continued to stare at the white board on which every clue was hanging. "Do not need a break, I am fine." The black-haired went along with it, stayed by your side and tolerated your moods even when they drove her crazy.

Non-stop, without a break and with lack of sleep and malnutrition, you battled the nagging headaches and mild nausea. You became more and more tired, yawned and became increasingly sensitive to the loud noises of the office. Something you could tolerate skillfully. But Emily and your colleagues not.

You clearly knew you were on the verge of a migraine when you started seeing visual symptoms of a migraine aura. Your vision became distorted, sometimes weaker, sometimes sharper. For a few minutes you only saw white in your left eye, but you kept going, not giving yourself a break. You knew that no other woman could die because of you.

Hour after hour you were exhausted and just trudged from the office to the coffee machine. With a nasty headache and feeling like you might throw up, you swallowed it all and sat down on a chair while Penelope talked loudly to Derek. You felt like your head was going to explode at any moment from their voices. "Could you PLEASE shut up or at least go to another room to flirt with each other?" you huffed and massaged your temples, their sighs ringing like a hurricane in your ears. "Some people want to work here."

"Babygirl, are you okay?" he asked, surprised at your momentary outburst. He had never been allowed to see you like this, you had never snapped at him. A sharp pain shot through your temples and you hastily stood up. "Hey, cutie pie? What is going on?" the technical analyst also chimed in and waited for any kind of answer.

"I am fine, just leave me alone." your words came out of your mouth hastily and probably slurred, but you did not care. You had to go to the toilet immediately. Without turning around again, you quickly walked out of the office and stumbled in the direction you were heading. Every time you made contact with the ground, the headache got worse and you begged not to throw up on the way. You saw distorted vision in your right eye while small white flashes danced in front of it.

Rushing into the bathroom, you stood in front of the sink, panting and swallowing convulsively. Having migraines was terrible and right now you could not use one. You sighed in relief when you did not throw up, as long as you did not, it was not all that bad.

Loud footsteps sounded outside the door and a knock made your head explode. “Oh, y/n.” A rough voice spoke and you looked in the mirror. Emily and JJ had pushed through the door one after the other and were now standing with their backs to you, their arms crossed over their chests. Furthermore, you paid attention to your reflection in the mirror, which said that any idiot could see that a corpse in pathology looked healthier than you. So did the trained agents on your team. "What is wrong?"

You did not even hear half of the sentence, the second word was the end of it. You ran into one of the stables, fell to your knees and managed to bend over the toilet just in time. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears streamed down your cheeks and you threw up violently. “y/n?” the blondes voice had an worried undertone and you did not notice her standing strictly behind you. The next thing you felt were cool hands on your neck and shoulders.

Jerking away from the touch, leaning your head back against the wall as you pulled your knees into your body. You tried to block so many sounds and other sensations from your body, while only this crushing and throbbing pain existed in your head.

Once again you felt cold hands on your skin and everything in you protested as they helped him to his feet, an arm was placed around your shoulder and led you out of the bathroom and through the hallway. Soon your face made contact with a pillow and a relieved sigh rolled past your lips. You did not know where you were, just that it was quiet. Still, your currently oversensitive ears heard Hotch appearing to be talking to Emily, JJ, and the rest of the group. "No, we have no idea what is going on."

“Did you ask her?”

"We tried, but we got no response." at some point there was an angry snort at the blonde's answer and there were more footsteps in front of the door. The squeaking sound echoed through your head, pounding inside before the space on the couch shrank and a shadow appeared in front of you. "Sweetie, cards on the table. Tell us what is going on?"

The voice of the of the blonde was painful, yet it was strangely comforting to hear a familiar and loving voice. Still, you flinched violently as something cool was brushed onto your forehead. The nausea slowly subsided. "Chronic migraines since adolescence. But not so severe for a while."

Long fingers tugged at the disheveled and stray strands of hair on your face before she stood up again and walked to the windows. The room darkened, blinds closed and you moaned pleasantly. After making a trip to the door, she told the expected teammates what you had told her. You only heard a quiet "I will stay with her, but someone has to get me the medication out of my bag," before the door closed quietly and she sat down on the office chair, looking over you thoughtfully.

JJ waited for Emily to come back with some things and watched you laying there in pain, exhausted and completely distracted by the thunder in your head, trying to be as silent as she could. A few minutes later, the door opened again. You saw Emily through squinted eyes and spotted a bucket in her hand, a bowl of water, wipes under her arms and a large disposable syringe.

"What do you want to inject into me?" you asked surprised and a little frightened by the size of the abnormally large syringe. The blonde knelt down in front of you, pulling up your sweater and waiting for the black-haired one to hand it over. "Metoclopramide,"

"How do you know what to inject into me and where did you get it from?"

"You are not the only one who gets migraines. I used to get them often enough and since then I have always had an injection with me to protect myself from them in case they happen again." she frowned and laughed quietly. You nodded in acceptance and there was a moment of silence before a hot, stabbing pain shot through your lower torso and you cried out. "That hurts!"

Emily sat on the armrest and slipped her fingers between your own. You squeezed it tightly and she hoped to take the temporary pain away from you. "Why did not you tell us?" the black-haired asked sadly you huffed through gritted teeth. "I did not want to be a burden to you. I did not want to seem weak," you replied, shrugging.

"It was stupid of you not to say anything. At least to JJ or me." She paused briefly and you raised your head in confusion before nodding in understanding and looking over at the blonde. With a half-smile, she placed a band-aid on the wound and placed a thin blanket over your legs. "Okay. Next time I will let you know, I promise."

They both nodded and stood up. While JJ was putting away the trash, Emily leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head before she disappeared out of the door. "I will make you some tea,"

"You never make tea."

"I will do it today for a very special and stubborn person." She spoke in a whisper, winking at you. You laughed quietly and already felt a million times better than you did a few minutes ago. With a yawn, you sank deeper into the pillow and watched as the blonde turned on a small lamp at the desk in the dark room so she could continue working. "Thanks,"

[thefirstknife]

Okay, this is it for Act I and now we have to stew for 20 days, I'm okay and not feeling abnormal at all (lie). But there's SO MUCH that I want to mention.

The mission starts normally, we're just collecting samples for Failsafe, but then Osiris calls us to come help him with Saint. And then shit hits the fan. Saint has apparently walked off alone into Nessus and isn't answering his comms. Normal and cool!

I'll go into the whole thing, under read more for length (long ass post, I'm having normal thoughts and feelings about this whole thing):

Right away, no more lake where we were fishing (only in the mission though):

Strange! The Vex appear to have let Saint pass through here without a fight. Once again, there's a mix of Vex in this area; some are normal Vex units with collars and some are Precursors without (the boss, the cyclops and the hobgoblins are Precursors):

The Precursors aren't collared, but they still participate in this and are also changed ("uplifted choral cyclops" = part of the chorus even without a yoke). This is incredibly strange. And then more strange information:

Okay!!! What is going on! We've seen in the last week's lore page that the Vex are behaving incredibly strangely. In short, they seem to be behaving more like individuals, rather than what we're used to seeing from them. This adds to that. They are developing tactics and changes that they previously weren't engaged with because, essentially, they didn't have to be.

Anyway, we get to finally hear Saint and he's... Talking to himself. About how he's not real. We find him collared and he appears to be hearing a voice talking to him; the voice is only identified as a "Conductor." At this point, I don't think there's any doubt about this being Maya. The same term was used by her in her experiments with the Veil: she needed someone to be a "conductor" to the "chorus" of minds when she was trying to merge fabricate consciousness (which she succeeded in with Lakshmi). Maya died in the "conductor's chair." What we don't know is ... Well. Anything else. What is she doing and why and what state is she in. The assumption right now is that she's using the Vex as a chorus, but why are they allowing this and why are some of them participating even without the collars? No clue.

What's interesting is that she seems to have analysed Saint and knew about him, either from her own analysis of him after observing him during our expeditions or from the Vex themselves. Or both. I suspect a combination of both because he's been involved with what we've been doing so she would've been interested to see why, and then she would've also gotten additional information from the Vex who recognise him. I would assume the Vex also had information about the rest of us, including Osiris and YW, but Saint was easiest to control.

With what she was telling him, it also means that Maya now knows how we saved him. His entire story is directly linked to the Vex and Vex technology so naturally all of this would be recorded with them and would allow Maya to find out about it. She knows that in some timelines he dies and he is saved in this one. She filled his head with the idea that he doesn't belong here, that he shouldn't have been saved. That he's an error that's "corrupting the true timeline."

As a sidenote, when you come into this room, Curse of Osiris music starts playing, again, as it has been playing for a lot of stuff this episode (specifically the Panoptes fight track). I'm super glad to hear that OST again. I'm also insane about them dropping Mercury music and Precursors at me.

Saint has more concerning lines:

And then we reach him:

Totally okay scene to see. Saint in his bubble, with a yoke, Vex arranged around him in their worshipping pose and the mysterious figures hovering above him. Saint continues:

Okay! *cries* He snaps out of it when Ikora reminds him of Osiris. Old man yaoi wins again!!

Then there's the conversation between Osiris, Saint, Ikora and Failsafe where Osiris is desperately trying to convince Saint that he's real and fine and that there's nothing wrong with him. I crode.... Man, they really said "you WILL watch these old men lovingly put hands on each other." But also, Saint confirms that he just heard a voice speaking to him on Nessus and that he couldn't do anything except obey its commands. It wasn't a Vex; Saint describes it as something that "connected to his mind" and called itself the "Conductor."

Failsafe pointed out that the Vex and Exo share radiolaria as a "base material" and that the Vex were perhaps trying to interface with Saint for information about what we're doing. But Saint said that they did not care about that at all. Instead, they "measured" Saint's "humanity" and "legitimacy."

Osiris does his best to convince him otherwise:

Bro. I am crying in the club what the fuck. Osiris had access to other Saints, but he didn't want to mess with them. He wanted to save the Saint he knew. It was the whole deal with the Sundial being so specific to find "the right moment" and "the right Saint" to save him and why it didn't work for Osiris, because of the paradox with the Young Wolf.

Ikora points out that this is all just a tactic against us and Saint does seem to understand that, and Osiris' reassurances, but it's still difficult to deal with. Saint has previously already dealt with the feelings of not being sure if anything he's experiencing is real. He's spent decades in the Infinite Forest surrounded by simulations. It's a hard thing to adjust to, especially with all he's been through since.

He'll need time to process this. He needs to be alone.

Failsafe is normal about it:

You and me too bestie!

But wait! There's more! We still have the radio message which is between Osiris and Ikora talking about the changes to Nessus and the Vex. It's naturally Osiris' way to distract himself from the issues with Saint, but also we really do need to keep researching what's going on so he's got a good idea. Nessus is "changing rapidly" according to Osiris, "moreso than when the Vex first assimilated it, if Red War records can be trusted." Osiris also notes that this isn't just limited to Nessus, but to everything, including our data and the radiolaria that we collected. They're "mutating."

This bit in particular is important and concerning because that's just not how the Vex do things. As Osiris said, when they change, they change because they have time shenanigans so they essentially gather data in the future and transmit it back, then alter themselves from the past, to appear as if they were always that way. But now? They're adapting "in real time." They learn linearly and adapt on the go.

This is bizarre with the utilisation of Precursors because they are the past Vex. However, they do not have the collars so they're not directly "compelled" and yet, they still participate and change alongside all of the other collared Vex. They also send their minds, again, not collared, to control the collared Vex and lead them. This is baffling.

Ikora is linking this to the impact of the anomaly, the echo. While Saint was down there, Geppetto mapped some of it, including the radiolaria around the site; apparently, the Vex are "swirling around the impact site for miles below the surface." It's also "causing disturbances in the planet's EM field." Ikora concludes that the Vex must be doing "something big."

Osiris also mentions the importance of Saint saying that it was a singular voice directing him, not a collective one, like a Vex would be. He reminds us that this isn't how Vex do things usually and this thing with Saint was just a test. He speculates, and Ikora agrees, that the Vex behaviour is like this because they found "a new leader." Obviously, the Conductor.

That concludes Act I. The seasonal activity, Breach Executable, has new lines as well. I've only played one, got some more sad Saint lines and then had to pause to stop crying. Act II starts in 20 days.

But wait. There's MORE! Of course we can't forget the seasonal lore page. And this is also where they went straight for the jugular. The lore page is about Mithrax visiting Saint and finding him not feeling well. Saint is distressed and Mithrax is trying to help him feel better, especially about his feelings of not belonging. Mithrax understands those feelings and he's trying his best to help Saint not feel that way. A little bit of joy in the gloom:

Saint groaned and waved the question away. "Do not say something smart to me now. Osiris does this, and I have had enough of it."

I LOVE when Saint compares Osiris and Mithrax, it's so good and also funny. But anyway, let's get back to the pain. As Saint realises where Mithrax is going with his questions, he relents and accepts that yes, sometimes we feel like we don't belong, but that is clearly not true.

And then Mithrax experiences something strange:

Suddenly, his vision narrowed and darkened. His headache shrieked, filling his mind with blinding pain. He doubled over as a terrifying urge—RULE, KELL—roared through his chest. The pigeons burst away in harried flight, leaving the seed untouched on the ground. Saint was still watching the pigeons wheel through the sky and down into the City. Mithrax wrapped his arms around himself until the shaking subsided and took a deep draw of Ether. "You are good friend," Saint said quietly, his gaze fixed on the City. Mithrax walked over slowly and sat down next to him again. "I try," he said softly.

Hello? Okay. So on top of Saint having massive issues, we're still seeding the future plot of something getting absolutely the fuck worse with Mithrax. Cool. Cool. I'm jumping off a bridge.

And Mithrax doesn't tell Saint about this, obviously. Saint is preoccupied with his own problems now and this is the way of Titan; care for others first, then yourself. Mithax should NOT be copying this from Saint, but alas. Enjoy brewing in this little piece of terrifying information until we get more on it next episode, I presume.

But wait. There's EVEN MORE! For finishing Act I, we got another lore page, from another lore book called Dynasty. We had no clue what this would be until now.

And well. It's a completely separate story from ancient past, about the Qugu civilisation. This is an incredibly packed lore page, one of the longest I've seen to be honest and it features a lot of bizarre alien stuff from an ancient civilisation, but the gist of it, for now until I can truly dive into it; it follows a member of the Qugu species as he's rising in the ranks to become a military leader. The Qugu are ancient civilisation we first learned about in the Books of Sorrow, as they were wiped out by the Hive. We got an update on them in Inspiral, telling us they were Darkness users, utilising the psychic abilities to connect each other's consciousnesses and talk to their ancestors.

In this page, we see some stuff about their culture, their connection to the creatures they're in symbiosis with, the way their civilisation worked in regards to how they ruled and how many planets they occupied. It's a fascinating read, but fairly hard to get through. The page ends with the Qugu discovering the Hive and the Black Fleet that attacked one of their systems and they try to get back to warn the others. I assume the rest of the book will be about the Qugu as well, to further flesh out this plot.

Why this now? I am unsure. Possible setup for something going forward down the line? One other idea I've had is that this will somehow relate to the "ally" of Maya we speculated about when I talked about the lore pages from the seasonal exotic gear. It makes sense that this "ally" is an alien because of Maya mentioning his fascinating origin, culture and biology. This would also explain why we got this lore book for finishing Act I, as it would make it relevant to what's going on. But this is, for now, a really big speculation. We'll need more pages, which I assume we'll get for finishing other Acts, so good look not exploding in curiosity until then (I've already exploded). I'll most certainly analyse this lore page more in-depth because there is NOTHING in this world I am more interested than digging into ancient space civilisations.