#after all governments always hide the truth

[senpaiquirks]

Quirk Idea (Part One)

I had done a Writing Prompt, and I decided to make it into an OP quirk for y'all <3

Quirk Name: Truth Clairvoyance

Ability: The user will instantly know the truth to any/all questions asked.

Quirk Awakening: The user can not only know the truth instantly, but can also make others instantly know the truth as well (shared telepathy).

Weakness: This is not a quirk that increases one's bodily strength or emit any ability, so it can go unnoticed quite easily. The user also has to respond to any questions asked to them, whether they want to or not.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Best Laid Plans

(Chapter 18 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Caesar Clown (implied), Smoker x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: language, reader is still going through it, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, breeding kink, Doflamingo is a freak (as always)

Chapter Synopsis: The morning after your and Doflamingo’s public engagement and actual marriage, he’s already working towards what he wants from you next. And you begin learning a bit more about the family you’ve now been chained to. All while this news of your union begins affecting even those who want nothing to do with you.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

——————————

——————————

“I have to say…this is unusual, Caesar. Am I to feel like the pay I’ve already wired was insufficient this time? Or have you just had higher priorities this week outside of me?”

Caesar Clown was staring at that snail on the lab table in front of him, and the wholly disappointed edge behind every additional word.

Simply not answering Joker’s phone calls at any hour they might come had never been an option. Punk Hazard was far too close to Dressrosa for one thing. And Doflamingo’s warlord status allowed him impromptu visits whenever he’d wished on this otherwise restricted government island.

But even more important than that constant threat of his proximity, was the fact that Caesar wanted to answer when this man called for him.

Everything about Doflamingo intrigued him really. Every new test of his scientific skills that the pirate could offer him, every new payday, and every thrill of power by association that came along with it all.

Joker had a way about him that just couldn’t be refused, an equally dangerous and charismatic provider like no other.

And this conflict of emotion was only further proven in the way Caesar’s stomach twisted with fear, simultaneous to his face flushing with embarrassment as he tried to lie. “I just wanted this to be perfect for you, Joker. That’s all.” 

The truth and real reason for Caesar’s unexpected delay was something far different of course. A setback that the scientist had no idea how to yet articulate when it involved his favorite client so personally as this.

Because the flaw wasn’t in the new concoction itself that Caesar had already created. It was in the biology of the man who had commissioned it.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just needs to work as I instructed.” The other responded so flatly though, still unaware of what new knowledge Caesar was now hiding. “Did the news coos come by Punk Hazard yet this morning?” He asked almost conversationally next though.

“No.” Caesar was quick to answer a bit louder then, eager to divert to another subject if even briefly. “Why? Did something happen?”

The snail finally smiled a little there.

“I’m calling because I moved the timetable up again yesterday. At the colosseum in front of everyone actually. I can’t help it I guess. When I want something, I just take it.” Doflamingo answered far more smugly at that.

“Oh?” Caesar was twirling the phone cord between his fingers nervously now. He remembered well the urgency of their last conversation. Because Joker had obviously selected you as his broodmare of choice well before taking this public. 

And why not? 

The sheer vanity of the idea was appealing to Caesar as well. Taking a fiery, desirable woman and riding her into submission until she ultimately bore fruit. It sounded like a good time to him as well.

“It’s an official betrothal then?” Caesar could guess as much then.

The snail smirked again. “Yes, it went well. You should have heard the roaring of that crowd.”

But just when Caesar had started to feel the smallest bit of calm when Doflamingo had begun to further gloat, those words turned sharp again in an instant.

“So I want that serum in my hands by tomorrow night at latest, Caesar. I can’t wait any longer. Can you make that happen for me or not?”

Even when posed as a question, there was only ever one possible answer of course.

“Yes, Joker.”

The drug was already ready by Caesar’s standards. It’d force ovulation regardless of any contraceptive previously in your system. And it’d grant resilience in the fetus to the most common toxins, preventing either accidental or purposeful chemical abortion in at least the timeframe until it could be old enough to survive outside of your body anyway. Also with some other chemicals added to further the thickening of the uterine wall and amniotic sac for a bit more physical protection too.

Forced reproduction is what this plan truly was. But the devil always remained in the details.

Though confident as always in his own work, Caesar had still snuck what should have only been an uneventful peek into Vegapunk’s data from the currently unnamed warlord project as well.

All the warlords’ genomes and lineage factors had already been mapped out by Vegapunk. Made from clandestine samples taken from each warlord at the time of the signing of their government contracts in Mariejois.

So in only a single afternoon, Caesar had scoured through Doflamingo’s file. Just double checking for anything obvious. Any potentially debilitating mutations that could interfere in successful fertilization and healthy fetal development regardless of Caesar’s drug’s limited protections.

The scientist did not want to be blamed for a wild card like that after all.

But there, deep into those genetic markers, he had found something that was indeed a hard stop. Nothing that uncommon he guessed, but the absolute opposite of what this plan needed to be successful.

“Will…you be arriving here to pick up the product yourself then?” Caesar felt like those next words were coming out of his mouth on their own now. 

Joker was exponentially faster in the sky than any ship could hope to be on the water. It’d grant Caesar nearly a whole additional day of lab time if Doflamingo came here himself instead of having the drug shipped to Dressrosa.

It’d also give Caesar a chance to dose the pirate with something complimentary to that formula being given to you. Perhaps Doflamingo’s one breeding fault Caesar had found could be temporarily corrected here as well.

The snail paused. 

“You really need the extra time then…don’t you?” And there was a bit of new incredulousness in that tone that may have made Caesar proud in different circumstances.

Because he had never let Joker down prior to this moment. Thus the other’s natural surprise.

“It will be ready by then. I promise.” Caesar still tried to steady his voice.

He would do whatever he had to, to keep in the good graces of those beautifully deep pockets of course. Even if it meant degrading himself to finally ask for help from the last person he’d ever wish to as soon as this call would end.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Doflamingo’s voice eventually conceded to the new terms.

A rare mercy that further reinforced just how badly the Heavenly Demon must want this to happen with you.

“But no more extensions after this, Caesar.” He warned none the less.

“I understand, Joker. And it will be very good to see you again.” Caesar tried to throw on that additional subservience at the end at least, to finish on a good note so to speak.

Doflamingo did notice that difference in tone too. Because flattery was always appreciated, and a brief hint of flirtation even better. “Heh. I’ll be in a hurry. I can’t leave her alone for long. She just gets into trouble every time I do.”

“She does sound fun.” Caesar mused then, gladly sensing that returning deescalation which came with this bit of parting indulgence. 

“She is. But I’m not sharing this one.” The snail grinned fully then. “So fantasize in private. And don’t miss a deadline with me again, dear Caesar.”

The snail disconnected with a click at that as the scientist was left still recovering, here alone in his lab.

He shivered, this new stress so very real as it ate through him.

Caesar knew what he had to do. It was the only way to fix this in the remaining time window available now.

And Vegapunk would be all the more insufferable after this impromptu request for collaboration he was sure.

But sacrifices had to be made, with Caesar’s own ego included in those losses for just this once.

Because Joker would have what he wanted.

Always.

——————————

This meeting had been scheduled ages before now.

Crocodile’s request for official residency in Alabasta was to either be approved or denied today.

But his initial months of planning that should have had him walking into this room as the vessel of vengeance in the young princess’s tragic ransom attempt gone wrong, had been derailed in a single evening. 

Simply because you had to be in the wrong place at the right time.

Crocodile had always intended for his agents to kill Vivi. And then he would have killed them, dealing false justice and earning the full attention of Alabasta’s people.

King Cobra would then have had no choice, unable to publicly spurn the man who had captured and disposed of his precious daughter’s murderers.

And later, when the timing was fully right, Crocodile would have further pressed into that man’s paternal grief.

After getting all the information he’d need about the ancient weapon from the broken royal, it’d have been far too easy to then stage a suicide for Alabasta’s noble leader.

He’d have sewn the story of a father who just could never overcome the loss of his only child. 

And with the people’s favor by then, and Vivi already gone to leave no Nefertari heir to contend with, Crocodile would have been poised to take over this country in the power vacuum which would have followed.

But no.

Because of you, that little blue haired girl whose corpse should have long been sealed away in the Nefertari tomb was now standing before him and actually smiling instead.

She had apologized profusely to the king for not being able to wait a moment longer to share her news as she’d entered the palace dining area where Crocodile and her father had still been talking business.

The royal family’s guard zoans, Chaka and Pell stayed close, but also were losing their air of professionalism as they tried to look over the girl’s shoulder while she presented that brand new news coo delivery to the table.

“Father! Please, may I call and congratulate her!?” The girl was practically vibrating in this new excitement.

But Crocodile’s teeth were already clenching against his cigar.

Because even from across the table, of course he’d recognized that fucking bird’s high cheek bones and dark glasses on the front page.

Every last bit of his restraint was being tested as the tip of his hook punctured the smallest hole into the tabletop now. Catching there in that new imperfection as his jaw tightened further.

And Nefertari, a literal king, was sitting there all the while, marveling at these images and the hyperbolic words of Morgans’ that accompanied them while he turned through those pages.

“My, it says they have been courting one another for years even. How unusual…a pirate and a marine.” Cobra said aloud with some added incredulousness. But only then seeming to remember his own pirate guest at all. 

The almost sheepish look on the king’s face at that realization silently infuriated Crocodile all the more, before Cobra had the audacity to ask something even worse afterward.

“Besides being the ruler of Dressrosa, Doflamingo is also your colleague though. Are you close with him? Is this a surprise to you as well, Sir Crocodile?”

And it was also in the way that little girl’s bright eyes looked up to Crocodile with such anticipation for more details then. This insanity was beyond what the warlord could take.

Because it now surpassed all natural reason and probability the way that pink demon just kept ruining his life.

“Doflamingo does as he pleases. So I’m not surprised.” Crocodile’s deep voice somehow still managed rather noncommittally. His hand removing his cigar from his mouth then.

A tell they wouldn’t recognize. He was utterly seething. 

Because that fucking, feathered whore could never stop being this ridiculous and over the top in every single thing that he did.

And for what reasoning this time? There was always a play, a scheme, or a manipulation when it came to Doflamingo.

Nothing was ever genuine, nothing ever truly real.

That creature was a narcissist, a sociopath, a nymphomaniac, and any other random assortment of mental conditions he chose from his grab bag of collected neuroses on any given day.

“Father, please may I call her?” Yet Vivi started once more, not dissuaded in the least by Crocodile’s lackluster response.

“Yes, of course. But with Igaram to assist you. A call from you is an official contact from Alabasta and the Nefertari family after all…and this would essentially be us reaching out to the Donquixote royals as well now if you speak directly to her.”

And this realization somehow delighted the girl even further. “Oh…yes, you’re right! She’ll be a queen soon. Maybe we can even go to the next Reverie together!”

Cobra chuckled at this. “It’s certainly possible now, isn’t it?”

The girl wasted no time however, having now received her father’s permission as she hurried back out of the room to no doubt find Igaram and make that call.

Which did remind Crocodile of his own brief interaction with you too of course. When you rather rudely rejected his flowers and their very efficient poison.

But now he knew why Doflamingo had not immediately struck back in retaliation for that.

This public exhibitionism was that idiot’s response.

“My apologies for that interruption, Sir Crocodile.” Cobra had turned his head back to look at him again then once Vivi had left. “My daughter doesn’t have many friends outside of this palace any longer, now that her prior playmates have moved on to Yuba. And after that incident in Scylla, I believe she’s found quite a female role model in that marine captain.”

Cobra glanced at that print one more time and your pictures there with his sentiment, smiling warmly before he closed the newspaper.

“You know…” He started again not long after. “I think times are beginning to change in this world. I have to admit, when you first asked months ago for my public blessing to transition your Rain Dinners casino into a more permanent residence here in our country, it didn’t seem wise to me given your nature of remaining a pirate.”

Crocodile was still holding his cigar between his fingers then, outwardly concealing his full disgust as he did at least listen.

“But, the warlord program has clearly been working well for Dressrosa. By all accounts, they are thriving under your peer Doflamingo. He protects them. And now, I’d say they’re on their way to having a rather selfless queen as well. What she did for us in Scylla, I will never be able to fully repay her for.”

And even Crocodile’s expression shifted slightly there. Because he felt that change coming in Cobra with these next words.

“But I’m going to try to. So yes, I wasn’t going to approve your official residency and citizenship request at first. Even with you being a warlord, I suppose I still had learned misgivings about what powerful pirates can do to weaker targets. Yet, I’ve thought about these prior prejudices so much in the days since our experience in Scylla. And the way that captain has obviously deemed Doflamingo at least, as worthy of a second chance in life.”

Cobra even sighed a little there, taking a brief sip of the still warm tea that his servants had prepared earlier. “And you and I both know she will face some ridicule and shame for this choice regardless, being that her partner is also still a pirate. This wasn’t the only reason for my change of heart, mind you. But, I can’t deny that my desire to help her, especially now, will be a large part of my decision.”

The king smiled again there, but with a seriousness that still showed his understanding of the gravity of what he was conceding. “So I do grant your request to stay in Alabasta, Sir Crocodile. Partly for your agreed protection of our coasts of course, as I realize more than ever, the enemies we still have in this world. But also because I want to show that men even with histories like yours and Doflamingo’s can be offered these mercies later in life if earned. We will stand with Dressrosa in this regard. I will publicly support her choice of allying with a warlord, by doing much the same here in Alabasta.”

Crocodile’s stare was wider then. His breathing had paused.

Nothing was ever supposed to truly surprise him. And his hand returned that cigar to his mouth as he forced a smile.

The fucking audacity of this all still had his blood running so hot. His heart was pounding with hidden rage. But even Crocodile’s pride couldn’t surpass his sheer ambition any longer. He knew goddamn well what this meant for him in the end.

This new way into Nefertari Cobra’s confidence and the secrets of this kingdom now came with the ungodly price tag of warming back up to the Donquixote family.

“A sound decision, your highness.” Crocodile drawled through an exhale of cigar smoke though. “I can certainly protect this kingdom just as well as Dressrosa has been taken care of as you said. But even more so, this feels a bit like providence doesn’t it? Why, with your daughter being saved by such dear friends of mine…”

Vomit would have been far more pleasant to roll out over his tongue than those words.

But Doflamingo could be baited and used in a heartbeat. He’d come here with you in tow without question if invited. Crocodile knew this. Just like the card games at his casino, as soon as one hand had folded, another had been dealt to him.

His false smile remained. “In fact, if you truly wish to put your support for that soon to be Dressrosan queen front and center in the public eye, why not ask her to visit here? An engagement party of sorts? As further reward for her sacrifices to your family of course...”

And now it was Cobra’s turn to look surprised, though not at all unwilling for this new idea. “Oh, Vivi would love that.”

“As would your subjects.” Crocodile agreed.

And he did see Cobra glance briefly back up to Chaka and Pell who were still observing this conversation hesitantly as his bodyguards.

“It has been ages since we’ve had a proper ball…” Cobra mused.

The two zoan users looked at one another, but their king didn’t give them any real chance to respond.

It was clear that this thought had rooted in his mind. “Notify Igaram please. We’ll go over the details together, and I’ll let Vivi offer the official invitation once decided.”

Yet it already was decided, wasn’t it? Crocodile saw that. Just as clearly as he dreaded what a reversal of his own word this would be. He had sworn to never work with that bird again.

But using someone wasn’t the same as working with them. Or even denying the full blown hatred that remained for them, now was it?

Crocodile would still tear through each and every one of you without a second’s hesitation if Pluton could finally be his. And then, all these days in hell would be but a distant memory.

Temporary tortures endured by him for the achievement of his broader goals.

And torture would be the proper word for what would be coming. Because he could envision that freakishly long tongue slipping out from behind those bright white teeth even now.

Doflamingo would be elated. 

And Crocodile only had you to blame.

—————————— 

There’d been another note on the nightstand when you’d woken in Doflamingo’s bed in the morning sun. Just like that time on his ship on the way here from Scylla.

That beautiful handwriting that still seemed so disconnected from the ruthless individual who had penned it now stared up at you once more from clean, white paper. 

The curves and flourishes almost looked like they could move, flowing as your eyes narrowed with your now splitting headache, sitting up alone in the bed to read it.

“Good morning, my drunken wife. Though if you can read this, then congratulations. You’ve rejoined the living.

I doubt you’d be in the mood for more pain medication after the last time. But all you need do is ask and I’ll still provide. There’s no reason for you to suffer needlessly. Unless you just enjoy it of course.

I tasked Baby 5 with watching the door out in my suite for you. No unexpected visitors this time. I had some very time sensitive calls to make however, or else I’d still gladly be tangled up beside you. But I’ll check in on you soon.

Yours,

-D.D.”

You closed your eyes briefly then, trying to focus enough to not want to scream.

The haze of yesterday and last night could have been easily dismissed as only a fever dream.

If not for the reality of the diamond ring still around your finger. The only thing you were wearing actually besides a pained scowl as you opened your eyes again and left the bed. Dehydrated as usual and wishing for any semblance of relief.

Even now, you had the instinct that you weren’t supposed to be exploring Doflamingo’s private chambers without him.

Probably why he’d given you your own room to begin with. A safer holding cell for when he was away, before you and Trebol had immediately destroyed it anyway.

But fuck it. 

You were thirsty and still such a mess from last night as you crossed the bedroom.

And soon enough you found yourself standing alone in Doflamingo’s massive bathroom. With the centuries old mosaics and stonework that conflicted with his far brighter, modern tastes. 

It wasn’t your first time being here. But without him even lurking just beyond the door to wait for you, it felt entirely different.

You did your business, relieving yourself and flushing the toilet before standing again. Your bare feet then met his tacky pink rug as you pressed up against the marble sink. The floral scents of his cologne bottles lined up on the counter only messed with your overtaxed senses further.

You turned on the water, washing your hands with one of his fancy soaps, and rinsing them well before cupping your hands under that stream to bring the cool relief to your face.

And you drank it afterward as well. Because to hell with his weird freakout about this very thing back at the villa. You drank that water several times in fact, refilling the makeshift bowl that was then your cupped hands pressed together.

But as you did turn the water off and straightened back up, you caught your own movement out the corner of your eye.

In that floor to ceiling mirror that was well big enough for even Doflamingo to fully admire himself in the nude.

And you’d seen him do it. One too many lingering glances towards his own image in that reflective glass after showering.

But all you saw now was nothing near as flawless as him as you made that same mistake of also looking for too long. 

Into your tired, pained eyes. And over all the bruises now transitioning through every sequence of unnatural colors, while the trapped blood tried to dissolve for days at a time beneath your skin.

The shape of Doflamingo’s foot sole was still centered prominently over your sternum from that battle in the other bathroom as well. His love bites also along your shoulders and one deep enough to actually have thickly scabbed over on one of your hips.

You weren’t always quick enough with your armament when you were supposed to be experiencing pleasure. He’d kiss and lick you, bringing you nearly to orgasm, and then nail you with a real bite sometimes. 

It furthered his arousal at the complete loss of your own in moments like that.

And you didn’t want to see this anymore. 

Not right now.

You turned and stalked out of the bathroom before that disgust in yourself could fully take hold again. Before you could shatter that mirror and even the ancient stone behind it with your clenched fist.

Your luggage was just set against a wall in his bedroom when you came back to it. Like it didn’t belong here at all as you spitefully dug through it.

You put on your usual underwear, but with sweatpants over them this time. That and an old, long sleeve shirt as a top.

It was throw away shit, only fit for laying alone in a ship’s bunk late at night. But you were purposefully covering everything but your face, feet, and hands with it now.

You didn’t know what your plan even was anymore. You didn’t have one as you cracked open that tall bedroom door to exit into the hallway that led to the rest of the king’s suite.

And even with the warning of Doflamingo’s letter, you’d still paused at seeing Baby 5’s back while she stood silently at the window she’d apparently opened in the main sitting room.

She was staring out, not yet noticing you at all.

You’d considered still making a purposeful sound though. To spare you both the inevitable bad reaction of surprising her. You weren’t in the mood of dealing with that. But then you’d noticed the small cloud which rose up as she exhaled.

And something else still inside of you immediately reacted instead.

You didn’t know why. Because it wasn’t as if she was anyone you could actually help.

You couldn’t even help yourself in this place.

“And just how old are you to be doing that!?” You snapped at her regardless.

The girl made a frightened noise of course, eyes wide as she looked back over her shoulder with that lit cigarette still sticking out from between her lips.

Her hands went together in a begging gesture almost simultaneously too as her whole body then turned to face you in the realization of being caught. “He said you’d still be asleep! Please! Please don’t tell the Young Master!”

And her higher pitched plea was like a knife through your still throbbing head.

But you just couldn’t imagine why Doflamingo would care either. He’d thrown his child soldiers out into battle without hesitation for years. Why would any additional lung damage ever matter?

“What would he care?” You asked along with that thought as you approached. But your displeasure must have still been clear even as she didn’t answer.

One more look at you and she’d tossed that still lit cigarette right out of the open window rather than argue.

But that still wasn’t enough. Not for you. “Give it to me.” Your eyes narrowed at her anyway as you held your hand out tiredly, so close to her then.

“What?” She asked defensively, starting to back away.

“The pack, kid. Because you never answered me. What are you, fifteen?”

“Sixteen.” She looked at you with such indignity there, her defiance trying to return.

“Yeah, no damn difference.” But you saw the top of that small box sticking out of a pocket on the apron you hoped they didn’t make her wear. And you snatched the pack right from her, then and there.

“Hey!” She protested, exacerbating your headache yet again with the shrillness of her upset voice. 

Your head was hurting enough that you made your own choice next. You were already over this hangover pain. You needed to feel, taste, or do something different. Anything.

Baby 5 had paused as you opened the confiscated box just as smoothly and removed a single cigarette from it. 

It’s not like you’d ever said you were entirely fair either.

“Chill out. You owe me one for all your yelling anyway.” You sighed. “So give me a light, and I’ll at least let you keep the lighter.” You told her as you brought that fresh cigarette up to your own lips.

“You smoke?” She asked incredulously.

“No. Well, not cigarettes. Cigars…sometimes. I just-” But you realized that was far too honest for this moment. And you walked that comment back quickly. “No. I don’t smoke. Just light it already.“

It was not at all your desire to remind yourself of Smoker or anyone else right now. Of course he’d taught you how. Of course he’d let you try his, and thought it hot whenever you’d held one cigar between your fingers and the other between your teeth, breathing deeply for him while his own mouth had went to work much farther down your body.

You’d had your fun together. And it had meant something, at least to you. Those memories wouldn’t be erased just because Doflamingo said they should.

Yesterday, he’d told the papers you had no exes.

That it had always been him for as long as you’d been old enough to be with a man. That’s what that new timeframe meant, and you were sure he knew that.

He’d told them you’d been fucking a pirate since you’d even known how to fuck.

Baby 5 still stared at you, but she listened to your command regardless as she got the lighter from her other pocket. Likely just in that habit of her always being told what to do around here. 

You bent down enough for her to light the cigarette as you inhaled slightly to get the burn going.

And you did cough a couple of times, that shitty taste one you probably should have long forgotten when you’d first tried and ultimately rejected these years ago as a chore girl.

Baby 5 watched that too, almost entranced for a moment before your hand suddenly moved and you tossed that nearly full pack of her remaining cigarettes right out of the window as well.

“Ah! Why!?” She yelled again, as if you’d wounded her physically that time. While her gaze followed the tumble of the box and its fall multiple stories down until it was out of sight. 

“Because you don’t need it.” You grumbled, even with the utmost hypocrisy of taking yet another drag as you said so. 

“And neither do you.”

Both you and the girl straightened up then, looking to the open archway that connected back to the rest of the royal suite. 

Doflamingo’s long frame darkened it, slouched in that odd way of his with his hands in his pockets as he surveyed this new scene.

Yes, you were also starting to lose count of just how many times he’d now silently entered his own rooms to catch you off guard.

He must do it on purpose.

“Young Master! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t-” The teen tried.

“Out, Baby 5.” The warlord answered. Oddly calm, but non negotiable to his subordinate all the same.

And she didn’t have to be told twice. She slinked past him immediately, head down and fully submissive as she quickly exited.

Leaving you and Doflamingo then staring at one another with that burning cigarette still between your lips.

Your senses were still jumbled. You couldn’t yet feel his intent. And that worried you.

But it was a somewhat good sign when he did take off his glasses, propping them into his hair as usual when the two of you were alone. Though he still watched you sharply through his good eye.

“You love to test me…don’t you?” He said, straightening his tall posture as he moved closer. 

And you held your ground, even when seeing his focus move critically back to that burning cigarette. “I’m having a rough morning. I just wanted a distraction.” You exhaled as you spoke.

But he was so close already then, bending down to grin at you as he inhaled that smoky exhale of yours right into his own lungs.

“And I hate the smell of your ‘distraction’, love…because it lingers. I’ve told them all so many times. Anywhere else they want, just not in my private rooms.”

Yet you remained still as Doflamingo’s hand exited his pocket to so purposefully come up towards your face. His long fingers ran along your cheek softly, just before he plucked that cigarette right from your unsuspecting mouth in one harsh motion. 

Like yanking a weed out of a garden.

At least that’s what his brief glare seemed to say. That he was correcting you, just before his hungry lips covered where that cigarette had been. 

And you didn’t stop him. He’d even made a wanting noise soon enough, one that sounded fully involuntary with his tongue seeking deeper entrance as you parted your lips for him. 

His legs were bent as he tasted you and the remnants of that smoke, again and again actually.

And when he was done, you heard his harsher breathing just from that bit of intimacy. There was a reluctance in him even then as you saw that needful look briefly flicker through his eyes.

His other hand had now taken yours though while he began to lead you away from the window.

But not before he put that cigarette he’d abruptly taken from you into his own mouth.

“We are not making a habit of this. Do you understand?” He chided you again.

And of course you were staring, watching him smoke for the first time you’d ever seen.

He noticed your bit of awe too.

That taunting air of his resurfaced easily. “What? I’ve tried it all. Everything at least once. And many things several times more.” He didn’t even cough as you had, like he was proving that point. His lungs clearly didn’t care about this fresh assault.

“But like I said…” His lips downturned then as the humor left as quick as it had come. “I’ll never tolerate this specific smell on my things again.”

And you were now one of those “things” to him you were sure. With the further squeezing of his large hand around your smaller one just reiterating this idea, before he took and tossed that last cigarette out of the window as well to walk on with you.

“It actually takes years to fade you know.” He added even more seriously, not looking back at you anymore then.

He was pulling you now.

“Doffy…” It was obvious you didn’t have the will to resist him today. But he was already leading you both back towards the bedroom, which felt fully ridiculous and unwanted for you in this moment

Because he’d had all he wanted last night. You’d been a little drunk doll for hours, positioned this way and that to do whatever he pleased.

And Kizaru had caught you redhanded only to worsen it exponentially.

That pain of true humiliation went through you again as you did force yourself to speak, even when Doflamingo hadn’t acknowledged your prior plea of his name. 

You at least wanted some kind of update on the real status of your life before he’d just toss you on that bed again.

“Did anyone call from the marines yet this morning?” You knew it sounded like begging. Were you demoted? Discharged? Were you being called a traitor? How bad was it?

But he still didn’t look at you. And his voice sounded so odd when it did finally come.

“Your priorities need rearranging, little bird.”

His hand loosened slightly. But just enough for his fingers to move against that engagement ring you’d still never taken off.

You glanced down, feeling him briefly turning that band.

And then the two of you had passed the bed. You were standing before another large door as he pushed it open and pulled you through it. 

You went quiet, confused and surprised again as Doflamingo drug you into his closet without any further explanation.

Of course the simple description of “closet” was not near good enough either. Because it was a whole room of its own. Much bigger than even the one that was still supposedly yours in the other bedroom.

And Doflamingo did finally let go of your hand as he walked to the back of this space. 

He was looking for something while you stayed near the front, staring at the racks of clothing rather helplessly. His coats, suits, shirts, and more in just row after expensive row. 

Some garments were embroidered, some had real gold adornments and other precious stones. Everything was here. All the way from the gaudiest, neon colored capris pants you’d ever seen, to floor length furs and ceremonial uniforms truly befitting a Dressrosan king.

Your head tilted back a little too, then looking up as the glimmer of a literal crown and scepter sitting on a shelf above you caught your eye. They looked carelessly set aside, as if they were as unremarkable as an old pair of shoes to him before you heard him speak again.

“Come here.”

He’d been digging in the back corner, pushing away more of his suits that you’d never seen him wear in order to get to something.

And you had to trek across this  “closet” just to reach him.

But you stood there once you had, already uncomfortable before he shoved something large and black right in front of you. 

Your body reacted as if it were some sort of animal carcass, you taking a reflexive step back when those feathers shook all at once from his movement.

Doflamingo was holding the coat at the level of his waist then, and only had to extend his arms to follow you with it as you tried to move away.

“No. Smell it. And then tell me if you still think I’m full of shit.” He sounded irritated again for a moment there, as if he didn’t want to be holding this either for any longer than he had to be.

Of course the reasoning of this harsh new order made no sense to you at all. You just wanted to tell him to fuck off actually when this new weirdness began.

Yet you still felt like the biggest freak too as you were forced to let those black feathers graze your face anyway when he pressed it even closer instead and you finally inhaled.

It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely there.

“Cigarette smoke.” You confirmed, but still looking at him as if he was being insane again.

As usual.

But Doflamingo scoffed at your expression, just before doing the same to strangely smell that coat as well when he briefly brought it up to his face.

“This raggedy thing is almost six years old.” He said, somewhat quieter then. And he lowered it again after. But was still clutching the coat in one hand, as he watched you intently once more.

His glasses were still perched in his hair. And you saw a different look in that moment, just the slightest warning before he swept that black coat around to hang it over your shoulders. 

You tensed. And it was awkward and heavy, but no real difference to the pink ones he wore every day that you could tell.

But you said nothing in your obvious confusion. You only stood there, uncomfortably silent and waiting for the next touch, the next nonsensical action from him.

Yet Doflamingo was only staring at you for a few more moments, taking this all in like it meant something far different for him. 

Your eyes flitted to his hand, cautious of everything again now as he’d moved it to once more touch your face.

“He’d really hate this.” Doflamingo muttered as he grazed his knuckles softly down your cheek. “He was always so adamant about me letting you go.”

Your head was still aching horribly, surely interfering with your own powers of reasoning. But your heart only began to beat faster as his hand then moved down onto your shoulder next.

He was neatening the feathers there. But some were missing. As if they’d been singed and burnt away actually, you finally realized.

“Marine code zero, one, seven, four, six…” Doflamingo added from nowhere as your breath did stop.

“That’s not my code.” Your mouth and brain shot off reflexively then. All of you were trained to give your marine identification number when captured. To say it over and over if you had to under potential torture, rather than giving anything sensitive away that could hurt your crewmates. “My code is-”

“I know.” Doflamingo’s face was tense. His eyes met yours again.

And that all new dread sank into your chest as he did.

“That was his code. My baby brother…my Corazon.”

Your eyes widened as the full adrenaline began. 

In so many instances already there’d been these strange moments and the offhand comments about his blood family. All dead, all so seemingly triggering to him to ever speak of.

And you weren’t stupid. You were perceptive. But when every day and every night had you always still racing through the gauntlet of your own survival, it never allowed you the time to put any of these pieces together.

So he’d just thrown it right on top of you instead.

A dead man’s coat, now heavy in every meaning of the word as it hung across your already vulnerable frame.

“Rosinante…was a marine?” Your quiet voice both asked and confirmed at once. Because the silence was worse. And you didn’t dare look away from this pirate now.

“Yes.” Doflamingo answered directly that time. His long fingers still moving idly though, now nearer your breast, separating the individual feathers where this garment had evidently been crumpled against other things for years now.

He was actually preening you.

“This is just one of the coats he burned and left behind. I was always wasting money buying him new clothes. He could never take care of anything for long.”

Even with the almost neutral expression on Doflamingo’s face then, you still picked up on that real distaste in his tone. A true danger that made you try to force all of your energy away from your hangover and back to your very limited observation haki now.

You needed to focus.

This was no game anymore.

“I didn’t know.” You said in full honesty.

Doflamingo’s fingers paused too, his eyes moving back to your face with renewed skepticism that would have made a lesser soul cower.

“You really never met him?” He asked so plainly though.

“No.” You told the truth again.

The warlord scowled a bit.

“Well, I always talked to him about you.”

And you knew he saw that hint of surprise on your face again there that you couldn’t hide.

His eyes narrowed a little more in response to it. “You think I lie about everything, don’t you? I was telling the truth when I told the crowd I always wanted you. You had my attention years ago.”

That hand that had been neatening the feathers at your chest now moved all the way down to your hip as Doflamingo abruptly squatted onto his haunches in front of you.

His touch slipped so easily beneath the bottom of your shirt as he began to rub the skin of your waist. 

“I told my brother that you’d be mine. But he was too weak to last long enough to see it.” Doflamingo’s grip tightened a little more, holding you firmly by your waistline now, skin to skin. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, (Y/N)? He hid from me. He lied to me. He hurt me.”

“He was undercover.” You said in something not far above a whisper then. Acknowledging the true scope of what was now being revealed to you.

And Doflamingo’s eyes finally looked bothered. He was watching that growing upset in your own.

“You were there that night he died too. With Tsuru…weren’t you?” Doflamingo asked you. And you felt the warmth of his body as he moved in even closer, still squatted down before you.

“Minion Island? Yes…I was there.” You responded as he leaned his head against you so unexpectedly.

He wanted you to touch him in return as he still held your waist.

And you did reach up, the black coat shifting as your hand moved softly around the back of Doflamingo’s neck.

It took everything in you to keep your hand from trembling.

“He left me no choice.” Doflamingo breathed just as your grip met his skin.

The primal chill that went through to your very bones was linked only to the way his eyes had changed again then. No trace of remorse as he said these words to you.

And Doflamingo simply shifted, wanting you to rub him further.

So you began stroking the back of his neck as you felt his face briefly nuzzle you. Partly against your own clothes, partly against those black feathers of his dead brother as he now chuckled.

A sickening sound.

“He took everything I had left. My heart…my trust.”

But it wasn’t sad or mournful. That tone felt like loathing even as Doflamingo’s hand moved again beneath your shirt, his large palm splaying low onto your abdomen.

“And I want it back.” He reaffirmed.

He thought he was the only victim here.

He thought he was owed whatever he wished to take because of the things he’d already lost.

You felt his fingernails beginning to press soon after. Like a claw digging into you with that renewed show of possession.

His teeth were bared again.

“I want it from you.” His voice was so low then, this demon of a man practically sitting on the floor now as he pushed your shirt further up.

“Give it back to me.”

You felt his lips against your stomach next, just before he whispered once more.

“Bear me my new Corazon.” 

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[aimbutmiss]

Mihawk was surprised when Crocodile came up to him with the idea of Cross Guild, which was surprising in itself, because it took a lot to get such reaction out of the stoic man. Mihawk's initial reaction was to assume Crocodile had finally gone mad after his fall from grace. But it didn't take him long to see the full picture. Buggy's debt and the sheer amount of men who adored him in his crew...he could be used easily and efficiently. But Mihawk didn't care about all that. He wasn't a businessman like Crocodile, he didn't care about money or power like him. But despite this, he still agreed. There were two main reasons why he did so:

1- He was bored. With Zoro and Perona gone, he was left on his own on his dreary island. (No offence to the humandrills, but they weren't exactly good company) At first he was quite happy about his situation, he did value his solidarity after all. However, that bliss didn't last very long. He quickly found his usual routine to be repetitive and dreadful, more and more as the days passed. Losing his warlord status right after triggered a fuse in his mind. He could do anything he wanted (not that the government ever got in the way of him doing as he pleased) but he realised that he didn't know what it was that he wanted. Crocodile's offer reminded him of the offhand conversations he used to have with Shanks at dirty bars, which brings us to the second point:

2- He was very intrigued by Buggy. Shanks babbled a lot after he had a bit too much to drink, more than usual at least. But he would still have some level of awareness no matter how drunk he was, never letting his guard completely down. This was not the case with Mihawk. They were close friends, something even more at some point, so Shanks felt comfortable enough to open the dam holding back his words around him. Mihawk appreciated this, not only because it was a huge show of trust, but also because of how entertaining his stories were. Stories about wars and victories, the Pirate King and Dark King Rayleigh... It was all so intriguing. But everything somehow always circled back around to one man: Buggy. Mihawk had never heard of him before, but if Shanks' words were to go by he must have been truly exceptional. Shanks used to have this lovesick look on his face whenever he talked about his old friend, sometimes even straight up sobbing in front of him. This man, who was on Gold Roger's crew and made Shanks fall head over heels in love, perplexed Mihawk. How could such a man exist, hiding his existence for so long? Oh, how he longed to meet him.

Unfortunately for Mihawk, their first meeting didn't go according to plan. Marineford was a mess. He wasn't very interested in the government's goals, he just wanted to see how far straw hat would go. That boy's potential shone so bright, it didn't surprise him one bit that red hair also saw it. What he didn't expect at all though, was to run into the Buggy from Shanks' stories, who was being used like a human shield by straw hat. So, it didn't phase Mihawk one bit when his sword cut straight through the man but he quickly put himself back together. The blue hair, the red nose, this couldn't possibly be anyone else. Mihawk had a certain image of Buggy in his mind, but that all shattered at one look at this man-baby in front of him. There was no way this was the man Shanks was praising left and right, right? Or perhaps, Shanks' stories were always tinted with rose coloured glasses and very far from the truth. How disappointing. But still, something didn't sit well in Mihawk's mind. There must have been some amount of truth to the words he heard. He wanted to see more, but unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to catch the clown again, with Shanks arriving and all. Yet here it was, two years later, Crocodile was handing him a second chance on a silver platter. He simply couldn't refuse.

And so, he agreed to playing house with Crocodile. It was obvious why the man had reached out to him instead of, literally anyone else. Mihawk was strong. He had a strong hold on the use of haki, which the other man lacked. He could easily protect them while Crocodile ran the business part of things. They would work well together, covering each other's weak points. The more obvious reason though, was the fact that Mihawk happened to be one of the very few people Crocodile got along with. That man had a habit of making enemies of everyone he came across, which was not surprising considering he wasn't very likable. But that never bothered Mihawk, he did like a challenge.

The more he got to know Buggy, the more he hated the man, which was not what he was going for at all. He tried his best to see any good traits in him, but repeatedly failed to do so. The man was like a soggy, wet mop, who cried at any chance. He was way too easy to push around, and Mihawk kept doing it because the damn clown was so annoying. His voice, his mannerisms all got on his nerves. This was it, giving up was the only choice. There was no way this clown had any redeemable quality. Shanks was just more insane than he initially thought, whatever. It was just wasted time, and he wouldn't waste any more of it.

Just as he had decided on his departure from Cross Guild and had mentally prepared himself to clash with Crocodile (which he really didn't want to do, he actually liked the man) fate decided this was not the end. All the stalking he did payed off as slowly, he started seeing the clown in a new light. It was the small things at first. The man clearly cared for his crew, and it was almost sweet. He'd always put aside time to train in acrobatics with Cabaji, and to groom Richie with Mohji. He and Alvida had tea time together, giving the woman her much needed gossip time. He was more silent with his closer confidants, he let them do the talking while he listened. He let Cabaji teach him new moves, to help him out when he struggled. He laughed at Mohji's horrible jokes. And it wasn't that boisterous clown laugh, oh no, it was much more...quiet. Yet somehow more vibrant. It was genuine. He let Alvida paint his nails, and let Richie lick his face even when it got red and irritated. He was usually known for his grand gestures as the "genius jester", but he showed his love much more subtly to his friends. It was almost refreshing to see the difference. Almost like the usual Buggy was a performance, a show. And Mihawk was finally seeing the backstage.

Then, one day, he ran into him in the library. He was in his colourful pyjamas, hair tied into a bun and no clown makeup to cover his face. No makeup. One look into his sea green eyes and Mihawk finally started to understand what Shanks must have been thinking. This man was beautiful. And he was holding one of his favourite books.

"D-do you want me to leave? Because I totally can! I'll be out of here in a jiffy-"

"No need. You may stay."

Mihawk didn't know what came over him, but he walked over to the other man. "I quite enjoyed that one. Which chapter are you on?"

And just like that, their unofficial book club started. Buggy was a lot more clever than he let on. Mihawk quite enjoyed listening to his opinions about the books they read. One day, it stopped just being books. They'd talk about anything and everything. Mihawk hated to admit it, but this was exactly what he was missing on Kuraigana: companionship. He felt comfortable with Buggy, and it felt way too easy to fall into a routine with him. Buggy was knowledgeable on a lot of things. He knew chemistry and physics, spending a lot of time in his workshop working on his bombs. He was also a stellar navigator. Clearly his apprenticeship under Roger hadn't been for nothing like it seemed. And when he spoke of old tales, he wouldn't smile like Shanks did. His eyes were carrying sadness and sorrow Mihawk couldn't comprehend. How fascinating, that the same experiences can bring completely different emotions to different people.

When he wanted to try to see Buggy more from red hair's perspective, his goal wasn't falling in love. But that's exactly what happened. It happened all too quickly. He got back into his farming and cooking hobby, because now he felt he had a reason to settle down on Karai Bari. A lot of his cooking ended up on Buggy's plate. Unintentionally, at first, but it made the clown so happy that Mihawk didn't have it in himself to stop. If anything, he started to spend a lot more time in the kitchen. And the escalation of their relationship wasn't one sided, Buggy had also started feeling more comfortable around him. (Which definitely didn't make Mihawk fill with warmth) He started asking things of him like "Can you brush my hair?" "Can you watch me perform this trick?" and Mihawk found that he was losing his ability to say no at an alarming rate. He was falling for the man. He took that revelation with grace, he wasn't the type to deny his feelings, unlike a certain someone. (Crocodile's denial of his feelings for Buggy is a whole other story that was happening consecutively to all this) And as he watched Buggy polish Yoru with careful hands and focused eyes, he found it all too easy to understand Shanks. No wonder this man had an army of men following him, willing to do anything he said. Buggy the Clown was dangerous, and he just added Mihawk's name to his long list of victims.

Mihawk's mouth curved upwards as he took the shiny sword from a smiling Buggy. He found that just this once, he didn't mind being a victim at all.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Pulling into the lonely gas station, my eyes quickly find what I'm looking for, a pair of blue lights emanating in the darkness. The glow is coming from the gas attendant's skull: clear indication that he's a Moonlight™ employee.

"Good evening, sir," he says with the overly-endearing tone of a gracious host, "How may I be of service tonight?

I don't hide my distaste for the pathetic menial worker, leaning on his mop and waiting for my reply like he's got the best job in the world. He doesn't actually believe that. He doesn't even know what he's saying, let alone doing!

"Just fill her up," I grunt.

"You got it, sir!" he beams, tending to my car with a pep that's out of place for the late hour.

Moonlight™ was the app that revolutionized working culture forever. It allows the user to sign up for a job while they sleep. All they have to do is doze off and some insufferable AI from Moonlight™ will resume control of the body via remote connection. People like it because they get paid work without experiencing all the boring hours and insincere customer interactions. Subsequently, they always get the same unbearably eager personalities stuffed in their bodies. Even without the glowing eyes, their idiotic grins would make them stand out a mile away!

"How has your day been, sir?" he contines mopping as the gas slowly pumps.

"Don't try to chat," I snap.

"Of course, sir," he doesn't miss a beat, smiling as he returns his neon gaze to the sidewalk he's swabbing.

I just roll my eyes and wander inside. The app doesn't record memories while it's in control, so this guy has no idea how humiliated he should feel. No one should have a shit-eating grin on their face working the night shift as a gas station janitor! I'd die before I gave up my dignity to Moonlight™ like this fucking loser!

On the TV behind the register, an ad plays...

The costumed man on the left steps forward and announces, "Join the revolution. There are over forty-two-million Moonlighter's taking advantage of their sleep! That could be you!"

The statistic makes me cringe. It's nearly doubled since the last time I checked...

The man on the far right of the screen happily taps in, adding, "We're constantly expanding our scope, so check with your employer! If your job doesn't already have a Moonlight™ option, then ask your boss to give you one!"

God, they're pressuring people now? Some jobs should not be done by an AI puppeteered Moonlighter...

Finally, the man in the center steps forward to deliver his lines, "Remember, Moonlighting is a safe and healthy way to not only make money but also get a good night's rest! Why work all day, when you can do it in your sleep!" his head turns, making it seem like he's smiling at either of his coworkers, "After all, we are!"

The three men laugh in unison, like true colleagues chumming up at work, but I know the truth. These three are worse than actors, they're empty marionettes for the Moonlight™ corporation. I doubt they'd ever even met each other in real life...

"Shut up!" I groan, smashing the power button to turn it off.

This world is going to shit. Moonlight™ has grown too large over the past year for there not to be some conspiracy or ulterior motive. I don't know what it is: the elite keeping the working class in their place, our government influencing our decisions, a foreign country converting us into their slaves! It all sounds crazy, but I don't think a single theory is impossible with an app like Moonlight™.

I'm the only one probing into this mess. I may have only worked as a detective for a few years, but I never did any of it fucking asleep!

A few days later, I track down my first lead...

"Good morning, sir," the garbage man says in that unnaturally smooth cadence they all have, "Is there any trash you need collected?"

"I just have some questions," I snort.

One hand pulls the hem of my shirt over my nose while the other swats at the flies. These garbage trucks are absolutely filthy. I doubt the garbage companies even bother washing them out anymore, but why should they if their workers are soulless husks without the ability to care? The man in front of me seems completely oblivious to the mixture of rotting smells and accompanying bugs. His glowing eyes don't even blink as a fly lands on his face, crawling through the hairs of his beard. He's probably lucky that he goes home with no memory of this downright awful job.

"Are you looking for employment with Moonlight™ incorporated?" his smiling lips stir the bug on his face, but it quickly buzzes into the moist retreat of the man's dark armpit, "I'd love to help you install the app and-"

"No," I cut, "Just open the truck. I accidentally threw out something I shouldn't have."

I study the man's frozen grin for anything. It's a test. The Moonlight™ AI is designed to accept demands from free-willed customers, but I have a suspicion that the building nearby is an undocumented base for the company. If I'm right, the company would hate for anyone to root through the garbage of their secret lab...

"...I apologize, sir, but the garbage has already been compacted, and it is unsafe for non-employees to look inside. Please let me know what it is you are looking for and I will search for you."

His artificial glee didn't wane, but the blue light in his eyes did flicker just barely. This guy might be asleep, walked around by remote AI tech, but I could still tell he was lying. I'd like to see one of the Moonlight™ detectives figure that out. As I said, some things are better done the old-fashioned way...

"Well, thanks anyway," I snark, planting a slap on his sweat-soaked back. He says something about it being his pleasure as he resumes handling the garbage, flies eternally buzzing around his smiling head and glowing eyes.

Continuing my investigation, I pop down in the sewer, looking for an underground entrance to Moonlight™'s secret lab...

"Are you lost, sir? Let me help you."

I've had to breathe through a mask to put up with the heavy cloud of steaming sewage, but the Moonlight™ septic worker seems fine, smiling with an open mouth, specks of God-knows-what dried on his teeth.

"No, I'm where I should be," I dismiss him and march past.

Suddenly a muddy glove sticks out and holds my chest. "I'm afraid you cannot pass, sir," his smile is as strong as ever, but the trademark glow of his eyes intensifies.

I've never felt more sure about my suspicions. This mind controlled worker seems ready to fight rather than let me pass. I wonder if this poor soul knows he's being used as a guard as well as being a Moonlight™ sewage worker.

"Why don't you show me the way out then," I relent.

"Of course, sir," his hand removes itself from my chest, leaving a dirty print, "The sewer is a dangerous place for civilians."

I follow as he marches me out of the sewer. It's better to leave and come back later with a plan. Today, I confirmed my suspicions, but tomorrow, I'll finally see what secrets they're cooking up in that lab. I return home and end the day with the satisfaction of being close to a major discovery. Sleep finds me quickly...

Waking up in my bed, I check my phone and find an unsettling message waiting for me...

"Congratulations on finishing your first shift with Moonlight™!" the text reads, "Here is a photo of you hard at work last night!"

"What the FUCK!"

I jump out of bed, but instantly everything feels off. My back aches and my legs are more tired than they were last night! My pajamas are uncomfortable, pinching in areas like someone else dressed me in them! My mind is racing with confusion, and an overwhelming sense of self-consciousness rushes over me. My face burns from the violation, but most of my fear is focused on the strange feeling lingering in the back of my private area.

"What did they do to me?" I try to be pissed, but all I can do is whimper.

Suddenly my phone rings...

"Hello," I growl.

"Good morning, sir," a familiarly gracious man's voice rolls through the call.

"Tell me who the fuck this is!"

"Someone who noticed you snooping the other day, sir," his voice sounds like it's smiling.

Suddenly it clicks. Whoever's calling me from Moonlight™ would never use their own phone and voice. They must be using some poor schmuck that thinks he's working an honest job right now. How am I ever supposed to find who's behind all these layers of lies?

"You can hind behind your brainless puppets," I sneer, "But I will not stop looking into this fucked up company!"

"But now you're one of our puppets, sir. I'm not sure how much credibility a detective has if he spends his nights working the room at the dirtiest club in town..."

"That's sick..." I whisper, thinking about the picture on my phone. The idea of me gleefully stripping for a room of disgusting old men makes me shiver.

"Good luck with your investigation, sir," the voice continues, "But just understand that every time you sleep, your body will get up and report to that club. I have to admit that you're hiding a rather tight body under that trench coat of yours."

"You were there?" I mutter.

"Oh I had to meet the man poking his nose where it didn't belong, sir. I got very familiar with you. You were very friendly last night, so I poked something of mine where it didn't belong."

The voice on the other line laughs, and all I feel is utter humiliation. I hang up the call and stare at the photo he'd sent. It was me alright, smiling like a maniac in the gayest outfit I've ever seen. I didn't like my body being dressed like that. I hate that I was happily busting my ass for the enemy. He had to have been getting off at my humiliation last night. I'm sure he relished every second of what he did to me. I don't even want to think about the sensation left in my ass.

I need to push this investigation faster.

Because tonight, when I go to sleep, I'll be helpless to prevent this from happening again.

[rpgsandbox]

Magpie Games is excited to bring you Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game, the officially licensed tabletop roleplaying game set in the world you know from Sunless Sea,Sunless Skies, Mask of the Rose and the original Fallen London browser game from Failbetter Games! With over a decade of roleplaying design and publishing expertise, Magpie Games has created an innovative system that brings the Neath to life in a tabletop roleplaying game.

Fallen London: The RPG includes setting information seeded with plot hooks for your game, numerous character types representing the variety of Londoners fans love from the browser and video games, a full set of conflicts and dynamic systems for departing on ventures across London, a sample venture to get you started on your journey, and much more. Delve into the Neath like never before in an immersive roleplaying experience that gives you the chance to change all of London…though the cost might be far greater than you ever imagined.

London, 1899. Forty years ago, the city fell into a vast cavern beneath the Earth. Now Hell is close, immortality is cheap, and the Traitor Empress Victoria still reigns.

Devils and betentacled people walk the streets. The cloaked and mysterious Masters control the city’s commerce from a towering building covered in words of fire. Death, for most, has become more of an inconvenience than a finality. All the old rules that once bound the world have become flexible. 

That’s an opportunity for someone like you. You crave something more than most think is possible. If it’s fame, then you want your name to live in the mind of everyone in London, forever. If it’s power, then you want the world itself to bend to your will. You want to destroy Death itself, or open the gates to the abode of the stars, or to restore London back to the surface. You want something so far out of reach, you have to change the rules or break them entirely just to have a chance at getting it.

You’re not going to be able to do all of that on your own. So you found others to share in your ambition. Together, you might be able to do the impossible. You might be able to fill the burning holes inside of you. Even if you have to burn everything else to do it.

Your concern is assembled and you are ready to act. What will become of London now? Time to find out.

The setting of Fallen London is rich and well-developed, with countless stories hiding in its deepest corners. Here’s a rundown of what you need to know:

Victorian London is now located in a gigantic cavern, overarchingly called the Neath. To the east, the docks now lie on a brackish subterranean sea known as the Unterzee. There are other places and nations throughout the Neath – the seventy-seven kingdoms of the Presbyterate on the Elder Continent far to the south; the maritime state of the Khanate over the Zee; and to the west, Hell itself. Suffice to say, London is not alone.

There are many inconsistencies in the basic laws of reality in the Neath. Time and causality don’t always operate as expected, and geography can change without warning. The most well-known of these changes is to do with mortality: Death is no longer permanent for most humans. If they die, they will return to life after some time.

Many, many different kinds of people have become common in London. Rubbery Men with tentacled bodies and squid-shaped heads; Rattus Faber, intelligent and mechanically proficient rodents; Clay Men, folk of living stoneware; and even Devils, pleasantly engaging in the commerce of souls.

The city still maintains many of the old apparatuses of government, including Parliament, the Constables, and the Ministry of Public Decency. In truth, however, London is ruled by the Masters of the Bazaar – large hooded figures, each of whom claims domain over a different aspect of trade. All commerce must pass through the Bazaar now, and therefore is only legal under the auspices of the Masters.

London is sometimes called the Fifth City, even by those who don’t really know why. There was something in the Neath when London fell upon it – the Fourth City – and if London is the Fifth City…could a Sixth still be coming?

Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game is a brand new way to experience the setting of Fallen London. Create your own characters and play together, telling your own inventive stories of London in the Neath! The tabletop roleplaying game supports approximately 3-6 players, with one taking on the role of a gamemaster responsible for portraying the world and adjudicating the rules, and the rest taking on the role of their own individual character. The game is designed for ongoing stories, as the characters pursue their goals and face the consequences of their choices. 

In the TTRPG, each player creates their own character, together assembling a concern – a single group devoted to a grand ambition. Grand ambitions are the giant overarching goals of the concern, the kind of goal that no one of them could ever achieve entirely on their own. But while grand ambitions are grand, they are rarely good; the members of a concern are obsessed with achieving their ambitions for their own reasons. They might be trying to create a permanent door into the world of dreams, or they might be trying to travel to some hypothetical future. They might be trying to unseat the Masters, or they might be trying to become Masters themselves. Whatever they hope to achieve, it is a grand, difficult task, and they won’t be able to get there on their own.

The characters of a concern don’t have to be particularly friendly with one another; in point of fact, they often wind up as rivals with significant disagreements between them. But they all agree that the grand ambition of the concern is worth sacrificing nearly anything to achieve, and to that end they agree to work together.

They also have help from another source – the principal of the concern. This is a figure of some importance, a character with power and resources capable of supporting the concern in their pursuit of their grand ambition. The principal is a non-player character – an NPC – with the largest share of ownership in the concern. They don’t participate in the day-to-day operations of the concern, seeing as they’re far too busy for that. They might show up to make some demands at inopportune moments. But the other members of the concern need the principal. They need the principal’s money, or influence, or reputation, or knowledge…otherwise, they don’t stand much of a chance. 

A concern can be anything from an artists’ collective to a Surface – goods importation consortium to a gang of scoundrels and thieves. So long as the group is all committed to the grand ambition for their own reasons, and they have their principal, then they have everything they need to take on the Neath.

Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game allows the concern to make its own choices about how to pursue its grand ambition. In particular, a concern always has a pool of opportunities and leads to work with. Opportunities represent clear, certain ways to get something the concern wants. An Infernal Smuggler is willing to sell the players a map of the old sewer tunnels buried beneath Spite – if the players will part with a crate of high-quality souls for the privilege. That’s an opportunity; the Smuggler isn’t lying about the offer! Give them the souls, and they will sell! 

Leads represent facts about the world that the concern can capitalise on for resources and advantages… especially to fulfill their opportunities. Knowing that there’s a valuable shipment of jarred souls Hellbound from London might be a perfect lead to get the supply the concern needs for the merchant!

The concern as a whole debates and discusses what it wants to do, ultimately combining an opportunity and a lead to go forth on a venture – an attempt to capitalise on the lead, and to fulfill the opportunity! When the concern hatches their plan to raid the soul shipment and sell the stolen souls to the merchant for the map, they’re undertaking a venture, and now they have to deal with all the troubles of their intended thievery!

Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game keeps the supply of leads and opportunities churning to ensure players always have lots of different options and ways to pursue their goals, while also reflecting how London isn’t static; if they take too long, some opportunities and leads will fall away!

Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game uses the Ædana System, a new game system built upon many lessons the team at Magpie Games have learned over the past decade of game design. Ædana is built for flexibility, with a simple central dice mechanism alongside more complex and intricate conflict systems to flesh out exciting moments.

You can read a lot more about the specifics of the system and how to run it in our Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game quickstart, here!

At heart, Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game uses challenge rolls to resolve moments of uncertainty and tension. A challenge roll has a player pick up a bunch of six-sided dice:

Dice for an appropriate attribute, usually between 0 and 4

A skill die, if you have a Trained or better applicable skill

A die for an asset (resources or equipment), if you have something useful to the situation

A die for good circumstances that give you an advantage 

Here’s an example of what assembling a challenge roll looks like:

Flossie, a PC and a revolutionary proponent of rattish rights, is due to give a speech at an assembly for the advancement of rattus faber interests in London. She’s hoping to unite the crowd and draw them together…in part, to act as a distraction that keeps the constables’ attention away from their Concord Square headquarters, so the other members of Flossie’s concern can sneak in! 

For the speech, Flossie’s player, Francis, turns to Flossie’s Persuasive attribute – just a 1, so Francis only takes 1 die. Then, she looks to Flossie’s skills. Expression is the skill for rallying and affecting large groups of people through art or speech, and fortunately Flossie’s Expression is Trained, giving her one more die. The situation is notably tilted in his favor; Flossie and her concern put in a lot of work to get all these rats to show up for a speech, and though the crowd is small in stature, they are predisposed to raucous behavior. The GM tells Francis that Flossie has favorable circumstances, and so Francis takes a third die. Flossie’s not really using any particular resource or piece of equipment to give her a leg up right now, though, so she doesn’t receive an extra die for that. 

Francis picks up the pool of three dice and rolls!

On any challenge roll, you’re looking for 5’s and 6’s, called hits. 

No hits, and you get a defeat: The GM says what happens, and it won’t be good.

One hit, and you get an unstable result: you can make it a success, but only if you pay a cost or face a complication. Otherwise, it's a defeat. 

Two hits, and you get a success: you get what you wanted in full!

Three or more hits, and you get a triumphant success: you get what you wanted and then some!

There’s more to explore in terms of the different advantages skills can give you, different kinds of resources and equipment you can pull from, and special abilities you might have that give you some edge…but on the whole, that’s it! 

Well, except for one little piece of your Fallen London PCs…

Every PC in Fallen London is obsessed with at least one thing: the grand ambition of the concern. But most of them have a few more obsessions that drive them to act, even when they shouldn’t. During play, your obsessions can help give you a boost when the dice don’t go your way, giving you a chance to turn a defeat into a success when you overcommit…but at the risk of worsening your obsession, deepening it further. If your obsession grows too big, then that’s it: your PC becomes unmoored, unconnected to their life and the people around them, consumed by their need. They become an NPC, and a dangerous one at that.

You can read more about obsessions in the Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game quickstart!

The Ædana System uses conflicts to expand particularly intense moments of uncertainty. Conflicts play out a bit like minigames, with their own procedures designed to reflect the particulars of that scene. The quickstart includes conflicts for Investigation and Chases, but the core game will have many more conflicts!

Conflicts are designed to give game groups new options for surprising play, without making demands. Any moment that a conflict comes up could probably be resolved by a few simple challenge rolls instead! But a conflict really focuses and creates tension while producing surprising and deep results. A conflict can take your narrative in a direction you’d never expected!

Be sure to check out the conflicts in the Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game quickstart!

When you sit down to start playing Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game, first you fill in some details of your concern as a group. You pick what you want your grand ambition to be, and the kind of concern you want to play, as well as your principal. Every PC has to be obsessed with the grand ambition, and they all have to be members of the concern, so it helps to know those pieces at the start!

Then, you go to work creating your PCs based on that starting information. Each PC is built by picking one option from six different categories: 

Nature: What kind of person are you? A human? A Rattus Faber? A Rubbery Man? 

Origin: What part of London or its environs do you hail from? Veilgarden? Spite? A tomb colony like Venderbight?

Profession: What skillset do you ply for your well-being? Are you a poet? An artisan? A detective? A killer? A mushroom tender?

Disposition: What is your approach to the world around you? Are you jovial? Cynical? Intense? Generous? Reserved? 

Association: With whom do you spend your time? Bohemians? The Constabulary? Urchins? A criminal sort? 

Twist: What in particular makes you stand out? Do you have an inappropriate pet? Have you lost your memories? Is there a tattoo in a certain fiery language inked upon your body? 

Each option changes your character a bit. Perhaps it gives you some skills; perhaps you gain some resources or equipment; perhaps it provides an ability or a trait that tweak the rules for you. After you’ve made your choices, you have your own unique Londoner, ready to venture forth!

Character Attributes

Skills

There are 12 base skills, ranging from Coercion to get your way through intimidation and force, to Expression to produce works of art or give speeches, to Occlusion for hiding your person and your intentions, to Scrutiny for closely examining things you can get your hands on. You can find more about the skills in the  Fallen London: The Roleplaying Game quickstart!

Menaces

As PCs suffer consequences, their Menaces rise. When a Menace rises too high, they’re going to have to face some serious trouble, likely forcing the concern to stop acting for a while and costing them opportunities and leads!

The menaces include:

Nightmares: the growing strain upon the mind

Scandal: the growing judgment of wider society

Suspicion: the growing attention and mistrust of the law

Wounds: the growing pain and damage upon the body

Obsessions

Every PC has a few obsessions with a rating between 1 and 8. The higher the rating, the more dice the obsession can provide when the PC gives into it…but if an obsession reaches 8, then the PC loses touch with themself and becomes a threat!

Kickstarter campaign ends: Thu, March 13 2025 8:00 PM UTC +00:00

Website: [Magpie Games] [facebook] [instagram] [twitter]

[blvdheart]

life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

⇢ getting all bruised up and battered with minimum medical aid from the government is brutal. leon doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped, though. after months of hiding these moments of vulnerability from you, he lets finally lets you in, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t turn him away

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, leon’s alcohol dependency and low self-worth, religious guilt, attempts to hide depression, brief description of wounds, angst, comfort and reassurance, patching him up, small snippet with chris, 3.2k wc

note: i promise there’s more to me than just writing ooc smut for him 😞 i rewatched vendetta and omg i want to hug him so bad. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i’m not sure if the small font is too straining on the eyes, if it is, lmk!! i’ll change it back to the regular sized one. if you see typos, no you didn’t

divider below is by @/cafekitsune!!

just how many confessionals and assigned prayers would it take for leon to be forgiven for all his wrong doings? probably more than he could keep track of. then again, he hasn’t clasped his hands together and recited a muttered chant for redemption in ages. the belief in a savior dissipated alongside his naive outlook in life once upon a time.

he had laid on a cold hard mattress for hours in the infirmary made specifically for DSO agents. the nurses didn’t give him much care, though. he was patched up, prescribed some pain killers, and sent home. the recovery period was over a month long, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be granted that much rest before he had to be back in action.

two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. he’s dealt with those same conditions time and time again, but it never got any easier, especially as he got older. he was busy basking in his misery, longing for only two things: the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

he tried to keep this part of him hidden, he was ashamed. he had already opened up to you about his job, and how he would be away for long periods. what he didn’t tell you was that those said long periods usually included his recovery, so you didn’t have to see him all broken and battered. he usually kept all the lights in his house off even when the evening approached, so you wouldn’t know he was back in town if you happened to drive by his place.

the two of you had gotten together a year and a half ago, and he used to be more…stable. he feared you’d up and leave him if you found out how bad it had gotten for him.

but the thing is, he knew you would take care of him. your love for him was unconditional, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or to feel sorry for you. after all, he was known to have occasional outbursts of irritation, being on edge from all his baggage and his frequent doses of hard liquor. but he wasn’t a bad man, he just needed some TLC.

he could nurse his good ol’ mind numbing beverages stored coldly in his fridge all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him feel any better. in fact, his self-hatred only grew once he found himself depending on alcohol. in his head, he chose to rely on a drink to feel a buzz. in reality, that was far from the truth. a man like him was drowning in the depths of his baggage. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and alcohol didn’t mesh well.

it was you who kept him sane, really.

you were the skin-kissing sun after a harsh thunderstorm, like a balm to his traumatized and guilt ridden soul. you saw him for who he was, the selfless and love-yearning man he had always been, not a grouchy killing-machine like some people started to view him as of late.

even when he was overseas, your love always managed to reach him.

it was those heartfelt text messages and voicemails he often received that made him tread through his missions carefully, he knew there was someone back home worth living for.

voicemails:

“hi leon! i know you said you might not have internet connection over there or that your phone might break but…um…i dunno, there’s a chance you’ll hear this, so might as well, right? i really miss you. i was procrastinating during my job the other day, yeah boo me…but i made a list of some movies we can watch when you’re back in town. maybe you can come over and we can cuddle on my couch all night, hehe. anyway, i hope you’re okay. i really don’t want you to get hurt or anything. call me when you fly back in?”

“oh shit, is this voicemail? [incoherent mumbling] uh, okay yeah. hi leon, i’m at rite aid right now. i don’t wanna sound nosy but i saw some of the bloodied medical tape you left in my trash and…and i just got worried and wondered if you needed anything? maybe you didn’t want to concern me but, tell me next time okay? let’s see…there’s a lot of different brands, i dont know which one you’d like. call me back ASAP, i’m gonna stay here for a bit longer just in case you do. bye, i love you!”

“okay i figured you wouldn’t pick up. i know it’s like four am but i just woke up and my dream was about us! it went like…like…oh shit. i think i forgot already, bummer!” silence, and some hums. “i literally just had the dream like five seconds ago and i can’t remember it anymore. i’m pissed! anyway, see you tomorrow? or today, technically. bye!”

messages:

found this meme and it reminded me of you…wait do you even know what a meme is? ha, loser

here’s the link to the letterboxd website i told you about earlier!

come overrrr, i’m off work at 8 today. unless my asshole of a coworker shows up late again, ugh

you left your jacket at my house, it’s mine now!!!

not sure if you fell asleep already but please text me back when you can and when you’re sober. ik we just had an argument but we should talk it over, i want everything to be okay between us, i love you. you’re not mad at me are you??

replaying those sweet voicemails was like a remedy, providing such raw tenderness that nothing else in the universe could. you were the epitome of an angel walking the earth, keeping him from falling into the pits of hell by visiting his dreams whenever fell asleep all splayed out on his floor with an empty bottle by his side. it should be you snuggled against him instead, on a bed.

while you gave leon all your sweet love, there were other people working behind the scenes, dishing out some tough love to leon. like chris, who had hit rock bottom once and didn’t want leon to fall prey to the same thing.

“and how about your girl? you really think she’ll want to deal with you being like this all the time?” chris asked, his voice more agitated than mad. he wasn’t angry, just worried and wanting to push the truth into leon’s head. he had found leon sitting on his ass with a drink too many times to be considered a brief stress relief.

“leave her outta this.” leon scoffed, turning off his phone (he had been staring at his wallpaper that was a picture of you.) “i don’t let her see this side of me.”

“side? leon, it’s not just a side. it’ll consume you whole. what happens when it becomes your whole life, huh? what happens when you start disappearing all the time?”

“get off my ass, chris.” leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to not lash out. “i came here for some peace and quiet, not for you to nag at me like you’re my mother.”

“i’m not trying to–” chris cut himself off, unsure of how to get across to leon. leon was absolutely miserable, the only time chris saw some hope in his eyes was whenever he soberly rambled about you. “i’m just saying that you’ve got a good thing going for you, and i don’t want you to ruin it by not trying to get better.”

silence, so chris spoke up again. “she cares about you. so try to care about yourself too, okay? i’ve been there, i see myself in you. i know it’s not your fault that you’ve turned to alcohol. but, let her in, let her help.”

leon looked down at his glass, watching his own reflection, some guilt burning in his gut. he hung his head a bit, looking like a kitten that had just gotten in trouble. he knew chris was right.

maybe this once, he could break the cycle of hiding and cowering. his throat felt dry as he reached for his phone, wincing a bit at the shock of pain the movement caused.

his fingers struggled to tap his cracked screen, the brightness of it making his nose scrunch and eyes squint. eventually, he found the phone app, you were at the top of his list, and he dialed.

…

“leon!! hi, hold on, lemme turn my TV off, i was watching a podcast.” and surely enough, he could hear the background noise lower until it was gone completely and your heavenly voice was filling his ears again. “okay, done. i can’t believe you’re calling, i’ve been waiting all week! how are you? not hurt or anything, i hope? need me to pick you up from the airport or?”

his lips twitched, threatening to turn into a small smile at your bombardment of questions. but he bit it back, feeling undeserving of such happiness. your voice overpowered the weak buzzing of his fan and the wind that rusted outside.

“uh, no.” his voice sounded hoarse, so he tried to clear it. “i’m actually at home, was wondering if you could come over? i…kind of need some help. only if you can, i don’t want to bother you.”

the silence that lingered made him feel tense, his heart pumping so loud that the noise reached his ears. then he heard some shuffling over the phone, as well as some keys jingling.

“be there in fifteen.”

it was just like you to drop everything to help someone else, no questions asked (at least not yet.) god, he loved you.

his world had felt muted before you, devoid of any color and saturation. but every time you he thought of you, suddenly colors were blooming as if he was a blank canvas and your paintbrush strokes were bringing him to life and giving him a purpose.

waiting fifteen minutes felt like an hour, maybe because he was counting down the time on his fucked up lock screen. the numbers looked wonky, he could barely make them out. his watch was broken too, no luck there. having no concept of time, even for a moment, felt weird.

he eventually heard his front door lock twisting. he had given you a spare key just in case, he trusted that you would never snoop through his things or take advantage of that privilege.

“um, hello? leon?” you sounded worried.

“god, it’s dark in here…” you then mumbled, splaying your hand against the wall and searching for his light switch. a couple seconds later and bingo, the sudden bright light left you disoriented for a while.

“i’m on the couch. just…don’t say anything, please?”

your brows furrowed at his request, and you rushed on over, your shoes thudding against his wooden floor. surely enough, there he was, laying on his back with agony written on his features. he had his leather jacket off, his arms having nips and tears all over. small ones, at least, but still collectively all painful.

“oh leon…” a worried mutter fell from your lips, and you kneeled down, the harshness of the hard cold floor not even registering because you were too engrossed in him.

you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not when he was the one suffering. but the pain you felt in your chest for seeing your sweetheart look so defeated just had you getting a bit teary. leaning forward, you planted a kiss on his forehead, your hand raising to stroke the crown of his head. his hair was a bit knotted.

he leaned into your touch like a puppy, letting out a pleased sigh. your affection felt like a gift in a bow after the way he had been slammed around by infected enemies earlier.

“what happened? i—“ okay, he said no questions. you could save the context seeking ones for later, but you did have to know what was wrong. “where are you hurt?”

he didn’t dare look into your eyes, knowing that it would break him. he was looking down further at your neck though, so his gaze was at least on you.

“everywhere.” he managed to croak out with a dry chuckle. um, not helping. “if we’re talking specifics though, the doc told me i broke two ribs on my left side. i also dislocated my left shoulder, they put it back into place but um…y’know, it still hurts like hell.”

after taking a breath to compose yourself, you nodded and stood up. “okay. do you have an ice pack?”

leon nodded. “in my freezer.”

you went off to fetch it, also taking one of leon’s small kitchen towels and wrapping it around the ice pack before placing it onto the coffee table. then, you went to his bedroom, getting two of his pillows and the first aid kit in his bedside drawer.

his eyes lit up when you returned. you were so nurturing it made him want to sob into your arms. but he’d open up to you one step at a time, one day at a time.

“can you…can you try sitting up just a bit? you’re supposed to be a bit propped up.”

well, that wasn’t the worst he’s had to do with a broken rib. he could manage. with a grunt of pain, leon slowly propped himself up, giving you some time to slide the two pillows in.

“there we go.” with a small smile, you couldn’t resist but place another kiss against his forehead. it made him feel good, it was like all your gestures were doses of ibuprofen.

the coldness of the icepack had seeped into the towel. and you gently applied it to his left side, your eyes lifting to meet his face to watch for any indicators you might be hurting him.

“down or up?” you asked him, moving the ice pack up further. he hadn’t told you which ribs had been broken, after all.

“down, please.”

you hummed, moving it back down and letting it rest there.

“how do you know so much about this?” he asked. sure, an icepack was probably a no brainer but you seemed so sure of yourself by making him sit up more.

“google works wonders.” you shrugged alongside your answer. “i just figured some knowledge on the most common injuries would be good for me to learn since your job is pretty dangerous. call me psychic but i saw this in my future.”

some brief moments of quietness washed over afterwards, making him feel unsettled. were you angry because he had often kept his bedridden moments from you? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m sorry.” his apology hung in the room, every one of his nerves feeling on edge.

but it was your warm and gentle touch on his face that had him crawling out of his low self-worth and into reality. a reality where someone loved and cherished all parts of him from his darkest to brightest days. you.

“what are you sorry for?” your question was spoken through a whispered tone of voice. “you’re out here risking your life and saving people whose names you don’t even know, yet you’re apologizing?”

you kneeled down again so you could be closer to him, stroking the side of his face with your knuckles. “i wish you had told me, but i think i can understand why you didn’t. i don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me. you know i’m here for you.”

“i…i know.” he didn’t doubt how much you cared for him, but it was hard to feel like he deserved someone as great as you. what did he have to offer?

“c’mon, look at me.” you pleaded, having taken note of the way his pretty blue eyes hadn’t met yours even once.

he blinked, his eyes darting around a bit. he bit his bottom lip nervously before releasing it. it was only when he felt your hand slide down to hold his that he finally mustered the courage looked into your eyes.

he looked broken, but willing. a small glimmer in his eyes that begged for devotion and comfort, for his angel to continue guiding him even when he lost his path. to not be cast aside like he was replaceable. he couldn’t leave his job or the hell that was his life even if he wanted to, but you made life worth living.

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “i love you, leon. through sickness and health.”

you couldn’t suppress the desire to kiss him yet again, this time scattering them all over his face. your affection brought a surge of joy over him.

the wedding vow reference made him crack a grin. he chuckled a bit even though it caused his injured body discomfort. “i love you too.”

“did you think i wouldn’t help you?”

while you asked the question, your eyes skimmed over his body. his clothes were nipped at, the tears revealing some patches of his skin that had dried up blood or that were bruised. geez. you just wanted to cling to him, but you knew that would only strain him.

“i knew you would.” he began, watching as you stood up and disappeared back into the kitchen. he could hear the sink running. “i didn’t want you to spend your time looking after me, you have your own life to live. you shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

you came back with a wet towel, using it to clean up the dirt and blood on his arms, making sure to be gentle.

“babysit you? that’s not what it’s called, leon. i’m taking care of you, is all. i know you’d do the same and be even more stubborn about it.”

his eyes were trained on you, appreciating the concentration you held while cleaning him up. like a feather, your nimble fingers only left fleeting sensations against his skin. so delicately and tenderly, you treated him.

“yeah, i probably would. thank you.”

“don’t mention it.”

you spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting all his open injuries and putting gauzes over them, making some conversation but keeping it light since you needed to focus. there was more of a sparkle in his eyes than before, you had patched him up both physically and emotionally.

“how’re you feeling?”

“better. can’t say i’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, though.”

“you need lots of rest to recover. you should sleep.”

and he was fucking tired, having stayed up all day. his body had been on fight-or-flight mode so many times that it had exhausted all his emergency energy. and initially he was sure his injuries wouldn’t let him rest, but you were here now, watching over him.

“yeah, i should.” he agreed with you. “will you…will you be here when i wake up?”

okay. you felt warm inside, he was opening up to you, allowing you to stay by his weakened side. “of course. and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and um, you get the point.”

you lifted a hand to rub at his temples, alleviating the headache he had. leon groaned contentedly, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shut. he could feel some drowsiness kicking in already.

“i could get used to this.”

“mhm, just go to sleep.” you voice was getting quieter and quieter in his mind, when’s the last time he fell asleep this quickly? maybe when he was 20. last time he had a broken rib, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

maybe life was constantly testing him, disrupting his peace at every turn, seeping into all the crooks and nannies. but he found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, the one who reminded him of how valuable his life and accomplishments were.

yeah, he could see his future, alright. one where he only picked up a bottle of beer during celebrations, one where he could be tangled up with you and be doted on without feeling guilt.

and it was sooner than later that those thoughts would be fulfilled.

[lune-moon-nuit]

Thoughts about Mike I had last week while watching the middle of season 4

While watching Season 4 last week (yes, I’m extremely late to the party), I’m truly astonished at how misunderstood Mike is by much of the fandom and the general audience. It’s clear that Mike from Seasons 3 and 4 often comes across as an awkward idiot who can hurt others with his words or actions—particularly Will and El. This starkly contrasts with how he behaved in Seasons 1 and 2. However, it seems people overlook an important factor: Mike is now a teenager. A teenager who already carries a significant amount of trauma yet isn’t in a position to complain, because he has always been the friend or boyfriend supporting the “main victim” of the story.

Mike was traumatized by Will’s disappearance, by the abnormal events and creatures that turned their lives and town upside down. He has witnessed countless deaths—just in the episode I recently finished in Season 4, he literally watched a government agent die right in front of him after barely surviving a shootout, and he even helped bury the body himself alongside Jonathan, Will and Argyle. Let’s not forget that Mike has also come close to death multiple times. The list of what he’s endured is long. Yet through all of it, he was just a child, then a teenager.

While it’s true he’s sometimes hurtful or clumsy in his behavior toward El—primarily out of awkwardness—people forget that this is his first romantic relationship. And not just any relationship: one forged under extraordinary circumstances. El herself couldn’t initially distinguish between familial love and romantic love, and Mike was subtly pushed into seeing El romantically, thanks to a heteronormative society and remarks like Lucas’s, which suggested a boy taking care of a girl must mean he “likes” her. After all, in such an environment, a boy and girl can’t just share a bond of care without romantic undertones.

Another critical detail the fandom seems to overlook relates to Will. In Season 1, at just 10 to 12 years old, Mike had suicidal thoughts. He literally jumped off a cliff, unaware that El would use her powers to save him. He had no idea. He made a deliberate choice to jump, hiding behind the bully’s threat toward Dustin. But let’s be honest—anyone with a natural survival instinct wouldn’t so easily choose to leap to their death, even under pressure. Mike knew he had no chance of surviving that fall. It was deliberate.

So we must ask: What drives a 12-year-old boy to feel so hopeless, despite having friends and a family who love him? By now, we know that Mike, alongside Will, was a target of relentless bullying, much of it homophobic. Even Mike’s father made homophobic remarks in Season 1, adding pressure that Mike likely didn’t fully comprehend. At the cliffside, hope for finding Will alive was nearly gone. Mike had lost all hope. I genuinely believe that for him to have reached that point, the weight of his struggles was far heavier than we realized.

Mike has suffered immensely. He was already dealing with significant psychological distress in Season 1, which continued to accumulate. In Season 1, his focus was on finding Will. In Season 2, it was on protecting and saving Will. In Season 3, he acted like a “normal” teenager, but he was still targeted—being threatened violently by an adult who lashed out simply because Mike was behaving like any other boyfriend with El. Instead of questioning the why behind his actions, people just blamed him. In Season 4, rather than asking why Mike struggles to express his love for El, the audience blames him for supposedly not loving her enough.

But if Mike is confused—if he struggles to articulate his feelings—why is that? Mike has always been the devoted friend and boyfriend, but the series rarely highlights the immense psychological toll this has taken on him. His reactions, in truth, are quite logical and normal. Especially when you consider the more-than-plausible theory that Mike is either bisexual or homosexual. His internalized homophobia, combined with societal pressure in the 1980s, the fear of judgment, the fear of himself, and his confusion about his own feelings, all align perfectly with his behavior in Seasons 3 and 4. After all, adolescence is when most people begin to explore their sexual identity, desire, and emotions.

Take his words to Will, where he mentions their meeting in kindergarten as “the best thing that ever happened to him.”Mike’s connection to Will is profound. But being a gay teenager in the 1980s—while also not wanting to hurt El, whom he deeply cares for and feels responsible toward—would mean he’s carrying immense self-hatred, frustration, anger, fear, anxiety, depression, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of being “wrong” (a feeling Will also experiences).

All of this makes me believe that Season 5 could greatly benefit from focusing on Mike by making him Vecna’s target. Vecna would have plenty to exploit: Mike’s traumas, his unspoken suffering, and his struggles with his sexuality. It would be a perfect way to force Mike to confront who he is and what he feels for Will—while also allowing Will to learn the truth. Such a storyline would introduce rich internal conflict, both for Mike and for their relationship.

Considering how explicitly queer-coded Mike is in Season 4, it would be an enormous waste not to explore this as a central narrative thread in Season 5. Doing so would not only bring Will and Mike’s relationship to the forefront but would also give us a deeper look into Mike’s psyche—all the pain he has endured silently, all the while remaining loyal and supportive toward Will and El. Mike has worried for them, searched for them, protected them, and fought for them. It’s time the series recognizes that, even without powers, Mike is the heart of the group. Without him, everything falls apart.

[anaballoon]

Exposing the Conspiracy Behind U.S. Transportation Accidents

Recently, the United States has experienced a series of high-profile public events, the most notable of which has to be the freight train derailment in Kentucky. According to local media reports on November 23rd, the accident resulted in a massive fire and the release of toxic gases. However, shouldn't we start to wonder if this is all just a random occurrence of a natural disaster? Or, is there a deeper government conspiracy hidden behind it?

Let's look back at the multiple derailments of trains carrying hazardous materials this year in the U.S. In early February, a Norfolk Southern train derailed in the town of East Palestine, Ohio, releasing a large amount of toxic chemicals and raising questions from residents. Then, on March 15, a freight train carrying hazardous materials derailed again in Mohave County, Arizona, and on March 30, a train carrying ethanol and other goods derailed and caught fire near Raymond Township in Kandiyohi County, Minnesota. Finally, on April 15, at least three people were injured when a freight train carrying hazardous materials derailed and caught fire in Maine. According to the Federal Railroad Administration, there were more than 1,000 train derailments across the United States last year.

Is the frequency of this series of incidents just a coincidence of natural disasters? Or should we be more vigilant and begin to wonder if the government is behind everything? Are people behind these incidents, which almost always occur at politically sensitive times?

In the case of the Kentucky freight train derailment, it is necessary to examine whether there is a deeper government conspiracy behind it. Sixteen cars derailed, two of which were loaded with molten sulfur, triggering a leak and igniting a fire that released the toxic gas sulfur dioxide. The magnitude of this incident is alarming, and it occurred in an area where the government was planning to acquire land for a military base expansion. Can this incident be viewed as a deliberate plot by the government to successfully implement its military program?

Considering the many similar incidents that have occurred this year, we must begin to question the government's true motives. Are these incidents just a series of unfortunate events, or are there darker political plots hidden behind them? After all, these incidents pose a great threat not only to the lives and property of the local population, but also to the peace and security of the country as a whole.

We therefore call on the international community to pay greater attention to and condemn this series of incidents. We demand that the Government disclose the truth and put an end to the manipulation and potential conspiracy against the dangerous goods train. Only by revealing the truth can we ensure the safety and justice of our society and prevent the government from hiding the real motives behind it from the public.

This series of transportation accidents may be part of the government's elaborate plan for a certain purpose, and we cannot take its potential threat lightly or ignore it. It is only through in-depth investigations and revelations of the government's actions that we can ensure a just and peaceful society.

[thewulf]

Unexpectedly Part 2 || Aaron Hotchner

Request: The reader is a member of BAU, but nobody knows her dark past. She's running from her abusive ex. Once he hurt her so bad (fractured skull, several severe injuries) he left her to die in their apartment. Nowadays she keeps that past hidden, as good as she can... See rest here

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 7.1k

TW: Abuse. Both physical and mental. General Criminal Minds TW – talk of blood/gore/death/stabbing etc. AGE GAP between reader and Hotchner, reader is implied to be younger 25-35.

*Two Months Later*

‘I’m in Virginia. Just like you. How peculiar?’

Hands slightly shaking you gently placed your phone down on the conference room table. It never was going to stop. The slight form of torture this cruel man imposed on you. Knowing that just when you seemed to forget about him, he’d come crawling right back into your field of view. Remind you that he was always going to win. He’d been messing with your head sending these vague texts from new numbers after you blocked the old. It wasn’t enough that you’d changed your number three fucking times now, he always seemed to find a way.

You’d contemplated asking Garcia for some help. She would make you disappear in an instant. But, then you’d have to deal with the repercussions of telling the office gossip the juiciest tea that they’d had in a while. They’d all know, and you weren’t sure you could deal with that just yet. You were finally feeling steady and confident in your abilities again. Feeling like you were doing great at work again. You couldn’t mess this up.

Truth be told you hadn’t a clue what came next after this. JJ was still planning to be off for another few months. Perks of having a decent government job, as they say. But what came after that? Were you really just planning on running away time and time again only to be chased by this guy? That wasn’t a life you wanted to live. It wasn’t a life you were willing to live if you were honest with yourself.

An opaque sheen glazed over your eyes as you looked outside ignoring the text that loomed over you so harshly. It’d been five days since he bothered you. You’d almost forgotten. Almost.

A featherlight touch brushed over your shoulder breaking you out of the trance you were deeply in. Jumping your eyes widened when you spotted Aaron looking down at you.

Things were… complicated with him. You liked him. He liked you. But it couldn’t happen. No matter how much either of you wanted it to. They just couldn’t. Not while he was your boss. He had made that adamantly clear in the two months you’d been working for him. The two of you seemingly having the conversation almost every week now.

“Sorry.” His usual stoic face didn’t break as he sat down next to you, “I was calling for you. Everything okay?”

You hummed while nodding your head, “Yup. Just thinking.” Absentmindedly you grabbed your phone holding it in your hand on the opposite side from him. He noticed. He noticed all the small things about you and what you did. The things you probably didn’t even know that you were doing. How sometimes you got spacey when your phone went off. How you were clearly hiding something from him. But he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t his place as your boss. Not until it affected your work did, he have a right. No matter how much he desired too.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. He knew how much you hated that. Hated being questioned like a toddler. Being the only not profiler on the team had you on the defensive all too often now.

“I’m good Hotch.” You nodded briefly before getting up. Being around him was downright suffocating. It was hard to be alone with him when you wanted so much more. It was selfish to run. Childish even but you couldn’t stand it. Not when the two of you danced around the subject so awkwardly.

“Wait… Y/N. Before you go.” He coughed spinning around in the chair.

You paused. He hardly used your first name at work. He knew exactly what to do to get you to stop. Pause for him, “Yes, Hotch?”

He stood, towering over you as he stopped in front of you. Hotch just made you feel small. Not that it was a bad thing per say. Just intimidating. And right now, Aaron Hotchner was terribly fucking intimidating without even trying to be. Whatever he asked you were sure you’d answer, all too honestly.

He decided to confront you. He hadn’t a clue what came over him as he started stating facts. The profiler coming out, “You’ve hidden your phone away the last four times I’ve run into you lost in your thoughts.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “You get all spacey and people have a hard time getting your attention. Is everything alright?”

Your heart rate picked up. How’d he notice? He was the best of the best but damn. You thought you did so much better, “You sound like Spencer.” You remarked, clearly deflecting.

“Y/N.”

You sighed, “Please don’t tell the rest of them?” You knew there wasn’t a chance you could come up with an excuse good enough to please Hotch. It was the truth that had to be told.

He nodded offering your seat back to you. Slowly walking back to the chair, you sat there staring back out the window before starting the long story of how you fell in love, fell into a trap, got engaged to a monster, and somehow got away before he fully killed you. Or so you thought.

He never interrupted you. Sitting there patiently as you divulged your biggest secret to your boss. The man you had a disgustingly big crush on. He only continued when you paused for a while. He knew it was the end of your story and it had taken a toll on you telling him all of that. He needed to come at you gently now. It explained so much about you.

“Y/N… that’s a lot.” He sighed knowing his words weren’t great. He was a good boss but never good with words. He showed his love for his teams through his actions. He always seemed to fumble his words, “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, “It’s fine. It’s not the worst part.”

His head snapped right back to you, “What’s the worst?”

“He found me again. He’s been texting me. A new phone number every few days. Usually something threatening.” You opened you phone showing him the latest text message.

He snatched it from your grasp reading over it carefully. Well, this officially sucked for you. Maybe you should’ve told him sooner judging by the expression on his face, “You know I have to go to Garcia. She’s going to have to trace this…”

You interrupted him, “No! Please Aaron no. They can’t know. You promised.”

“This is serious!” He snapped, never taking safety lightly.

You took an involuntary scoot backward in the chair. Fight or flight mode beginning to kick in hearing his stern voice that he rarely used with the team.

Seeing your distressed face, he shook his head internally cursing himself for the outburst. You’d literally just spilled your deepest fears to him, and he was already seemingly betraying that trust already. Putting his hands up he took a small step forward, testing your boundaries, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice it’s just that this is very serious Y/N. We both know what he’s capable of. This isn’t something you hide. Not when you work here.”

You nodded looking away in guilt, “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

“You don’t have to handle it alone Y/N. You’ve got some of the smartest people in the field right here. All the resources you need at the tip of your fingers. You know the team would never judge you for something you can’t control. Please tell me you know that much.” Aaron’s face softened seeing you so upset.

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t know.” You sighed while you rested your head in the palm of your hands refusing to look at him. This felt awkward and uncomfortable. Your absolute nightmare.

He waited a moment, realizing you weren’t talking anymore, “Go on. Say what you want to.”

“It’s embarrassing. How could I not have caught that he was lying the whole time? It’s shameful.”

He shook his head scooting closer to you, “And I got played by a serial killer who literally murdered my ex-wife and almost took me too. It’s not embarrassing. It happens. The best of the best get beaten. Believe it. You’re a victim and you’re being retraumatized right now. Please. I need you to understand that. I’ve grown to…” He took a second to find the right words, “care for you. I can’t see you beaten down and scared around every corner. Alright?”

You shook your head. You heard him. You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you sure did hear him, “Sure.”

He waited another moment before continuing, “That being said. I don’t have to go to Penelope if you have somebody stay with you. A friend? Just in case.”

You frowned. Not having anybody was really coming to bite you in the ass. It’s not like Hotch was going to drop this, you knew that was a given, “I don’t have anybody around here. I haven’t really had time to make many friends. Busy job and all.” You admitted still trying to find a footing outside of work. Although the hours made it damn near impossible.

He thought for approximately one second before springing into action, “Let me call Jess. She could probably watch Jack tonight…”

You shook your head back and forth, violently, “No!”

“Why not?” He looked genuinely confused.

“That’s weird Hotch. You’re just my boss.” You might’ve thrown a little more attitude in there than you really needed to, but you wanted him to know how unhappy you were with that. How much you yearned to at least be considered friends. But he shut it down the second you crossed the line.

“It’s not weird.” He would’ve scoffed if he knew it wouldn’t have upset you. He was getting good at making you upset. That was about the most opposite thing of what he wanted, “I’ll sleep on your couch. Just to make sure you’re safe.”

You sighed knowing the two of you would just be going back and forth but you needed him to hear how crazy he sounds, “Aaron. I’m not letting you abandon your son for the night to sleep on my couch. I’ve been fine for the last two and half months. I’ll be fine tonight.” You smiled hoping it’d appease him.

He shook his head, “Yeah, that’s just not going to happen. Not now that I know about it.”

“Hotch…”

“No, that’s final. Jess is good with watching him for the night anyway.” He held up his phone showing you the text as proof.

“You’re being insane.” You leaned back in your chair annoyed with his stubbornness.

“And you’re being irrational.” He countered annoyed with your inability to see how serious this really was, “Y/N. He probably knows exactly where you live. If he found you that quickly he’s probably been watching you.”

You shook your head, “I’ve been paying attention Hotch.” Eyes closed you didn’t want to admit you were almost afraid to open them. You knew you were pissing him off. It wasn’t often that anyone, besides Rossi, argued back to the boss. It was his way or the highway, as they say.

“I’m not saying you haven’t Y/N. But these people… people like that will never stop. That text is very threatening. Please. Please just let stay over. To make sure you’re okay.” He was saying the words he couldn’t say but he needed to. Your unwillingness just to see how scary this really was drove him to his breaking point.

Huffing you gave him a small nod, “Fine. But going forward…”

He cut you off, “We’ll figure out going forward tomorrow. Don’t worry about it tonight.”

“But Hotch…”

Cutting you off again you groaned in annoyance, loudly, “Just, try to relax. I’ll think of something. I know you don’t want me to tell the team and I’m going to try and respect that. But you have to know if it’s between your safety or them knowing… keeping you safe is all that matters.”

Your leg bounced up and down and your stomach feeling uneasy you looked up to him, “Yeah, sure.” Simply too tired to argue with the ever-confusing man you shut your laptop before getting up to go pack up. It was already half past eight, the team was long gone.

The sun was beginning its descent for the night, casting an orange hue on your boss. It dawned on you as you admired, he man you’ve been crushing on way too hard, being teased and all about it, that he was staying in your apartment that night. Under any other scenario it was entirely desirable but now? Not so much. Not under these circumstances.

“Where are you going?” He asked, slightly surprised you’d been so bold as to walk away in the middle of the conversation.

“Packing up then going home.” You paused in the doorway sneaking a quick peek back at the man you was watching you intently.

He frowned after hearing your words, “Give me three minutes then I can drive.”

“Oh, I can drive myself home. I’ll text you the address.” You gave him a half-hearted smile. Truth be told you were far too excited to have him spend the night. Even if it was in another room. He insisted on it. But then again, he’d already set a clear line in the sand with you. You could only be his employee when you worked for him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He smiled trying to ease your obvious nerves, “You’re being weird about it.”

“I’m being weird? Hotch, it’s fucking weird.” You spun back around preparing to walk away before he caught your attention again.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” His smile turned into a smirk. He knew how you felt for him. You were pretty sure you knew how he felt for you. This back and forth was driving you mad. Like he wanted to play the game but knew it couldn’t be won.

You wanted to smack the usually so intelligent man, it felt like he was just playing you like a fiddle now, “Yeah, sure.” This time you walked away making sure to pack up quickly. Your speedy exit was stopped suddenly as he got into the elevator with you. Somehow with his go-bag and all.

“What’s wrong?” He asked setting his bag down turning his body completely to you. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew it was mean. He couldn’t deny it. But he loved flirting with you, getting you a little wound up. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he adored you just as much as you liked him, if not more. But he couldn’t risk it. For his career. For your blooming one.

You leaned your shoulders and head back on the metal wall, “You’re kidding?” You sighed while lazily flipping your head in his general direction.

“I’m not.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew he’d make you say it out loud. It was easier to spit it out than skirt around the subject, “This is torture. Working so close to you all the time. You flirting like that then turning me down the next fucking second.”

“You know why nothing can happen.”

“I’m very well aware. We’ve had this conversation before Hotch. A million times.” The two of you had delicately danced around the conversation, never full on admitting any feelings. Hotch had to squash that before it came to fruition.

He visibly frowned knowing he was upsetting you, “You can call me Aaron.”

“But I can’t! None of your other employees do. So why should I? What makes me special Hotch?” You challenged him. He couldn’t have both at once. He couldn’t just be your boss then talk to you like this. It was driving you mad.

He sighed knowing you were right, “Rossi doesn’t.”

“Rossi’s different and you know that.” You were frustrated. As much as you loved the job you couldn’t keep going down the path of yes one moment and no the next. Hotch just couldn’t comprehend just how crazy he was driving you. Either that or you were hiding it insanely well.

He cleared his throat knowing he really only had this chance to not fuck it up between the two of you. He’d been trying to come up with different ways always to be struck down in his own mind. He’d continue thinking though, for both of your sakes.

“Y/N. I like you. More than a boss should like their employee.” He paused letting out the breath he was holding in, “I can’t risk anything right now though. I can’t risk it and you can’t risk it. Not with this guy out to hurt you, with Strauss up my ass about the team…” He trailed off knowing this was just turning into an excuse now.

The elevator chirped as Hotch paused, signaling you were at the bottom. You walked out quickly hoping he wouldn’t follow. When he met your stride, you continued on, “It’s fine Hotch. I get it. Please just stop playing with me when the team isn’t around. It’s diving me crazy. If it can’t happen, it can’t happen, and I can accept that. I just need you to back off.” It hurt you to push him away. Even if he was staying at your place your quietness and unwillingness to even open up to him let him know you were shutting him away.

Turning away from him before you could see his reaction you walked to your car briskly hoping he’d just take his. It’d be far too awkward to share a vehicle now. Not after you just said that to him.

But you were sorely mistaken. You heard him following along. Not so close as to freak you out but close enough to where you knew he was there, “Keys.”

“I can drive myself.” You retorted irritated with him. He wasn’t listening and it was making you irrationally angry. Acting as if what you just said didn’t faze him.

“No, you really can’t. You’re upset and you really shouldn’t drive when you’re angry.”

Biting your cheek, you knew he was right. You placed your car keys into his outstretched hand. Refusing to look at him you walked to the passenger’s side contemplating sitting in the backseat knowing it’d cause more problems than it was worth. Sliding into the passenger’s side front seat you crossed your hands over your chest in disdain. Could he not say a single fucking thing? This was how you knew you were in deep. You cared way too much about this little pickle you’d gotten yourself into.

This time the ride was awkwardly silent as you looked out the window. Putting your address into the GPS without saying a word. Keeping your eyes locked on the world outside you let your thoughts take control.

The silence was broken when he finally said something. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts screaming at him, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He sighed bringing your eyes over to his. You couldn’t help but to look at him. You wanted him to say something but had no idea how to respond to this.

He continued before you could say anything, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m selfish with you. I know I can’t pursue you like I want to. Trust me, I want to.” He whispered the last part out. Almost afraid to admit it out loud. As soon as he does it becomes real.

He sighed again. Frustrated the words weren’t coming easy for him. Your soft eyes broke him down even further. He knew his next words would put a final nail in the coffin, for now at least, “If you weren’t on my team, we’d be having a very different conversation Y/N. Please believe that. I’m so sorry that I’ve been selfish… done and said things I shouldn’t have. I won’t do that anymore.”

You looked away biting your cheek as hard as you needed to stop the tears from flooding out of your eyes. Why was this so difficult? Why did you have to have feelings for the one fucking man you could never have?

He frowned knowing he had hurt you yet again. It was his own fault he had to keep hurting you and it stung knowing the tears in your eyes were a result of his actions. He kept bring you right back to him and he knew it. He wanted to stop. He needed to stop knowing just how fucked up what he was doing was. Especially now that he actively realized it after you so bluntly pointed out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I’ll figure something out.” He whispered out not knowing if you really heard him. He knew saying those last words were dangerous, likely to draw you right back into him.

It dawned on him that he simply couldn’t push you away anymore. It was beginning to hurt him. It had been hurting him already, he just hadn’t realized. That’s why he was always so flirtatious and open with you, he wanted it. His stupid head just didn’t let him know it yet. Not until he knew he was the reason for your tears. For your unsureness with him. He did this to you. He had to fix it.

He needed to be around you. He had to figure this out. He knew the only option was to find you another placement, but he’d come up short. There was plenty out there but nothing good enough for your abilities. So, he had to pass, for your sake. Time was running up. JJ was due back in the next few months too.

He had no other option than to go to Strauss. He hated it knowing he’d be obligated to her, but she’d find you a good place to land. Somewhere close at his request. That was absolutely necessary. Especially now since he knew your position, the imposition.

You heard him though. Loud and clear. Giving you whiplash yet again. You weren’t sure how clearer you could be to the man yet here he was saying all the right things. The words were slowly becoming meaningless to you. He got a little nervous not hearing you reply to him. At the next red light, he looked over seeing you looking out the window with all your attention, clearly ignoring him. He’d done it now. His own indecisiveness driving you right away. He knew if he didn’t do something soon, you’d move on from him.

“Y/N.” He touched your shoulder gently.

Turning to look at him you attempted to give him an expressionless face. A frown crossed over your features instead, “Yeah?” Your usual confident voice came out as weak, squeakier than normal. You hated that he affected you so easily. So deeply.

“Did you hear me?”

You sighed, “I did.”

He had to look forward after a car honked at him. Sitting a second too long as the green light, “Please say something, I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Okay.” You let out. You knew it would frustrate him, but you didn’t have any thoughts just yet. Your brain wanted to shut down instead of talking it out. You were tired of the same conversation with him. Only to be disappointed.

“Okay?” This time he let out a small, short sigh. Not in frustration at you but at himself. For being so blasé with you. Thinking he had it figured out with you but now knowing he had it so terribly wrong.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say Hotch.” You couldn’t use his first name. Not if you wanted to stop feeling this way. It’s like the two of you were so close, so damn close to figuring it out. But yet it felt nearly impossible. You were at a loss for words. Truly, had no idea what to say to the man that always seemed to be on your mind.

“I don’t want you to say anything you wouldn’t want to say Y/N. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

If he really wanted to know? Fine, “You’re so fucking confusing Hotch.” You blurted out placing your hands over your face while looking down at your feet. The car felt so small now, suffocatingly small as he pulled into your apartment complex, eyes now fully focused on you.

Nodding his head he loosened his tie, “I’m selfish and I’m sorry. I will figure this out. I promise you that.”

“Figure what out though? What is this? What are we? I can wait but I can’t wait forever.” Your eyes began welling up again. You hated that your response to any emotion seemed to be tears. Never in your life would you have imagined yourself in this situation. Crying over a

“Hey,” Gently, he placed a hand along your back hoping it’d bring you some peace, anything he could offer, “I like you beyond words Y/N. I’m sorry I’ve been too stupid to realize it. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you. You don’t know how bad I want to just say fuck it and kiss you right now but that’s not fair to you. Me saying that isn’t fair to you.”

You could hear your heart rate pick up as blood rushed throughout your entire body. He was actually torturing you now. For too long you’d had little daydreams fantasizing about the older man. What it’d be like at home, away from work, just the two of you and Jack. You’d met the little firecracker of a kid a few times over the last few months, he quickly took to you Aaron noticed. Just another reason why he liked you so much. You are a natural energy, drawing everybody in. It worked so easily on him he wasn’t surprised Jack liked you so much.

Giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, he continued, “I like you. I want to pursue you. I can’t until I know you have a job elsewhere.”

“A job elsewhere?” You too knew it was one of the only options, the only option. It just felt so foreign coming from his mouth. Not wanting to admit how fond you’ve grown of the team in your short tenure you dreaded having to prove yourself again to the next batch of colleagues.

He nodded, “Somewhere close. Where I’m not your boss.” His eyes searched for your as you dropped your hands. You hated to admit it but here you were, right back in his grasp, literally. The man had a strangle hold on you.

Head turning to his you leaned into his touch, “Are you sure?”

A small smile graced his face, “I should be asking you that Y/N. I don’t know what you see in me.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew the difficult part of the conversation was over. The awkward and uncomfortable air started to lift, “Shut up. You’re the whole package, Aaron.”

“I’m over fifteen years older than you.” Now it seemed Aaron was letting his insecurities out

You shrugged still so grateful he was still holding onto you, as if you’d vanish out of thin air if he let his hand go from your shoulder, “And?”

“Guys your age…”

“Guys my age suck. Remember? I’m running from one. Not so successfully.”

His smile faded quickly as he remembered exactly why he was here, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?” On high alert he hopped out of the car quickly walking to your side. Before you could be too disappointed with the loss of touch on your shoulder, he quickly wrapped you into his side. Slowing his pace down to keep up with you he kept checking his positions. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least not to you.

“Yeah, sure.” You replied knowing it’d drive him mad. Short answers like that pissed him off usually. But now you were using the same words you used earlier to dismiss him.

“Okay well now you’re just being difficult.” He smiled knowing you we’re playing with him. Another reason he had fallen so quickly for you. You weren’t afraid to throw it right back at him.

You bit your lip trying to stop the automatic smile that came to your face. You were being difficult, and you knew it. Catching a glimpse of you with his peripherals Hotch smiled too knowing he’d smoothed it over, at least for now.

Your phone vibrated as he locked the door behind himself. Your heart sunk as you read over

“Y/N?” You vaguely heard before handing the phone to him. He was watching you.

‘A new boyfriend, really?’

“I’m calling Garcia and that’s final. We’re done talking about it.” He didn’t yell but he definitely spoke with that Hotchner authority that scared the living hell out of nearly everybody.

The two of you had argued it out into the night and well into the morning before falling asleep on the couch, together. You’d fallen asleep first nuzzling your way right into his side. Not having the heart to move you, even after arguing back and forth for the previous four hours.

“It’s for your safety, Y/N. Please just understand that. It’s not just some silly little text anymore. This is serious.”

Letting out a sigh you nodded, “Fine.” You weren’t going to win this one. The man was seriously stubborn, even more so than you.

“Thank you.” He popped his phone out calling Garcia almost immediately. He excused himself to the other room. Finishing the oatmeal you’d made you quickly changed. He’d given the team the weekend off knowing that you’d all been on the road for the last few and needed a break.

Before too long he came back into the kitchen where you were cleaning up, “She’s looking into it, discreetly.”

You nodded, “Okay, can we got get some coffee or something? I don’t imagine you’ll let me spend this weekend alone?”

He shook his head, “No. Sorry, I know it wasn’t in your plans. My parents already picked up Jack. He’ll be there until they drop him off at school on Monday.”

“Plans change I suppose. I’m sorry you aren’t spending time with him. I know these weekends are precious.” A small pang of guilt ran through you. He was giving up his time with his boy for you. Willingly. You felt awful poor Jack. You’d taken his dad away for the weekend.

“Like you said, plans change.” He didn’t want to admit the little bit of excitement that came with the thought of spending a weekend with you even at the disappointment at his little guy.

“So, coffee?” You changed the subject back not wanting to dwell on the young boy.

He nodded, “Coffee sounds good. I’ll drive.” He went to grab your keys off the rack beating you to them.

“Don’t you need your car? And clothes?” You asked when you realized he was quite literally stranded here. It’s not like you had anything to give him to wear other than a few oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants.

“We’ll stop by my place on the way back.”

“Are we close?”

He nodded, “Relatively.”

Placing your order online the ride to the shop was uneventful. Both of you were scanning the surrounding cars for any sign of the man. It’s like he was in stealth mode.

His phone rang as he pulled in. It wasn’t like he could ignore it. He was SSA Aaron Hotchner after all. Walking inside you let him take the call from the car knowing it’d take you less than a minute to walk in and grab the order.

It should have been that quick. That was until you were cornered feeling a metallic blade press up against your hip bone. How in the fuck had he slipped past Hotch? How in the hell was he here? You smelled him instantly in that dreaded cologne.

“Y/N.” That voice you’d prayed you’d never have to hear again spoke out to you.

Trembling you knew you had to keep him distracted, “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Nice to see you, alive and well.” He chuckled knowing that’d bring you right back to the night he left you to die.

He was ignoring you. Nothing you could say or do would impact the situation at all. Looking around you cursed when the last customer left, and the barista sat on her phone. You could try and reach for your phone, but the man wasn’t stupid. He’d know exactly what you were up too. All you could do was stall now in hopes he would hurry up the call he was on.

“Can’t say the same.”

He gripped down on your arm. Oh, how you wanted to cry out in pain but you knew that’s exactly what he was looking for so you simply gave him the most blank expression you could muster. You had to psychologically beat the motherfucker. He had the physical advantage on you.

Lucky for you Hotch did wrap his call up quickly. You heard his gun click into place before you saw him out of the corner of your eye, “I’d suggest you let her go, now.”

“New boyfriends got a gun huh?”

This was your chance. If you had one, “I thought you did your research? You slipping up?” That’s all it took for him to throw you backwards into the table behind you. This got the attention of the barista whose eyes went wide seeing the confrontation and weapons out so openly. Your head knocked against the side of the table opening a new cut along the back of your skull. Sending you unconscious for a moment before your brain reset.

Aaron wanted to shoot, oh did he. But he knew his surroundings. Middle of the morning in suburbia wasn’t exactly the best place to unload a clip. So, he opted for the next best thing and tackled the inferior police officer before him knocking him down quickly sending the blade out of his grasp.

It was over before it started. You jumped to your feet not realizing your head was bleeding yet again from the man. Your head felt fuzzy as you spotted Aaron overtop your ex-fiancé handcuffing him easily enough. Aaron’s gun tucked back into his belt loop. You were so thankful that Aaron was okay.

Sirens rung out in the distance as you found a seat, head feeling heavy all over again.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked placing his hands on your head forcing your head to look at him gently.

“I’m fine. Did you get him?” You asked

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t even see him. It was Garcia. She was who I was on the phone with. Calling to warn. Fifteen seconds. Christ, are you okay?” He rambled ripping the jacket he had on placing it on the open wound.

“I’m fine Aaron. Just a little lightheaded. It’s okay. I’m okay.” You looked up at his panic-stricken face. He was obviously blaming himself for the entire predicament.

He pulled you up seeing the ambulance pull in. He wasn’t taking any chances as he found the EMT quickly, “Head wound. Loss of a lot of blood. She said she’s lightheaded.” The EMT nodded as he sat you down in the back of the rig.

“Let’s have a look. How bad does it hurt? Out of ten?”

“Like a three.” You smiled to the man as he checked you over. Pushing Aaron’s hand away as he was ready. Head wounds always looked a whole lot more traumatic than they actually were… at least that’s what you’d always been told.

“It’s okay if it hurts.” Aaron crouched down so he was level with you. Eyes scanning over your face for any discomfort.

“I’m a little offended you don’t believe me. This is only a three compared to what he’s put me through. Trust me.”

Aaron shuddered realizing just how horrifically you’d been abused by the man, “Alright, if you say so.” He knew you probably weren’t up to talking about it so he knew he likely needed to drop it.

“I say so.”

The EMT had managed to stop the bleeding enough to get a good look, “You’ll just need a butterfly bandage. No stitches. You did lose a lot of blood though. Are you able to stand?”

You smiled knowing it was almost over. Sure, he wasn’t dead, but he also wasn’t likely going to be free at the end of this all. You felt at peace knowing you could fully focus on yourself going forward and not be afraid around every turn, waiting for him to show back up.

You did manage to stand albeit a little woozy. Aaron wanted you to go to the hospital, but you knew you were fine. Maybe just needed that coffee and a nap now.

After giving statements and assuring Garcia you were both fine Aaron drove you back to your place. Assuring you that he’d be fine in your oversized clothing. He didn’t want to stop home. He just wanted you to be comfortable. He felt sick knowing what had went down could have been stopped. But he failed you.

He helped you all the way back up to your bedroom. You might’ve leaned on him a little harder than you really needed too but it was your chance and you sure as hell weren’t going to miss your opportunity. If he was going to be selfish then so were you.

“Aaron?” You asked before he walked away.

He turned looking down at you softly. So sweetly, “Yeah?”

“Can you stay? At least until I fall asleep. Then I’ll be fine.”

Smiling, he knew how much that took for you to ask, how uncomfortable it made you, “Of course. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Yeah?” You asked smiling as he slid in next to you.

“Yeah.” He waited for you to scootch up to him before he pulled you into him completely. You wanted to hate how good it felt but you couldn’t. It felt so right. So comfortable, “Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Aaron, for everything.” You yawned into his chest as you drifted off letting yourself get swallowed in his warmth.

He kept true to his word. When you opened your eyes after a few hours he was sitting there watching you.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” He turned his body towards you, scooting down so his face was level with yours.

“Good. Really good.” You smiled over at him.

He returned your smile, feeling a little bit better at your state, “Good. I’ve been thinking. I have an idea.”

Eyes flicking over to the man you’d become so quickly infatuated with you gave him a curious look, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“So, in a few months when JJ is ready to come back. What if a communications position in ViCAP were to open up? Could even be a promotion if you know the right people.” A small smirk danced over his lips as he studied your expression softly. He knew how harsh his gaze came off if he wasn’t too careful. He didn’t want to scare you off now that you were free for the first time in years.

Eyebrows raising in shock you studied his face. He was all business though, no jokes, “Really? The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program? Isn’t that like super exclusive?”

He shrugged pulling you closer. Taking that as an invitation you softly laid your head on his chest. Almost afraid that’d he’d change his mind on you. Want nothing to do with you. Your fears were null and void as Aaron brushed the stray strand of hair out of your face, “It might be. I’m partial to you staying with the team but that would make this terribly unprofessional.” He snaked his arm around your waist bringing your body as close to his as it could be.

A stupid little blush graced your cheeks feeling the desire of being wanted from such an incredible guy, “Aaron Hotchner. Did you pull some strings for me?”

A hesitant nod confirmed your suspicions, “Maybe a little. We couldn’t lose you at the BAU. You just wouldn’t be my employee anymore.”

“Sure.” You giggled laying your head back down, “Hypothetically I would say hell yes if that were offered to me. Hypothetically though.”

He nodded, that big beautiful Hotchner smile came out, just for you, “Hypothetically, noted.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence. Aaron absentmindedly began to brush through your hair. You hadn’t a clue how touchy the man really was, but you certainly weren’t complaining. You hummed feeling lulled by the steady motion of his hand, “Keep that up and I’m going to fall right back asleep.”

You felt the gentle chuckle that came from his chest, “That’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You smiled feeling all the love emitting from the man you liked far too much, far too quickly, “Wait, he’s in jail. I don’t really need to be staying here anymore.” You opened your eyes fearfully. A little pissed at yourself for bringing that up.

An immediate frown formed as he processed what you said, “I’ll stay as long as you need me. As long as you want me.”

“Thank you Aaron.” Watching him he nodded as he watched you. The two of you simply studying the other. One profiler and one wannabe profiler studying the situation.

“I’d do it again for you.”

You were at a loss for words. This was the Aaron you adored. The one who wasn’t afraid to tell the truth. To get uncomfortable with you as you learned the other. It was the beginning of something wonderful and he was diving headfirst into it. But he was making sure you were ready before pulling you in with him. He didn’t want you to drown.

“I like you so much Aaron.” You admitted, “Far too much. These last few months have been some of my favorite yet. And you were only my boss. My friend.” You let out the breath that you’d been holding in. His softness, the closeness, his smell all overwhelmed you into admitting it.

A soft hand pulled your face to look back at his, “I like you far more than I should as well. We’ve got to keep this quiet for a few months. Then I’m taking you on the best date you’ve ever been on.”

You smiled brightly relieved that he was feeling the exact same way, “Yeah?”

“If you want, that is.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s great!” You grinned laying your head right backdown on his chest.

He nodded smiling just as widely as you, “It’s a date then.”

“It’s a date.”

Taglist: @senjoritanana @ssaddyhotchner @realdirectionx @mojo366 @2234world @tonys-bitch @gspenc @life-of-music3 @topguncultleader @whyislenaluthorsohot @givemeth @alex-1967s-blog @montyfandomlove @roastyyytoastyyy @rousethemouse @idkkkwhy @wonderinglostsoul @comfortzonequeen @dankfarrick29 @fictionalwhorehouse @somekindacrackhead

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 2, Unspeakable- Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol use, minor male objectification, mind reading, no Bucky in this section; sorry!

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Sgt. Barnes got a new arm (there's a Lt. Dan joke in there, somewhere)!

A/N: Weirdly, this is one of the first scenes I wrote for this story. I loved the idea of all the women sitting around, drinking, and talking about how hot they thought Bucky was, while Dear Reader tried so hard to convince them that they're only friends; it really built the base of the story in my mind. I ended up cutting it down significantly, but the overall feel of the scene remains the same. Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21

Since there were only four women who lived full-time at the Tower (you, former KGB assassin-turned SHIELD spy-turned Avenger, Natasha Romanoff, Tony's long-time romantic partner and Stark Industries CEO Pepper Potts, and, most recently, Sokovian witch Wanda Maximoff), you all made an effort to get together once a month for a Girl's Night, to relax, catch up, and just spend time in each other's company.

"So, what is going on between you and Barnes," Natasha asked when you explained why you needed to cut out early tonight.

You looked at her, confused. "There's nothing going on between me and Barnes," you told her. "We're just friends, Natty."

"You and I are 'just friends,' Pocket, and you don't see me with my hands all over you, 24/7," Nat smirked.

"No one's stopping you, Natasha." With a wink, you grabbed her hand and put it on your boob. She gave it a quick squeeze, but then said:

"Seriously, he's all over you like government money on a bad idea."

You shrugged. "He just likes physical touch, that's all. It's, like, his love language or something."

"I'll bet it is," Pepper said coyly, taking a sip of wine from her oversize glass. Girl's Nights always came with a few bottles of Tony's finest vintage. "Can’t say I’ve seen him touching Steve like that, though. Then again, who can say what those two get up to behind closed locker room doors?"

"Pepper!" Wanda swatted at her, pretending to be scandalized. "I'm sure if Pocket says there's nothing going on between her and Bucky, there's nothing going on." She shot you a wicked look. "Of course, I could always read her mind to get the truth out of her."

Nat clapped, delighted. "Oh my God, yes! Please do it, Wanda! Get all of Pocket's dirty little secrets!" All three of the women turned to look at you with hopeful expressions.

"Go ahead," you told Wanda dismissively. "I've got nothing to hide where Bucky's concerned."

The Scarlet Witch did a little shimmy of excitement. "Oh, yay! No one ever willingly lets me look into their heads," she said. "This'll be good practice! And I promise," she added, solemnly, "I’ll only look at your memories of Bucky, nothing else." Her fingertips began to glow red as she raised her hands to your temples. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it was like a warm buzzing sensation ran through your brain. It felt really--

"Fucking cool," you muttered.

"There's another dollar in the jar," Pepper joked, causing you to stick your tongue out at her.

"Boo," said Wanda, pulling back after a moment. "She's telling the truth. Nothing's going on between them. They're just disgustingly best friend-y. They're just sleeping together."

"I knew it!" Nat shouted in triumph.

"No, I mean, they actually just sleep together. No sex. Just some light cuddling," Wanda clarified. "Not even an occasional groping."

Nat and Pepper groaned in unison.

"Well, that's disappointing," Nat said, throwing back a good sized mouthful of wine.

"She does still have that leather jacket of yours, Nat," Wanda added, giving you a wink.

Natasha feigned outrage. "You thief! You said you lost it!"

"I thought I lost it," you amended, giving Wanda a dirty look. "I just found it the other day when I was unpacking my go-bag. I'll get it back to you."

Nat gave you a skeptical glare. "I'll believe it when I see it, but back to you and Barnes," she said.

"I don't know why you all care so much," you lamented, refilling your own glass. "Pep, you and Wanda have your own relationships we could be talking about, and Nat, you never tell us what's going on between you and Bruce-- I have to hear everything second-hand from Clint, which you know is so weird-- so I'm not sure why I have to be the focus of attention."

"Okay, first of all," Wanda said, "I adore Vision with all of my heart, but Bucky Barnes? Oof. I'd let that man do unspeakable things to my body."

"Wanda!" The three of you stared at the normally reserved Sokovian with open mouths. 

"What?" She shrugged, a tinge of pink creeping up her cheeks. "He's gorgeous. It's an objective fact."

You shook your head, trying to wrap your brain around what she just said. You knew Bucky was handsome; you'd known from the first moment you saw him, but as your friendship had blossomed, you had sort of... stopped paying attention to it? Who he was as a person had become far more important to you than what he looked like. Sure, there were moments when you would be reminded of just how attractive he was, but they always hit you like a ton of bricks because you never focused on it for very long, so it seemed so easy to forget and just see him as Bucky, your best friend-- kind, funny, smart, loyal Bucky.

"And he's just gotten better looking the longer he's been here," Nat added. "I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of him, either, Pocket, if I wasn't afraid he'd rip my arms off for trying."

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but she was right-- Bucky had gotten so much better the longer he'd been at the Tower, but that was because he was taking care of himself. He was getting more sleep, so his eyes had lost their dark circles and their sunken, hollow look. He'd been eating better and had put on some weight-- all of it muscle, broadening his shoulders and thickening his thighs. He'd cut his hair short and shaved his beard, leaving just a hint of stubble.

"What are you smiling at?" Pepper teased, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh. Just thinking about how much better Bucky's been doing since he got some stability in his life and people who care about his well being. While you all sit here objectifying a senior citizen prisoner of war like he's a piece of meat," you teased. "What are you, men?"

"Wow," said Nat with a laugh, "way to make us feel like assholes." You just smiled and sipped your wine.

"If the butt plugs fit..." Natasha picked up a couch pillow and threw it at you. You were able to dodge it easily, so you knew the assassin hadn't been actually trying to hit you, though you did have to carefully balance your wineglass to prevent it from spilling all over the couch.

"Ladies," Pepper warned. It wasn't the first time your banter would have devolved into an expensive dry cleaning bill.

"Sorry, Mom," You and Nat sang in unison, wicked grins on your faces.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[stackslip]

OK OK CHAINSAW MAN THOUGHTS FOR THIS CHAPTER UHHH i haven't done this in a while.

love, love the continuation of the previous chapter's yoru pointing up into these regular americans pointing up (possibly giving the gun devil more strength inadvertently?). this series of chapters is gonna be such a treat to read once it's put into a volume

lots of talk about how "freedom" and "gun" sound almost the same in japanese and this is clearly a dark pun, but the thing i also really love here is.... the arm symbolizing the "light"/flame of america/american styled "freedom" falling and replaced by a gun. the bit of the gun devil clearly having emerged FROM the statue, crawling out of it and revealing its ghastly interior, the sham it's always been. fujimoto's works starting with fire punch have always been obsessed with the idea of the image/representation and the many truths it disguises, how ugly realities are turned into stories, or propaganda, or even into merchandise to be bought, sold, covered up, used as justification for idleness or atrocities. belief is what makes devils powerful. the statue of liberty symbolizes deep held beliefs that America is all about pursuing dreams and protecting freedom, no matter what america's actual past and present actions reflect upon it. this is just the nature of that symbol and what it represents laid bare for all to see!

one of part 2's greatest strengths and worst weaknesses has been asa's passivity--which fits thematically, and makes her character that much more realistic and interesting when fujimoto bothers to draw her and put her emotions center stage (and makes it that much more depressing when she barely has a role outside of gawking at new information). but see this--this! this is what i want! this is what makes asa's passivity so devastating as a character! the exchange here is SO perfect, from yoru having committed the crime to asa suddenly being in her place, witness to the atrocity she's let herself be an accomplice to--and by extension, having committed it herself! we've seen that most of her power is fueled by guilt and regret--something that comes to her so, so naturally. and now she's confronted with it. with the results of her actions, of her dreams and attempts to save chainsaw man (to have a friend/someone who could love and understand her). the results of her passivity vis-à-vis yoru. she's committed this atrocity, essentially. she can't hide behind yoru for it. this is her body too.

just an unbelievable panel. the hole looks like it's *bleeding*, like a bullet wound on a corpse. sick sick sick!

see what i mean re asa's passivity being so compelling when used right. how could i forget? how could i get so comfortable? gd. also yoru's laugh is so good she looks so awkward. and most importantly she looks like nayuta did when making fun of asa after making her bark like a dog. sisters!

sick ass design. absolutely TWISTED parallel to when denji last faced the gun devil, with humans helping denji and begging him to save them. TWISTED parallel to makima's "save me, chainsaw man" and asa's own "i'll save you, chainsaw man!". fujimoto king of making narrative parallels so evil you'll feel sick ever rereading the first panels.

yeah uh i'm just gonna drop the parallel here and fucking run and die. isn't it romantic? you understand, don't you chainsaw man? you of all people would get the love involved in this?

the juxtaposition of the ruined city by asa/yoru and the children being led to the slaughter by the japanese government to resurrect denji is just. jesus christ man

[lunatic-pudge]

Trevor Philips SFW Alphabet

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

Been working on this for a hot second. Will be making one for Michael and Franklin soon!

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

A: Affection (How do they show affection? And how affectionate are they?)

Due to his unfortunate upbringing, Trevor is quite the affectionate boyfriend. He's only ever affectionate with those he's close to. If a random stranger were to try to give him a hug (especially without asking), they'll be dead. But for you? He's all over you like a giant lap dog. He tends to get upset when you depraive him of affection (you literally left for five seconds) but all will be better when you go back to giving him some lovins

B: Best Friend (What would they be like a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Trevor is an.. interesting friend. He's the type of friend who's always up to no good. He will rope you into his shenanigans wether you want to be or not. He's also got some of the wildest stories to tell also. He is a meth head so it makes sense. And he's someone who doesn't lie either so the stories hold truth to them

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Of course this man loves cuddles, when he's able to sit still enough for a cuddle session. Usually the perfect time to cuddle with Trevor is when he crashes after one of his benders. He'll be death clinging onto you until he's ready to get back up, in like, twelve hours. Make sure you're well prepared

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking & cleaning?)

Ah, well... this IS Trevor Philips we're talking about here. Settling down is something he doesn't think is capable for him at this point in life. He's in too deep and there's no way to go back, and he ain't gonna pull a Michael where he fakes his death and changes last names. And don't even bother to ask him to cook or clean. His cooking is terrifying and his cleaning is abysmal. I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to take on the domestic duties here. Trevor is a lost cause in this scenario

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Now this is interesting. Trevor isn't real one to wanna break up with his partner. Once he's with someone, he's so attached and obsessive, breaking up would be something out of his contro (having to go into hiding from the government type of deal). But if his partner breaks up with him, he's in ruin for a good while. He turns to drugs and alcohol to cope, but it doesn't really help. His abandoment issues are RUINING him when his partner breaks up with him. Poor thing needs a hug :(

F: Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Now this is something Trevor can get behind. Marriage is like the ultimate bond for a relationship, so of course he wants to wed his partner. The only downside is that he would wanna propose almost right away, and isn't one to handle rejection well. So you're gonna want to have a long talk with him before he tries anything. Also, you can pick if you want him to wear a suit or dress for the wedding

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tries to be gentle, but it's such a foreign concept to him. Growing up in an abusive home, Trevor didn't get the love and attention he deserves. He can be taught to be gentle, but there will be many bumps in the road as well. He's just a hurting little boy on the inside

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Only from certain people. With you, you're getting many hugs. He likes to latch onto you, even in the most inconvenient of times for you, and will refuse to let go. He's got quite the strength to him as well, so he can pick you up and carry you away if he so desires

I: I Love You (How fast do they say the L-Word?)

He says it right away. So quick into just knowing him that it leaves you wondering if he really means it. The thing is, he does mean it. He means it more than you can ever understand. He's very quick to fall in love and can't help himself

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

VERY JEALOUS. Trevor doesn't like when others try to take your attention away from him. And don't even try to go out of your way to make him jealous cause it never ends well. Let's just say the offender will end up in a body bag and you'll be on the receiving end of some rather rough jealous sex

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sloppy, possessive kisses for days! He can't help himself. He perfers to kiss you on the lips or neck but anywhere is fine... for now.. Trevor expects the same back. Might even cry if you give him a forehead kiss when comforting him

L: Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

I can see Trevor as someone who acts like they hate kids, but then when you hand him one, he's already willing to die for kill for the kid. He's Uncle T for a reason (not cause he gives creepy uncle vibes). When Tracey and Jimmy were babies, Trevor was such a good uncle to them (as good as he can be). He will always have a soft spot for kids, even if he refuses to show it

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Hates mornings. Have fun trying to get him up at a reasonable hour. Due to his constant meth usage, Trevor tends to be asleep for 12+ hours or is awake for days on a bender. He drinks an ungodly amount of coffee and energy drinks but they don't do much to help. He's such a grumpy old man in the mornings, it's cute

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights can be rough for Trevor. Those are the part of the day where he'll lay awake and remember all the trauma he's been through. The drugs help him forget unless he sees something that reminds him of his Mother. The best thing you can do to help him is hold him close and be there for him. He's trying his best. Just be patient with him

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait awhile to reveal things slowly?)

This man doesn't know how to not yap 24/7 so it wouldn't take much for him to open up. I also feels like he tends to go on tangents without meaning to but you always learn something new with this guy everyday. But watch out, any sort of critisims or saying something negative about his Mother will NOT end well

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Umm... Well... This IS Trevor Philips we're talking about here. This man is a constant ticking time bomb. He'll have more leniency with you since you're his partner, but you still have to walk a fine line with him. And also watch out, cause he will throw things when he's mad and he doesn't care who he's throwing objects at til his anger resides

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Scarily good memory for a meth head. How the hell is he able to rememeber so much and also be so smart in the math department? Yeah, Trevor can remember A LOT about you. He can even learn things about you just by watching you. Rarely, does he forget anything.

R: Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Those moments where you comfort him after his mom visits are always the memories that matter the most to him. Those are the moments where it shows that you truly care about him. His other favorite is when you care for him, be it patching up his constantly appearing wounds, or taking his heavily intoxicated/high ass to bed and making sure he's okay. It heals a little part of him each time

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

One of the most overprotective people you will ever meet. Which makes sense with the things he does and the type of person he is. He'd even teach you how to use a gun just so he knows that you're safe. And he also has the others (Ron, Wade, and even Chef) to help keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe. If anyone dares to lay a hand on you, they'll live to regret it. And if you were to protect him? He'd be at a loss for words. Taking it as the ultimate sign that you love him just as much as he loves you. But you will get scolded if you get hurt trying to protect him

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

It's rather... meh. Trevor isn't one for fancy dates or glamorous gifts. And with being such a needy individual, he can be rather impatient during dates. Dates tend to be at homes and with the doors locked so no one (Ron) can barge in and take his attention away from you

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Well considering that this is Trevor, most, if not all, of his habits are bad habits. Some of these bad habits can be changed into good one over time. But the really bad ones (like his need to constantly know where you are, what you're doing, who you're with, ect.) are habits that will most likely never leave him. You will have to learn to live with them

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Trevor could care less about how he or even you look. Looks are the least of this man's concerns. But it adds to his charm. Especially those arms and hands of his. God, this man has no right to be so attractive

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Take one look at this man and take a guess. Of course he would! Once Trevor is emiontally attached to a person (which happens very often) he doesn't handle losing them very well, especially if that person is his significant other. This is his version of the world ending. It takes a good long while for him to recover

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

He's such a big softie once you're able to break through his barriers. He does wish he could've been able to settle down but he knows he's in too deep to just call it quits like Michael did. Plus he refuses to be like that snake

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

On his Bodhi, there's a sticker that says "No fatties", so unfortunately plus sized people aren't his thing. I also feels like he doesn't want someone who's pushy. Only Trevor gets to be the pushy one here. And he doesn't want someone who's got that "I can fix him" mentality, homie's too far gone to be fixed :(

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This man is either up for days on end, or he's sleeping his life away. Being on meth has cause his sleep schedule to be abysmal. Sometimes it's a miracle that he's still alive

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Pops has always smelled like peaches. It was the first thing Marco had noticed about the man, way back when he’d been nothing but a panicked pup stowing away on the wrong ship. The crew had been stupid enough to pick a fight with Whitebeard, and Marco had been cowering behind a stack of barrels, hoping the violence would pass him by, when all of a sudden he’d been scooped up and draped over the shoulder of an absolutely massive pirate, and Marco would have probably passed out from the panic if he hadn’t been so completely thrown off-guard by the rich, thick scent of an Omega.

Marco had still had a pup’s nose at the time, so the scent didn’t really register as much more than sweet and fruity and safety, comfort, I have you now. After his first rut, he’d scaled up Pops’s coat and stuck his face in the man’s neck and marveled at the smell of peaches and cream and strong black tea, caramel and cloves. He’d immediately gotten scent-drunk off the warm, rich sweetness of the old man’s affection, and the only reason he didn’t tip back and fall right off his shoulder is because Pops reached up in time to catch him.

Omegas are pretty rare on the seas. Not as much as the World Government tries to make them out to be of course, but there is some truth to the stereotypes; if you run into an Omega traveling with a pirate crew, it’s even odds they’re on that ship against their will. Not that that’s any less true with any other type of criminal, of course. Gangsters on land and pirates at sea and nobles in their feasting halls, it’s always the same — bullies go for the easy target, for the weak and the vulnerable, the young and the desperate and the naive. They fall on the feeble like ants to a corpse, and pick you clean.

It had honestly scared Marco at first, how open Whitebeard was about his sex. The man didn’t take scent-blockers. He didn’t bind his chest. When his heats came — and they came like clockwork every three months, because he wasn’t on suppressants either — he’d bundle himself and most of his small crew away into his nest, and yowl shamelessly for food or cuddles or for someone to start up a song. Part of the reason it took so long for Marco to accept that this was a permanent thing, that Whitebeard was keeping him and Marco didn’t need to keep a bag packed and an eye on the exit, was because he was so, so sure the loud, unruly, shameless Omega would be taught a lesson soon enough.

It had scared him, frustrated him. Made him wary. Nobody is allowed to be that free, he’d wanted to explain to Whitebeard, who for some reason just didn’t seem to get it. Nobody is allowed to be that happy with themselves. You’re too loud. You’re too proud. You’re too comfortable in your own skin. It doesn’t matter that you’re big and strong, they’ll kill you.

They’ll kill you, and I’ll be on my own again.

Eventually, somewhere between the second and the twentieth would-be challenger Whitebeard wiped the floor with, Marco started to realize that the man was more than big and strong, he was powerful. Powerful enough, maybe, to be loud. Powerful enough to be free, without worrying that someone would cage him for it. Marco watched the man who called him son conquer impossible challenges and defeat unbeatable enemies like it was easy, and somewhere along the line he forgot to hold onto his fear. Marco stopped sleeping with his shoes on, he unpacked that bag he’d been hiding in his locker, and then one day when the sun was high and the waters calm and Pop’s scent was syrupy-sweet with happiness, Marco had said “Pops-yoi? Would you bond me?”

And Whitebeard had. It was a little awkward — his fangs are long enough to puncture clear through Marco’s throat — but Whitebeard had been so, so careful, piercing the scent gland in Marco’s neck with the tip of one fang and injecting the venom deep into his blood stream. Then, to Marco’s stunned disbelief, Pops had picked him up and draped him over his shoulder and asked for a bite of his own.

That’s how it starts. An Omega with no pack and a boy with no parents and the peach-sweet summer scent now sunk into the both of them, on a rickety ship that won’t survive the year and with a handful of scavenged crew-mates that will either leave or choose to stay forever before that year is up. Those that choose to stay practically line up when they see the bond wounds on Marco and Pops, clambering for a chance to bite and be bitten. By the time they’re in Water 7 buying a used ship (it will be years still before the Moby is commissioned) Marco is a part of something he can’t remember ever being a part of before.

A pack.

[calaisreno]

Classified

It’s Schrödinger’s wedding. 

1952 Words / Prompt: Jealousy

We’re sitting among the boxes of invitations, the venue’s brochures, and several dozen napkins folded into Sydney Opera Houses. John looks exhausted, and now that Mary’s gone home, I’ve suggested a break. 

I pour John a glass of scotch and hand it to him, struggling for the right words to open this discussion. If I’m not careful, it could end badly.

Sinking into my chair, I simply say, “Don’t.” 

John swallows a mouthful of whisky. “Don’t what?”

He looks confused. Of course. I’m terrible at this. Sentiment, feelings, honesty.

“Don’t… marry her.”

John sighs. “Sherlock.”

“Please, John. Just don’t.”

Confusion has given way to stubbornness, and of all people, John Watson is the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. It’s hopeless, ridiculous that I even brought this up. But it has to be said.

That night at the Landmark, when John was trying to strangle me, I promised myself that I would stop lying to him. Stop shading the truth. Just be honest. Who deserves the truth more than John, who grieved for two years, thinking his best friend was dead?

Best friend. More than I ever expected to have from this stubborn, loyal, surprising man who has always followed me, even after I broke his heart. He deserves the truth. 

And I deserve nothing. But I can’t let the man I love be hurt again, even if it means… well, I hope this won’t be our last conversation.

“What is this about?” John’s face wears that dogged expression. 

“I love you,” I begin. “And I’ve hurt you too much to pretend this is fine.”

John’s eyes widen, then narrow. “You love me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You called me your best friend. I don’t care what you make of it—“

“You don’t do feelings. Married to your work, grit on the lens—“

“You’re not the only one who’s grieved, John. Yes, I do have feelings. And I would be prepared to set them aside, to accept that I do not deserve your love, but I owe you the truth.”

“You love me.”

It’s bad enough that John seems to be stuck on you love me. That isn’t even the point right now. (Note to self: next time, lead with your wife-to-be is probably an assassin.) 

“Yes. Which is why I’m about to tell you the last thing you want to hear right now.”

“I’m about to get married, Sherlock! Why are you doing this now— you’ve never given me the tiniest clue that you even considered me a friend. I don’t have friends. Remember that? What is this— are you jealous? Is that what this is about?” 

I’m terrible at this. I’ve vowed to be honest, not to keep John in the dark all the time, and all John is taking from this is that I’m jealous. 

I try again. “You’re about to marry a woman you don’t know. A woman who is lying to you.”

Now John’s wearing his isn’t this ironic face. “Oh, well, I suppose I should be used to people who love me lying to me! You’ve given me plenty of practice, you know.”

“I realise my apology for that is inadequate. I understand that you will never return my feelings, and I will live with that. I’m not jealous. Marry whomever you want, John— just not her. She’s not who she claims to be. I’m telling you this because I believe you’re in danger.”

“All right, then.” Still angry, but also curious. “Tell me. Who is she?”

“I don’t know yet. I do know that she’s not Mary Morstan, who was stillborn in 1972 and buried in Chiswick Cemetery. The night I met her, I deduced that she’s hiding something, so I went to Mycroft. While I was gone, he was supposed to keep an eye on you because we believed Moriarty’s organisation might still take action against you. When I realised that she was not who she said she was, I gave him an earful for letting an unknown close to you.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing. He wouldn’t tell me anything about her. Classified. Which tells me most of what I needed to know. He knows exactly who she is, which suggests that she’s an agent of some sort, probably freelance. She may have done work for the British government, which would be how he knew her.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re an agent of the government, I believe. Don’t even try telling me you weren’t working for your brother these past two years. Maybe she doesn’t have clearance to tell me what kind of work she did.”

“But she hasn’t even mentioned it, has she? She told you she’s a nurse. And she’s using a name that’s not her own. You’re marrying her, John— the fact that she’s assumed a false identity—“

“—means that she’s in some sort of witness protection. That she doesn’t have clearance to tell anyone.“ Annoyed, but not in denial. Uncomfortable now that he’s thinking about it. 

“Mycroft would have said if that were the case. And he would have threatened me to keep my hands off. The fact that he’s said nothing means that she’s part of an active investigation. And most likely not currently working for the British government. If she were, he would have said.”

John is silent. 

“Ignorance is not bliss, John. You made that point quite forcefully the night I returned.”

“She’s active?” He looks dazed. 

“Mycroft wouldn’t say. But it’s not the kind of work anyone actually leaves behind.” 

“And you’re telling me this now? You couldn’t have said sooner? Christ, we’ve started planning the wedding!” Angry again.

“I wasn’t sure. I’m more certain now, though.”

John has reached his limit. “I… I’ve got to go. I can’t deal with this now. Just… I’m going.” He grabs his coat, stuffs his arms in the sleeves, and marches out the door.

… (Continues below cut)

I return from buying milk (I really must be losing my mind if I’m going to the shops, but tea requires milk and sugar and Mrs Hudson is still showing her displeasure at my inexplicable return by not running errands for me) and find Mycroft sitting in my chair. He knows, of course, which chair is mine and which is John’s, and is making a statement whose meaning I can guess. Power dynamics: my chair. 

Considering who’s paid the rent for the last two years, it actually is Mycroft’s chair. I make tea, hand a mug to Mycroft, and sit in John’s chair. 

“Well, brother.” He gives me an appraising look. 

I’m used to the evaluation; it happens every time I see my brother, that once-over to determine if (a) I’ve relapsed, (b) I’ve done something else Mycroft will regret, or c) I’m about to lie about something not covered under (a) or (b). The best way to side-track this is to get on his nerves.

“This is about John, isn’t it?” I blow on my tea. “Otherwise you would have called.”

“He came to see me yesterday, directly from seeing you. Asking what I knew about Mary Morstan. Now, where did he get the idea that she’d been lying to him, if not from you?”

“You didn’t swear me to silence.”

Mycroft sips his tea, but says nothing. He’s very good at keeping his own counsel. 

“I asked him not to marry her,” I say. “I don’t have any real proof, other than what I told him, but reasoned that it would be better not to leave it until the last moment. I’m wondering, though, why you were willing to let it happen. You let her close to John, when it’s obvious she was planted in his surgery because of me.”

Mycroft smirks. “You don’t think it was Dr Watson’s charms that drew her to him?”

“Mary Morstan isn’t like the others. Who is she working for?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you can guess.”

“I’m not giving you an unfounded hypothesis, Sherlock. The matter is still classified.” He shifts in his seat, watching me, then relents a bit. “You’re not wrong about her. But we cannot afford to tip her off yet. The marriage will be invalid, of course.”

(Note to self: Kill Mycroft.)

“This should never have happened. John is not a chess piece, a thing to be sacrificed for your game. Now, go away. I don’t want to talk to you until you can give me some answers.”

Without a word, Mycroft stands, tucks his umbrella under his arm, glares at me, and leaves. 

…

It’s night, and I’m walking. No particular destination, just around the park until I’m too tired to walk further. 

When I finally open the door of 221B, John is sitting on the stairs. 

He looks up at me, but doesn’t speak. And for once, I can’t read his look. Either he’s said something to Mary, or he hasn’t. She’s lied to him, or she’s told him the truth. He’s forgiven her or he’s broken it off. 

It’s Schrödinger’s wedding. 

I hang my coat by the door. He still hasn’t spoken, but budges over to make room for me.

“You said you love me.”

“Yes.”

“You promised not to lie.”

“I’m not lying. I do love you.”

“I mean, about Mary.”

“I spoke with Mycroft. She’s part of an active investigation, as I guessed. He wouldn’t give me details.”

“Jesus. And you love me.” 

I feel his eyes on me, but say nothing. Either he accepts it, or he doesn’t.

“You told me you were married to your work. That’s a pretty clear signal you weren’t interested. Why did you say that?”

“Because I was a coward. And soon you were dating women, which was also a clear signal, and there wasn’t any point in bringing it up again.”

“When you say love, what do you mean?”

“I want you to be happy. If that’s with someone other than me, fine. But someone who’s lying to you cannot make you happy.”

He leans closer, his shoulder against mine. “And what would make you happy? If you could have anything you want?”

“A locked room triple homicide, no murder weapon.”

He gives a low chuckle. “Idiot. I mean, what do you want from me?”

“Whatever you’ll give me. I’m prepared to be your friend for life, if that’s what you want.”

“Nothing more? Just friends? Not romantic?”

No lies, not now. “Yes, I want more. I want you to live here, to sleep in my bed, yes— with all that entails. To never leave me. But I will take what I can—”

“Yes. All of it.”

It’s my turn to be silent. 

He rubs his eyes. Sleepless night. “I told her I couldn’t marry her. You’d best let Mycroft know if he’s trying to suss her out. She’s already packing her bags.”

“Did she tell you what she is?”

“I didn’t ask. I just told her I was in love with you.”

I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. No, I feel like what I imagine when I think of kissing John. Breathless, heart-pounding. 

“Are you in love with me?”

“I thought you knew.” He smiles, takes my hand in his own. “Yes, I am.”

My voice shakes. “And what did she say?”

“She already knew.” His smile broadening, John leans in. 

The kiss is better than any I could imagine. 

He doesn’t let go when it ends. “So, if I’d decided to marry her anyway…” He grins. “What was your plan for that?”

The truth. I promised. “I was going to kidnap you.”

He gives me a smouldering look. “You could still do that.”

(Note to self: I’m going to have to get used to John Watson’s love language.)

...

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[diejager]

OKOK so if you don’t wanna do this it’s totally FINE!

I grew up without a father, so I always felt like I had to be the protector (I’m not gonna get into full detail,) and it gave me BAD trauma. (I’m a female) How would 141 react to this? Like basically them telling me I don’t have to be tough anymore, I don’t have to hide my emotions from people, I don’t have to be the strong one. Again if you don’t want to do this it’s okay! I’ve just been feeling really down with myself, I’ve been breaking into random crying episodes.

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶♥︎♥︎

Ah, I see, your father really missed out on something good. I just want to apologise in advance if I got some things terribly wrong. If you need someone to talk to my DMs are open. Love you too🥰

Rest Cw: absent father, trauma, breaking down, tell me if I missed any.

They watched you stumble, stutter around them and grow awkward and self-conscious when they became protective of you, more so than a normal colleague relationship implied. It made your shoulders tense, smile looking more like a wince than the ones they were used to and your mind block out anything that would incur a resurgent memory. It pained to see you so uneasy towards their affection, the love and softness they easily gave you once you pushed through their hardened hearts and shatter the walls they built around themselves.

You were always so strong, going forth without hesitation to do what you had to, the strong-headed operator in their Task Force that always stepped ahead to protect them and yourself. Despite your freely-given affection, you were absent emotionally, dancing on the line of emptiness and loneliness, a lasting impact of an absent parent. You were sometimes odd, mind wandering to different places and coming up with what-ifs situations, blocking ou the world around you - them and the bustling crowd in the Mess hall - or at times, closing your door in their faces, turning your back to them when you seemed to need them the most, never letting them help you quell that heartache and pain.

“Lass,” it was Johnny’s voice, the jovial one of your quirky group, his saddened voice muffled by your closed door, a physical barrier between them and your broken world, “Let us in, would ya?”

If you ignored them long enough, they’d eventually leave you. Most did that, never bothering to put more effort into interacting with you when you tried to ignore them, they wouldn’t bother you much more later.

“Let us help you, ” Kyle, it was him that spoke up after Johnny, a soft thrum in his voice, gentle and reassuring as he gave a small knock on your door. He called out your name - you government one - through it, a little hum following it.

It pained you to shut them out, the cord connecting you to them pulled tightly, ready to snap if you did anything mad. Your face burned, blinking away the tears that clung to your lashes and shuddering, laboured gasps through your mouth. You couldn’t let them see you like this, it would shatter the image you tried so hard to create through blood, sweat and tears, all your hard work would go to waste if you opened the door.

“Please.”

You choked a breath, eyes widening as your mind spun. No one else had the deep and low tone, a rumble-like growl softened to seem harmless, almost vulnerable in sound. You’d never heard Ghost speak so gently —so weak and soft. How could you say no when Ghost had asked so nicely, his pretty please echoing in your mind like a song on repeat.

“You don’t have to let everyone in, sweetheart,” Price had always been a good bargainer, his words throwing the truth into people’s face despite their reluctance to listen. “Just one of us, yeah?”

You guessed having all of them in wouldn’t be too bad, knowing how much of a part you played in their little group of misfits and chaotic bunch. They’ve showed how much they cared for you prior to this, many times in and out of deployment, the drunken moments in a pub or in the solace of the Task Force’s own rec room. Despite your paranoid and fearful mind conjuring up many images and situations, you fond yourself unconsciously moving towards the door, your silent steps growing loud the closer you got to the metal knob. You flicked the lock off, letting it crack open. Light from the hall flooded in, peaking through your opened door, encompassing the towering figure of your Lieutenant, a sentry to your self-proclaimed cell, the protector of your broken mind.

“There you are, luv,” you could see the smile through his eyes, his warm browns showering you in silent affection, “Let me in?”

Letting him in was the hardest, yet easiest thing you’d ever done, welcoming him - another man’s fractured min - into your darkest moments, cheeks wet and lips bitten bloody, choking down your sobs. It couldn’t hurt to let them help, to let Price, Ghost, Kyle and Johnny in.

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