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nicsnort · 2 days ago

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Rule of Three

NSFW 18+ male incubus x female reader

Word Count: 4099

Sequel to Sex Therapist - highly recommend reading it before this one

Contains: Anal sex, vaginal sex, overstimulation, hypnosis/trance, praise kink, light cuckolding, demon sex, soul bond, oral sex

Your dreams have been haunted by pleasure, nearly driving you insane. You would give anything to see him again, even your soul.

You had been plagued with strange dreams since you had broken up with your boyfriend. The relationship counselor the two of you had gone to had initially done wonders - though you admit that meeting was a bit of a blur. However, after you had gotten out, the sex life between you and your boyfriend had improved drastically…sort of.

You were happy to give him a blowjob whenever he wanted, and you realized that you enjoyed it. But something was always missing. Even as your nose was pressed against his pubic hair and his jizz squirted down your throat, you found yourself wanting more - a bigger cock straining your mouth, bumps on the shaft to stimulate your tongue, enough cum that you could feel it burning in your stomach. Even so, you found yourself dripping wet after each blowjob, so you didn’t mind too much.

And best of all, he had started reciprocating oral sex with you, and he was okay at it. He could sometimes make you have a small orgasm. But even those were disappointing compared to what you could do yourself.

Still, you expanded your sexual repertoire. The two of you tried anal sex. After a few tries and another visit to the relationship counselor, you found yourself loving that as well, but still never enough to make you orgasm. Sometimes he would get you close to cumming, but you always needed just a bit more that he could never deliver.

He had become quite passionate during vaginal sex. You tried with all your might to enjoy it, but even compared to before, you found him lacking. All he did was use you like a sex doll to thrust into. So, you went back to the counselor again. Each of your three visits was a blur when you thought back to them, but after each one, some part of your sex life improved. You were more sensitive, always ready to fuck. Still, you wanted more.

Yet, even as you fucked more than you ever had in the past, your boyfriend didn’t seem content either. In fact, many of the times he fucked you, it was an angry fuck. Like he was trying to prove something or even punish you. And after a time, his continual failed attempts to make you cum were enough. You had to admit it - this relationship wasn’t working out.

That turned out to be the best decision you could have made. He had yelled at you when you broke it off. All of his insecurities about your sex life and his inability to find another job came out in a single moment. That was what this was all about. He didn’t feel “manly” enough because he couldn’t make you cum. He wanted you to do everything for him while making him feel like the provider without a job. You had slapped him across the face for daring to treat you like that and left him behind for good.

That is when the dreams started. A beautiful man whose face you could never quite remember. And pleasure. Endless pleasure.

You knew the dreams were always the same, even as the details slipped from your mind upon waking. And you always awoke with your pussy gushing, desperate to masturbate lest you lose your mind from need. Though you rode your toys, desperately thrust them in and out of you, and drained your vibrator’s battery several times, it was never enough. You needed something else. You needed more.

Thoughts of this man began to haunt your waking hours. You swore that any time you started to relax, you felt hands ghosting over you. Good girl. While sitting, you felt empty inside your pussy yearning for a cock. So needy. When all was quiet, you could hear echoes of a whisper. Call for me, pet.

You headed to bed, eager for your dreams to begin. As you lay on your bed, feeling your body relax, something felt different. This time, you would finally get what you wanted, you were sure.

Slipping into slumber, you soon found yourself on your knees, sucking a man’s cock while he sat on a chair. The cock of your dreams. The man of your dreams. You undressed before him and sat on his lap. He displayed your body to the watcher on the couch - your ex-boyfriend - and began to pleasure you. As he played with your body, he spoke truths in your ear.

“He could never make you come…He could never make you feel like I do.”

A mind-shattering orgasm without any insertion at all.

“I think I am going to keep you…but to keep you is not a choice I can make alone. And I do have a deal to maintain.” The man spoke to your ex-boyfriend. “As agreed, she will happily suck your cock now; given how eager she was, the fault certainly was with you. But know that she is still her own person, I cannot take away her free will. Everything she did and said was true to her soul; she sucked my cock because she wanted to. The trance merely freed her desires. If you cannot please and keep her, that is on you.”

The scene shifted. You were bent over, on your hands and knees. Slick fingers probed your ass, slowly working it open.

“Good girl, just relax. There we go. He was so rough to you.”

A hot, thick cock pressed against your oiled hole. It slid in inch by aching inch. You were so full. Then it moved. The ridges scraped your insides, but you felt no pain. The dream man behind you thrust with a steady rhythm. “Good girl. Good pet. Your ass is perfect for me.”

He lifted your torso so you could see your ex-boyfriend sitting on the couch again. He was not frozen this time. Instead, his cock was in his hand as he shamefully masturbated at the sight of another man fucking his girlfriend. You had reached the precipice before your orgasm already, but each thrust merely kept you there on the edge. As you desperately waited for permission to cum, the man fucking your ass locked eyes with your ex-boyfriend.

“You are back already and at her request. If you want to keep her, you must try harder to please her. Look at this face. Have you ever seen her with this face before?”

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool running down your chin. Ecstasy.

“Look at this perfect little pet. Such a good girl. She is ready to cum, but she is going to wait. Good girls wait to cum until they have permission. This good girl may cum when she feels my seed staining her insides.”

Knowing the goal made it all the worse. He kept up his steady thrusting. Uneager to reach his climax. Perfectly in control.

You were begging him in your mind. But each thrust slowed even those thoughts. Erasing them. Then, your mind was blank. All there was was the pleasure. “Good girl. No thoughts. Just pleasure.”

His hips sped up, and soon they stuttered against your ass. You felt him swell within you. The moment the corrupting seed met your insides, you came. Your muscles clenched tightly, drawing every ounce of cum from him. He held you tight against his body with his beautiful bat wings encircling you to stop you from collapsing and hurting yourself.

As you both came down from your high, he pressed another kiss against your ear and secretly whispered. “Once more, my pet, once more, and you can be mine.”

Another shift in your dream.

His claws dragged along your jaw as he caressed your face. “You came alone this time. Has he given up on you already?”

“No, I don’t know why…I just…” His thumb pressed against your lower lip, silencing you.

“I know, my pet. You felt called here. Your soul yearns for this. You listened to your desires. You are such a good girl.”

He removed your shirt. His fingers explored your flesh, pointed claws stimulating your skin. Like a dream within a dream, he undressed you. You were dripping wet when your final bit of clothing was removed. As you stood nude before him, he took your face in his hands again. You stared into his shimmering yellow eyes, feeling your body relax, and your thoughts grow sluggish.

“Magic works by the rule of three, pet. You have come to me of your own free will three times. My seed has marked your body twice. Here,” his thumb slid into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, “and here.” His tail wrapped around your body, and the spade slapped your ass gently. “Where do you want to feel my mark next?”

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, a strand of saliva hanging on before breaking, allowing you to speak. “My pussy, please. I want to feel your cock brand my cervix, your cum staining my womb.”

A deliciously devilish smile came to his face. “You have such a way with words, pet. It makes me want to spoil you. So, as such a good girl, you can have exactly what you want.”

He pulled you to the couch. At some point, he removed his clothes, if he was even wearing them in the first place and not just an illusion. The devil sat on the couch, pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs. Your pussy lips were spread, pressing against his hot, hard cock.

His fiery yellow eyes watched you closely. “Go on, my pet. You came here searching for pleasure, did you not? Find it.”

With that permission, you shook your hips, grinding up and down across his textured cock. The bumps and ridges of his member caught your clit, driving you towards the edge. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your breasts brushing against his chest. It was too much. A long moan poured from your lips as you came. It was a small orgasm but infinitely more satisfying than alone and leagues above the ones your ex-boyfriend occasionally gave you.

“Tsk. Tsk,” he scolded, “I did not give you permission to cum.”

Still panting from the orgasm, you looked at him with a pitiful, worried expression. But he did not look angry. He cupped your cheek and gave an understanding smile. “That is okay, even good girls can make mistakes…but mistakes must be corrected.”

In a flash, he pulled your arms behind your back, his tail wrapping around your wrists to hold them there. Grabbing your hips, he lined himself up with your sensitive, dripping hole. “Now, remember, my pretty little pet, do not cum without my permission. I do not want to truly punish you for disobeying me.”

He slammed your hips down. With supernatural strength, he manipulated your body, forcing you up and down on his cock at a punishing pace. Within moments, you were at the edge of orgasm once more. “Careful, pet, be a good girl now. Don’t think about how good it would feel to cum. Don’t think about how close you are. Don’t focus on every bump of my cock in your--”

You came. Your walls clenching helplessly on his cock. But he continued to force your hips up and down.

“Naughty. Naughty. Let us try again. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

You lost track of how many more times you failed. He drove you to the edge, and every time you were close to controlling your orgasm, he purposely pushed you over the edge - punishing you in the most delightful way. Your body was starting to give out. He released your wrists, allowing you to cling to him. Your sweat-covered body pressed against his chest. Your hips were moved on their own, rocking back and forth, keeping you right on the edge.

“There we go, pet. Just a bit longer. You are doing so well now.”

You wanted to beg. You wanted to apologize. But all you could do was pleasure yourself on his cock. A whimper left your throat. “You are delicious, my pet. Your sweet cunt almost made me spill my seed early. Do you know how hard that is for my kind?”

You whined. He pulled your head up to look you in the eyes. “Do you have one more in you? If I permitted you, could you cum for me one last time?”

You managed to nod. You could do it for him. You could cum one more time for him.

“Good girl. Make me cum. When you feel my cum inside of you, then you may cum.”

Spurred on by the finish line, your hips sped up. You pressed sloppy kisses to his shoulder and neck. Anything to make him cum. Anything for release. You heard his breath hitch. His fingers tightened on your flesh. Breath becoming ragged, he spoke again. “Good girl. Good girl. Just like that. I am going to cum deep inside of you. Just like you wanted my pretty pet. I am going to pour my cum into your womb, claim you as mine, because you are a good fucking girl!”

A growl of pleasure left his lips as his hot, sticky seed filled you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came once more. Even after all your previous orgasms, this one brought you higher than the last. Your body shook, your breath escaped you, and for a moment, you felt something more. A heat with you deeper than his burning seed. A fire carving its way across your very soul.

You were barely aware as he gathered you in his arms and pressed a cool glass of water against your lips. But you heard his voice. It captured your need to submit in its melodic timber. “Good girl. I have never eaten so well before. It is taking all my control not to consume you here and now.”

His long, forked tongue licked his lips with the temptation. “I will not. Because I want to keep you, and I want you to desire to be kept. You must give your whole self to me, my pet.”

Lowering his head, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You have given me your mind and your body. When your soul fully accepts that you are mine, call my name.”

Your eyes shot open as you awoke with a gasp; a name tumbled from your lips before any conscious thought could stop it. “Col’vanax.”

The darkness around you came alive. An invisible weight pressed upon your chest, freezing your body in place. From the darkness, you felt eyes on you, watching you, waiting.

You knew what he was. You clearly remembered every interaction with him. His true form burned into your mind. An incubus. A demon that fed on sexual energy and pleasure. A powerful corruptive force that was hunted across both realms. The most beautiful thing you had ever seen. The one who brought you so much pleasure.

Your conscious mind knew what this meant. To lay with an incubus had already corrupted your soul. Yet, you could still be saved if you denied him.

“Col’vanax.”

He had entranced you. Who was to say that what he had you do was what you truly desired? Yet, you knew it was. You did not doubt that it was. The fantasies you had always been worried about, had been ashamed of, he released them from you. If you summoned him, how would your life change? Would you even have a life? Would he devour your soul? Leave you an empty husk? Or would he whisk you away, never to be seen again?

Your nipples were taut, yearning to be touched. Your pussy drenched the sheets under you. Your mind replayed the memories of his glorious touch. There was still time to reject him. You could call the Wardens and get help from the clerics to purify you. Never feel that pleasure again…

Magic worked by the rule of three. You knew you could say no. There was no infernal compulsion. You were in complete control of yourself. All you had to do was not say his name again. All you had to do was give up everything your soul yearned for. “Col’vanax.”

“Good girl.” His melodic, perfect voice cooed from the darkness at the foot of your bed. You gazed down to see two glowing yellow eyes staring back at you. You could feel him smiling in the shadows.

The covers were ripped off you, and you felt the mattress sink around you as he climbed onto the bed. His body radiated heat. You could not see him in the darkness but could feel him there, smiling.

“My true name sounds so good on your lips, my pet. I have been waiting for you to summon me. Thank you.”

In the darkness, you reached up, your hands sliding across his bare chest. The more you had desired was here before you. You realized it was not just the pleasure you were missing but something deeper than that. It was only with him that your soul felt whole, and when separated, you could clearly feel the hole inside of you. Perhaps it had always been missing, and it was only upon meeting him that you realized it. Perhaps he had carved that part out of you. It didn’t matter now, now you were complete.

“Col’vanax,” you repeated once more in your realization. “I…”

Words failed you, but you needn’t finish the thought for him to understand. “I know. You shall never feel that emptiness again. My perfect submissive pet, we will do wonderful things together. Now, you have been a very, very good girl, so I think you deserve a reward…”

His hands dragged across your skin, his claws pressing down but not breaking the skin. “All you need to do is relax. Let yourself sink.”

Instantly, you felt your muscles let go. Your breathing evened as you began to fall into yourself. With each pass of his hands over your body, you fell further into relaxation. His tail dipped between your open legs rubbing back and forth across your clit. Up and down. Up and down.

Your breath was soon timed to the rhythm of his stroking. In and out. Up and down.

He lowered his mouth to your neck. His sharp fangs nibbled on you, his devious lips leaving marks upon your skin. His mouth had never touched your skin for so long. He had never truly given you a kiss, and now you knew why. It would have been completely unfair. The aphrodisiac saliva of his kind made each place his lips landed hypersensitive. Anything more than a single lick or a chaste kiss would have made you addicted to him. No longer would your choices to go to him or summon him have been of your free will.

His sharp fangs scraped your nipple as he took it into his mouth, sucking deeply. His tongue rolled around the sensitive bud, increasing its sensitivity tenfold. He switched his attention to your other breast. You had been brought to the edge of orgasm already. And there you stayed as he lathered his attention on you.

His tongue left a wet trail of saliva along your stomach as he moved down from your breasts to your dripping pussy. You whined as his tail stopped and removed itself. Yes, you wanted to cum, but you would rather be on the edge of orgasm than have that pleasure stop. “It is alright, my pet. In fact, since you have been such a good girl in summoning me, you may cum as much as you want.”

Lowering his mouth to your cunt he began to eat you out. It took only a few seconds from the moment his lips touched your quivering cunt for you to begin to orgasm. And begin was the correct word. Each lap of his tongue, every suck of his mouth, extended your orgasm. This was not a series of short orgasms; this was one that lasted for minutes.

Your hips shivered and bucked, but he held you in place. Your back arched. Your eyes rolled back in your head. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you panted. You were moaning, crying, screaming for more.

Higher and higher, he drove your body’s pleasure while your mind sunk deeper and deeper. You never knew this sort of pleasure was possible. All thoughts were driven from your mind. Everything was. Everything but him devouring you.

In the midst of your orgasm, you felt something else. Something tugged inside of you, straining to break free. It struggled and pulled in desperation. It was almost painful. If it had not been for the overwhelming pleasure it would be the most crushing agony. You did not want to feel anything but the pleasure…so you released it.

The orgasm ceased. Your body collapsed limply. You watched, as if detached from all control of your body, as Col’vanax lifted his head. His long, devilish tongue was wrapped around a fluttering light, finally allowing you to see his perfect, angelic, triumphant face. The light shone in his mouth briefly before disappearing down his gullet.

Mind erased.

Body empty.

Soul consumed.

Everything you were was his.

“Come here, my pretty pet.”

Your body moved, presenting your nude form before him. The room around you glowed a lascivious red. The place that you had once called your bedroom was gone. Instead, you were floating in a sea of pulsing, gentle red. You had never felt more at home.

His hand traveled the length of your arm and took your hand. Lifting it, he placed a chaste kiss on your fingers. His fingers threaded through yours, holding your hand like a lover. You watched strange markings appear across his shoulders and down his arms.

“Do you know what these marks mean, pet?” You shook your head. “Many would not. They are soul markings. Incubi and succubi develop them when they find a perfect match. As an incubus, I have spent my existence searching for a perfectly submissive partner, someone who was willing to surrender their whole self to me.”

“That sounds romantic.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps it is surprising that a species which feeds on sex is one of the few who have…what is the human conception? Soulmates.”

Col’vanax stepped forward, wrapping his wings around you tenderly. “Now I have you, my good girl, and you will be mine forever.”

Lowering his head, he pulled you into a kiss. Your first true kiss with him. Your heart soared, and fireworks went off in your chest. It was chaste. Loving. It was not meant to arouse only to communicate the deepest of emotions.

His tongue dipped into your mouth, and you felt a strange, pliable ball of lustful red ichor enter your mouth. Instinctually, you swallowed it.

Your incubus vanished, and you were alone in the vast pool of red light. No. Not alone. You were looking at yourself. Yourself, yet not yourself. An image of you with every flaw, every insecurity you had about your appearance gone. The perfect bodily version of you, how you had always dreamed of looking. Beautiful ruby skin, gorgeous golden eyes, delicate yet strong batwings, a long whip-like tail with a heart-shaped spade at the end, and two luxurious horns curving from your skull under your silken hair. You watched as, just like Col’vanax, this perfect form was marked with an intricate design. These were not on the shoulders and arms but spread just above your pubic hair.

Your soul stepped forward and reached out, and your mind embraced it, becoming one. This was you—the new you. Now, all you had to do was rejoin your body.

Once more, you awoke with a gasp. Col’vanax stared down at you with a smile on his face. The both of you lay in your bed together. You felt different. More alive than you had ever felt before. You could sense the people around you, safe and snug in their homes. Two doors down, a newlywed couple was exploring bondage. Across the street, a middle-aged woman was aroused by her romance book while her husband was silently masturbating to a massive orc camgirl in the other room. You licked your lips with your long, forked tongue. Sitting up, your wings stretched for the first time, and your tail flicked back and forth like a cat.

“How are you feeling, my newborn succubus?”

You pouted. “I’m hungry.”

He laughed and pulled you into a kiss. The spark of pleasure soothed your hunger for a brief moment. “Then let’s find you someone to eat.”

________________________________

Other Department of Monster Affairs works

Hello Neighbor - m!werewolf x f!reader, teratophilia, knotting, heat. One-shot.

After Party - m!Minotaur x f!reader, teratophilia, breeding, overstimulation.

Sweet Cream - m!Minotaur x f!reader, lactation, hucow, breeding overstimulation. Sequel to After Party.

For other works see my masterlist

#monster smut #incubus #incubus x reader #incubus x human #demon x human #demon kink #hypnok1nk #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x you #monster x reader #monster x human #teratophillia #department of monster affairs

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: each of you—especially spencer—knew that the words let's split up never ended well. yet, they still escaped his lips, something he would regret for the rest of his days. now, held captive, you must decide whether to place your hope in being rescued by the team or to start a psychological game with the unsub and escape on your own.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x bau!female reader, kidnapping, psychological and physical torture, captivity, bloodletting, reader attempting to commit s (to end their suffering), split narrative, performing a ritual, mention of sexual abuse, everything being broadcasted live by the unsub, incestous relationship, sad but not tragic ending

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

𝐚/𝐧: i admit, there’s not much romance in this, and yep, probably the freakiest shit i've written so far. a slightly modified request from an anon—really hope you like it. i hate how i described this investigation. please overlook the absolute lack of logic at times (especially in the beginning) (in my defense i've never kidnapped anyone lol). oh, almost forgot, happy valentine's day (to those who celebrate) <3

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/ˌmetəˈmɔːfəsɪs/ a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one

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You took a step back when your friend threw herself at you with a joyful squeal, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Happy, happy birthday, my dearest!" Penelope exclaimed.

"My dearest?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. A wide smile stretched across your face as you remained in her firm embrace, breathing in the pleasant scent of her sweet perfume. "Wait till Morgan hears that..."

"I heard," a deep voice sounded behind you. "But just for today, I'll let it slide. Happy birthday, kid."

Turning around, you spotted Morgan and Prentiss stepping out of the office elevator, each holding an identical cup of coffee. Both had smiles on their faces, and both pulled you into tight hugs while Garcia and Rossi were providing a cappella, completely off-key performance of Happy Birthday

In seconds your hands were full—two gift bags and a box, and you hadn’t even managed to take off your coat yet. You thanked everyone with genuine warmth and gratitude but didn’t want to drag out the moment too long. It was still morning before work officially started, and you were already running later than usual. JJ had practically begged you to stop by first thing because your godson, Henry, simply couldn’t wait to give you his gift and wish you a happy birthday.

Either way, you had already been hugged by everyone—except…

“Come back in five minutes,” Hotch instructed the two of you, nodding at the rest of the team. “We need to get started on the case.”

And just like that, you and Reid were left alone—a surprisingly thoughtful decision from your boss. You were just friends, of course. Just like the rest of the team…okay, maybe a little closer than that.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, watching with a soft smile as Garcia’s massive gift nearly slipped from your grasp. True to his word, he carefully took it from you and placed it on your desk with the kind of caution usually reserved for handling evidence.

“Are you doing this because you’re an altruist,” you teased, “or because you’re afraid Pen would murder you if her present got damaged on your watch?”

“Why do you assume she’d only murder me?”

“Because I have a birthday,” you said matter-of-factly. “It’s weird to hurt someone on their birthday, don’t you think? Pretty sure even savoir vivre has something to say about that.”

Reid let out a short laugh, but whatever he was about to say next seemed to get caught in his throat. Under different circumstances, he probably would have kept talking, but time wasn’t on your side. In five minutes, you’d both have to return to a world filled with kidnappings, murders, and violence.

“So…” he started, briefly glancing down at his shoes before slowly reaching into the pocket of his blazer. “Oh—first and foremost, happy birthday. I know you’ve already heard that about a hundred times today, but…”

“But not from you.”

“Happy birthday,” he exhaled, almost nervously.

You frowned slightly, wondering why he seemed so worked up over this.

“Sorry, I just…I spent a lot of time trying to figure out if you’d like this gift, and I really wanted to see your reaction. So much so that I kind of forgot to actually say happy birthday.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, I hope that…”

He stopped short at the look on your face.

For a moment, you just stared at what he was holding, lips slightly parted, completely silent. Then, slowly, a delighted smile spread across your face.

“You hope I’ll like it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “Tickets to Heathers? Spence, of course I love it! You know how much I love musicals, and oh my god, I wanted to see this so badly…”

You opened your arms to hug him—but then hesitated.

You knew he was one of those people who tended to avoid physical contact, and his comfort had always been your priority. Even after all these years of friendship, you had only truly hugged a handful of times. And by truly, you meant something more than the brief, passing embraces that came with birthdays or other celebrations.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. But instead, he simply gave a small nod—and wrapped his arms around you. The corners of your lips lifted again—though, honestly, you weren’t sure they’d ever really dropped. Not that he could see it, not with your hands resting against the fabric of his sweater and his chin lightly hovering over your shoulder.

You let out a soft sigh as you pulled away, reluctant but aware that time was chasing you both. Besides, you had something to show him.

There was a quiet tension in the air as you slowly stepped back, just barely out of his arms. Spencer watched intently as you reached into your coat pocket.

“Henry gave me this this morning,” you said, handing him the homemade card your godson had made. A small, knowing smile tugged at Spencer’s lips even before he took it, his gaze dropping to the stick figure that was supposed to be you. “He said I’m his favorite aunt in the whole world,” you added, a playful lilt in your voice. “But I’m not supposed to tell Uncle Spence because it might make him sad.”

He placed a dramatic hand on his chest, his eyes flickering between the card and you, back and forth.

"That would have really hurt my feelings," he began, "if he hadn't told me the exact same thing on my birthday."

You burst into laughter. With a small nod, you gestured that you should head back to the rest of the team. Walking side by side, you made your way in the right direction.

"Should we tell JJ that there's a little liar growing up under her roof?" you asked along the way.

"Well, the lying phase is actually a natural stage of child development," he mused. "A lack of distinction between fantasy and reality, a desire to please adults—there are various reasons. So I think we can spare her that particular worry. At least he's empathetic."

You had already reached the door to the briefing room, but before either of you could grab the handle, Spencer stepped forward slightly, stopping you in your tracks. You looked at him, a bit surprised by the gesture.

"And by the way..." he began, his tone drastically different from the one you'd been using just moments ago. You saw him swallow, carefully choosing his words. "Are...are you okay? The case we're working on...it seems to be affecting you a lot. You have dark circles under your eyes."

You had the urge to scoff defensively and sarcastically thank him for the compliment. You probably would have with anyone else—but with him, you never felt the need to hide your worries. It was easier to admit to them. Easier, but not easy.

You took a deep breath, lowering your gaze as you nodded.

"I just really want to catch these people," you admitted quietly, truthfully. "It's been going on for too long. They've hurt too many girls..." You clenched your eyes shut, avoiding his gaze, which was filled with concern. You nodded toward the door in front of you. "Come on."

He watched you for a brief moment before sighing and stepping aside to let you go first.

Soon all of you were seated around the long table, noses buried in the case files. Penelope was briefing you on a new discovery related to the case you were working on—the one that, as Reid had noted, had been keeping you up at night. She kept her gaze averted from the image on the screen, never able to handle such sights well. And the body of a young woman, drained of every last drop of blood, was particularly disturbing.

"Just like in the previous cases, abandoned seven days after the abduction," she announced, clasping her hands at stomach level. "I’ve been tracking them—I mean, really staring at my screen for hours, even more than usual—but our twins haven’t streamed a single broadcast since then."

"We've entered the transition phase," Hotch said quietly, though his rough voice, as always, carried enough weight to reach even you and Reid, seated farthest from him. "Their ritual failed. They disposed of the body and now need time to prepare for the next one. Restocking supplies, medications, medical equipment."

"This is when we should strike," Prentiss said, leaning both elbows on the table. "They're out of their hideout, likely making transactions, meeting with suppliers. It's all illegal, of course, but the underground market, or at least part of it is under our surveillance…"

This case was difficult.

Usually, you followed a certain pattern. First, there was the crime. Then, piece by piece, you uncovered the missing fragments of a complex puzzle, eventually identifying the unsub. Or unsubs, as in this case. When dealing with an abduction, the final step was typically locating the victim’s holding site.

And that was exactly where you were stuck—on this fucking last step—for yet another week.

In the meantime, one of the unsubs had launched a career as a streamer, broadcasting their actions—at least fragments of them—on the dark web. The streams started at irregular hours, lasted for inconsistent amounts of time, and seemed almost spontaneous. He had to believe that he would attract psychos like himself and his sister—people who would be fascinated by the process.

As strange as it sounded, moving the crime online had actually filled you with a twisted sense of hope.

You thought it would make everything simple. Garcia would trace their location, or maybe, by watching the streams, you’d catch some clue that would lead you right to them.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He only ever showed you that one room—a space resembling a hospital ward that could have been anywhere. It could have been hidden in the basement of any house in the country, inside some abandoned warehouse, on a remote farm miles away from civilization. Anywhere.

The only thing that had changed was that now you could see the victims' faces. You could watch the hope drain from their eyes as they realized no one was coming to save them.

And that thought drove you to madness.

How you even uncovered their identities and names was an even more complicated story. It all started with an offhand theory Reid had muttered under his breath—one that no one had paid much attention to at first, but which later escalated into the truth.

You had already known there were two unsubs. Their names were Lavinia and Leon Schuyler—thirty-three-year-old twins. Well, technically, triplets.

Piecing together fragments of their lives, you discovered they had another sister, Lydia. The three of them had spent their childhood deeply bonded, drifting from one dysfunctional foster home to another. Since the third sibling wasn’t involved in their crimes, you concluded she had recently died. That theory was reinforced by the fact that their victims all resembled her—and that during the streams, Leon addressed them by one name Lydia.

And, once again, through analysis, you realized what all of this was leading to.

The twins believed they could bring their sister back to life.

You had all of this. But until you had their location, it was as if you had nothing at all.

"Prentiss is right," Derek announced, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. "Our best chance is to track them now, while they’re searching for their next victim. Because we all agree there will be another, right?"

He wasn’t looking for confirmation—everyone knew cases like this didn’t just end.

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "That’s our job for today," he began. "Not just today—we keep looking until we find them. We need to reach out to our informants, track down their supplier for drugs and medical equipment. And we need to pinpoint the location where the transaction might take place."

With a quiet sigh, you rubbed your forehead, fully aware that the next few hours would be pure informational chaos. But you were completely prepared to dive into it—anything to finally bring this case, the one that had been keeping you up at night, to an end.

In a perfect scenario, that would happen before another victim was taken.

♊︎

"Guess this isn’t how you planned to spend your birthday evening?" Reid asked.

With your hands resting on the steering wheel, you gave a small shrug. He might not have even seen the gesture in the dimly lit car, the empty road ahead reflecting the brief flashes of headlights cutting through the night.

"I wasn't in the mood to celebrate anyway," you admitted.

Under different circumstances, you might have let your teammates drag you to a bar or invited them over, picking up a cheap cake from the first bakery you passed on the way home. But from the moment you came across the information about a human blood sale taking place that night in an abandoned ruin—once a shopping mall—you all knew there would be no chance to catch your breath anytime soon.

You were almost certain that the twins would be one of the parties involved in the transaction.

At first, it filled you with doubt. Human blood? Why would they need to buy it when they were kidnapping all these women for that very purpose? Every body had been drained of it—whatever ritual they believed they were performing revolved entirely around blood.

"Maybe it's a form of experimentation," Reid had tried to explain a few hours earlier at the office, his furrowed gaze fixed on the board cluttered with all the data you'd been compiling. He paused, thinking. "Our unsubs are deeply delusional. They believe their actions will bring their sister back to life. So far, they've tried twice and failed. But instead of admitting that what they're doing is utterly irrational and illogical—because, of course, a blood transfusion into a dead body won't resurrect it—they'd rather blame the process itself, look for errors in their methods. Buying blood allows them to practice, to refine their approach without wasting what they truly desire—the blood of their victims."

"Actually, the fact that I'll finally get to see Heathers soon totally makes up for having to do... this on my birthday," you added after a moment of silence, gesturing toward your bulletproof vest.

Spencer didn’t respond—he was listening intently to Hotch’s voice coming through the car radio. A brief summary of what was unfolding at the ambush site.

You had your doubts about it, ones you kept to yourself. This was your best shot; you had to believe it would work. There hadn’t been enough time to prepare. You didn’t even have up-to-date blueprints of the place.

The abandoned building was in such a state of decay that most people driving past probably had no idea it had once been a shopping mall. The floor was coated in dust and shards of shattered storefront glass. Water from a leaking roof had seeped into the walls, leaving behind dark stains. Plastic tables from the long-defunct food court lay overturned and filthy. From what you’d managed to gather, a lot of people from the local underworld—mostly dealers—had passed through here at least once in their careers.

You didn’t feel that you were properly prepared, nor did you like your role in all of this. Your job was to circle the area in an unmarked car, providing backup in case your unsub somehow managed to slip away. That meant you had no direct view of the ambush and had to rely entirely on the descriptions and updates from your teammates. So far, though, no one had shown up.

"Hm, Spence?" you suddenly said into the space between you, a little uncertain. You kept your eyes on the road as you drove, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head questioningly. You fell silent for a moment, trying to keep your tone casual. "I got two tickets from you…and, you know, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to, well…see it with me?"

You had no idea why you suddenly felt so tense. After all, you were friends, and friends went places together sometimes. Just the two of them.

"Are you sure?" Reid asked, making you shift in surprise. Was he going to say no? He quickly added, "I mean, I don’t want you to think I expected you to invite me just because I gave you the tickets…It’s a gift, and if you’d rather take someone else, a friend or…"

"I want to take you," you interrupted, shifting your gaze to him.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the glint of your eyes visible in the dark car. Spencer gave a small, gentle smile.

"She's here. Alone. We're waiting in position until she goes inside," Morgan's voice informed you.

You both straightened up, as if brought back down to earth. The sense of satisfaction, even excitement, that had grown within you after he agreed suddenly took a backseat. You remained silent, listening for further instructions. Sitting there in the car, you felt utterly useless. She’s here. Just Lavinia? What about her brother? Did she come alone? Had they suspected something was off and decided not to risk being caught together? Your breath caught in your chest for several long minutes, stretching into a quarter of an hour.

“Fuck”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Fuck! She got away. She was alone, and she still managed to slip through…there must be a hidden exit in the warehouse…”

Reid brought the radio to his lips.

“We’re nearby—we might be able to catch her. Did she come on foot? If so, her car could be parked somewhere close, maybe with her brother waiting. She’s probably heading straight there.” A faint crease formed between his brows, the mark of complete focus. “Garcia, you got me? Check the maps. Find anywhere they might have stopped…”

“How the fuck did she slip through?” you hissed under your breath, your heart hammering against your bulletproof vest.

You weren’t there—you had no right to judge. But for god’s sake, it was one woman against a trained FBI team!

“Guys, I think I’ve got something!” Penelope’s tense whisper crackled through the radio. “An abandoned parking lot, I’ll guide you there…”

You shoved your anger and confusion aside for the moment, yanking the wheel sharply as you turned toward the location Garcia had given. Cracks in the concrete had been overtaken by tufts of grass, something you noticed the moment you stepped out of the car, the door slamming shut behind you. It was nighttime, and darkness sprawled between the trees ahead, swallowing up what little visibility you had. The entire area was unlit, making it hard to see much—except for the single parked car standing out in the gloom.

You and Reid didn’t need to discuss your next move. A brief exchange of glances was enough—a silent reminder to stay cautious. Weapons drawn, you approached the vehicle from opposite sides, moving in sync without a word. You expected to see the face of the man you had been staring at endlessly over the past few days of the investigation. You hoped to find him in the driver’s seat, to yank him out with a firm pull, slam him against the hood, and cuff his wrists as his face met the cold metal.

But the car’s interior was empty.

“Damn it,” you muttered, lowering your gun. “Is this even their car? Maybe we came here for nothing…”

“Let’s find out,” Reid murmured, scanning the area cautiously before tugging on the surprisingly unlocked front door. His brows lifted—he seemed just as surprised as you.

You circled around the vehicle to join him on the same side, resting a hand on the open door as you watched him pull on a pair of gloves. He reached for the glove compartment, likely expecting to find some documents inside.

“Nothing,” he sighed after a long moment, disappointment lacing his voice.

He turned his face toward you, his tense jaw easing as he parted his lips to say something else.

Then everything was drowned out by the sharp crack of gunfire. One shot. Then another. Bullets slammed into the hood of the car with a metallic clang.

It all happened too fast.

You spun around, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness—and landing on her. Blonde hair wild around her face, cheeks flushed from a desperate sprint.

Her gun was raised. Her finger tight on the trigger.

And you.

Most of your body shielded behind the open car door.

Most of it.

But not your head.

Then—Reid’s hands gripping your waist. Yanking you down.

The bullet shattered the window, glass exploding around you. Instinctively, you both ducked, heads low as sharp fragments rained down.

Curled up together, arms tangled, you locked eyes—both of you breathing hard, lips parted in shock. It had only been seconds, but in his gaze, that raw flash of fear stretched endlessly.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, gripping onto the solid warmth of his body as the world tilted. The ringing in your ears was deafening, the gunshot echoing in your skull, stretching time unbearably—like a warning of the next shot to come.

But it didn’t.

And when another second passed. Then another—

You moved.

Ignoring Reid’s sharp inhale, his hand reaching to hold you back, you pushed up onto your feet. The flashlight beam managed to catch Lavinia for a brief moment before she disappeared entirely into the stretch of trees between you. You couldn't let her escape and make it back to their hideout, the one you had been struggling to locate for so long.

Following her trail, you shot across the parking lot like an arrow. Reid was a fraction slower to react, but he wasn’t about to let you go after her alone. You could hear his footsteps behind you as you ran forward with determination, nearly tripping more than once over scattered rocks and branches along the forest path. You knew the flashlight was giving away your position, but you kept it on, scanning the surroundings for one of the unsubs.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air. As if the trees had swallowed her whole, even though the narrow, mostly overgrown path led only forward. You stopped, desperately looking around. You had no idea how far you had run, but your breath had become uneven, despite your excellent physical condition as an FBI agent. You couldn't accept the fact that she had slipped away from you twice, that she would soon meet up with her brother and together start planning the abduction of another victim…

Reid's hands reached for yours to turn off the flashlight you were clutching. In one moment, his face was right in front of yours, perfectly lit with squinted eyes, and in the next, it disappeared. You could still sense his presence just in front of you, his heavy breathing when he spoke.

"We have to..." he started in a slightly hoarse, quiet voice.

"We have to catch her," you interrupted through clenched teeth. You pulled away, moving forward again, but then he grabbed your wrist tightly.

"This is pointless," he replied, to which you immediately snorted in response. You wanted to argue, but then his finger landed on your lips, stopping you from speaking. "It's pointless for both of us to chase her like this," he explained, finally calming his breath. "Give me the flashlight, I'll go on alone. You head back to the car and take the other route. The forest is small; she'll have to come out on the other side soon. And above all, notify the team about everything."

His hand pulled back only after he finished explaining the plan. At that point, you no longer had the desire to protest. Everything he said made sense, even though something deep inside you screamed that you shouldn’t split up. You ignored it and forced yourself to nod. You handed him your flashlight and, after a last exchange of glances, you jogged back.

“Spence,” you turned suddenly after taking only a couple of steps. He also looked at you, clearly surprised. “Be careful.”

Reid nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you. “Be careful too. We’ll meet up in a bit.”

It was only when you were running back to the car that you realized just how far your pursuit had gone. Anxiety clung to your back and didn’t let go, even as you emerged from between the gnarly trees. You gripped your gun tightly and tucked it back into your waistband as you sat behind the wheel of your car, not even pausing to catch your breath. Without hesitation, you leaned over to the radio, but before you could get a word out, something flashed in the corner of your eye.

You froze at the sight of the gun aimed at the driver’s side window.

You didn’t even fully turn to the side, you didn’t wait. You knew what was expected of you. With slow, almost rigid movements, you opened the door and stepped outside. You dragged out the process, analyzing the stance of the man, the second of your unsub suspects. He wasn’t a tall man, and after reviewing his history, you knew he had no significant experience with weapons or combat skills you had mastered long ago.

You almost smiled when you managed to use the element of surprise, grabbing his hand and redirecting the gun to the side. The shot rang out.

Leon Schuyler hissed with satisfaction, as if he had expected it all along. Then, before you could slam your knee into his groin, another sound escaped his lips. It was possible you had misheard it, but it sounded very much like a goodnight.

And after that, a sharp needle of a syringe pierced your neck with precision.

♊︎

It wasn’t until morning that Spencer began to grasp what had actually happened.

And even then, not fully. He felt as if he were blankly staring at the script of a play—one whose plot and themes filled him with such deep discomfort that he wanted nothing more than to leave the theater without so much as murmuring an apology to the people he passed. Yet at the same time, his entire body was nailed to that rough seat, his head immobilized, unable to look away. He wanted to run onto the stage and shout, enough, to put an end to it all—but he had no such power.

Who did?

The ambush for the twins had been set around midnight. About an hour later, they had both taken off after the fleeing woman. Then they had split up.

He didn’t remember much after that—not until five in the morning, when the entire team finally stopped scouring the area, clinging to the desperate hope that they might stumble upon the unsub by sheer accident. For the first time, Spencer felt so detached from the passage of time that even when he looked at his watch, the position of the hands made no real sense to him.

Hotch had announced that they needed to return to the office. To regroup. To think carefully about their next move.

They were the first to arrive—Spencer trailing behind Hotch more like a shadow than an actual participant in events. Others followed, one by one. Shaken. Furious. Devastated. But most of all, still bewildered, still unable to accept what had happened.

The sun had begun to rise, but even that seemed slower than usual, reluctant to banish the wretched darkness still clinging to these walls.

Spencer realized he was staring blankly out the window instead of using his so-called genius to find a solution. His mind felt empty, and the shame of it hit him like a physical blow, followed by something even more tangible.

A pair of hands shoved against his chest, forcing him backward.

“JJ…”

Derek was between them in an instant, stepping in to hold her back.

She froze, staring at her own hands as if surprised by what they had just done. Then she clenched them tightly across her chest, her gaze locked onto Spencer, raw and overflowing with emotion.

“How could you…how could you even suggest splitting up?” Her voice trembled, her head shaking in disbelief. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. She had been the last to arrive, the one who stayed out searching the longest—desperate, frantic, chasing down any possible lead that could tell her where they had taken her best friend, the godmother of her son. “You know this never ends well, Spencer. You know that. You should have known that…”

"Enough" Emily appeared beside them, gently wrapping her arms around JJ’s shoulders.

JJ slumped, a single tear glistening in her eye for the first time.

"This isn’t helping," Emily said softly. "We need to focus on finding her as quickly as possible. They… they don’t kill their victims. Not right away. We still have a chance…"

"They don’t kill their victims," JJ repeated blankly, wiping her eye with a stiff movement. She didn’t look at any of them. "They just keep them locked up for days, drain their blood, and throw them away like garbage."

She took a breath.

"I need to see Penelope."

She tore herself from Emily’s grasp and walked away without looking back.

Her words lingered, filling the space, stretching the silence into something unbearable.

Spencer felt like he might throw up if he even tried to swallow

By accident, his gaze met Emily’s. Her brown eyes were surprisingly gentle.

He looked away.

Facing JJ’s fury had been easier—it was just a fraction of the hatred he felt toward himself. But he couldn’t stand any attempt to soften just how badly he had fucked up. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, before realizing just how meaningless it would be. What would his apology change? The only thing he could do at that moment was pull himself together and find her.

“I need to focus,” he said, his throat so dry the words barely made it out. He wanted to leave the room, to be back among the case files, to lose himself in analysis and overlapping thought patterns, to check everything—literally everything.

But then Penelope appeared in the doorway, the color drained completely from her face.

“Guys, you need to see this…” she choked out.

For a second, everyone froze—until, led by Spencer, they rushed toward her office.

"Just like in the previous cases, I can’t trace this transmission," Penelope explained frantically, nearly running beside him on her high heels. They burst into the dimly lit room full of screens, where JJ was already inside—motionless. She was biting her thumb, staring at one of the monitors in a trance. "They’re using satellite internet, masking the signal, and constantly jumping between servers..."

Behind them, Prentiss let out a strangled sound.

The whole thing was being streamed via a handheld camera, mostly fixed on one point—the face of their teammate. It seemed to be set down on something, maybe a table, because if someone were holding it, the frame would be shaking.

Hotch stepped in as close as possible, his eyes shutting for a brief moment. He was reliving it all over again. Once more, one of them had been taken, and the rest were forced to watch, helpless.

But if Tobias Hankel had left behind anything remotely useful, it was that they knew how to handle this.

Silently, painfully, they all gathered around Garcia, absorbing the footage—no, the live feed.

"Is recording this really fucking necessary?" a woman's voice snapped—it belonged to Lavinia.

Spencer's mind flickered with the image of her face—those empty green eyes staring down the barrel of a gun aimed directly at them. Her brow furrowed. She had no visible injuries on her face. She was lying on a stark white bed, the kind that looked like it belonged in a hospital, covered by an equally white blanket up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest anymore—just a loose nightgown that ended at her elbows. Her eyes were half-lidded, blinking slowly—probably just waking up.

"We already talked about this. It is," her brother replied. "What are you doing?"

Lavinia stepped into the frame. They weren’t wearing masks, weren’t bothering to hide their identities—fully aware that law enforcement already knew their names.

One of her hands clamped down on the captive’s, pulling it toward her with little care before pricking the tip of one finger.

Confusion rippled through everyone watching. Spencer might have rushed to explain if not for the fact that he couldn’t force a single word out. He couldn’t even look away.

"I'm checking her blood type, what else?" she scoffed. "You kidnapped her without running it by me, and you should know that if this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her."

"Pay attention to the way they speak to each other," Hotch started, bracing a hand against the desk. "There's tension—some kind of conflict…"

"Hotch," Spencer cut in, his eyes shut tightly. Nausea churned in his stomach. Keeping his eyes closed was the only way to stay on his feet.

Lavinia's words pounded against his skull on repeat. If this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her.

"…That's a good thing. It means they're less coordinated, and it's more likely they'll make a mistake..."

"Hotch," he tried again.

This time, it was almost a plea.

"…We should—"

"She’s AB Rh+."

Hotch finally turned to look at him. So did the rest.

They froze—silent, motionless—not because they didn’t understand what it meant, but because they refused to accept it.

AB Rh+, a blood type that could only be transfused to someone with the same.

All the previous victims had type A blood.

I’m not wasting our time on her.

Prentiss sank into the nearest chair, as if her knees had simply given out beneath her.

So this was how it was going to end?

Before they could do anything to help her? Before he could even come up with a single idea on how to save her?

A single tear slipped down Penelope’s cheek. She didn’t even try to wipe it away.

“Let me check,” Leon, the male unsub, suddenly offered. “Go turn the heat up. Even I’m cold, and I’ve got a jacket on.”

His sister hesitated for a moment before she agreed.

Spencer finally opened his eyes—not to torture himself with the helplessness on his colleagues’ faces, but to force his gaze onto the screen. He fixed his eyes on her half-conscious face, searching for any sign of understanding. Did she get it? Had she already connected the dots?

Breathing started to hurt.

He wanted so badly to apologize. It wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe—maybe—it would dull the ache.

Him. Spencer Reid. And his stupid idea to split up.

He had sent her back to the car.

He had sent her to die.

That thought was dangerous, but maybe it was a good thing that the end was so close. That she wouldn’t have to endure days of suffering, uncertainty, and fear. He knew that feeling. He knew it all too well—praying for his own death when the pain became unbearable when fear and exhaustion drained the last of his strength. He didn’t want her to go through that.

He didn’t want her to go through any of this.

But that…that especially.

"And?" Lavinia returned to the room after a long moment.

"Well, what can I say? I’ve got a good eye," her brother said lightly. "O Rh-, a universal donor. We couldn’t have asked for a better match. You know what this means? That this time, we might finally succeed."

Everyone exchanged glances, utterly confused.

“Spencer…” JJ looked at him for the first time since their argument. “You said…you yourself said that she—”

“Because she is,” he interrupted. “He lied.”

Prentiss snapped her head up, a spark of hope flickering in her eyes. Spencer didn’t share her optimism. He did feel some relief, that much was true. But he was painfully aware that this wasn’t over. The nightmare was only beginning, and it was up to them to end it—before it was too late.

♊︎

You were afraid to be afraid.

Absurd—you were well aware of that. But ever since you woke up in that hospital-like room, hooked up to an EEG and an IV, with a pulse oximeter clipped to your finger, your thoughts had focused solely on one thing. Not panicking. Calmness gave you a sense of control. Of course, you had none whatsoever—you were entirely at the mercy of two lunatics who believed they could bring someone back to life. But if they could be delusional, then so could you.

You knew this room from the recordings. For the longest time, you couldn’t determine where exactly it might be located. Was it a repurposed basement? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? Even now, being here in person, you couldn’t say for sure.

The moment you were left alone, you seized the opportunity to unhook yourself from all the machines and pressed your ear against the wall.

Once, your team had found a victim’s location by identifying the sound of a plane taking off in the background of a ransom call. You hoped for something similar to happen now. But you quickly realized the grey walls were lined with soundproofing foam. The floor, covered in rubber, absorbed footsteps completely. You didn’t even hear anyone approaching until a flat palm struck you across the face so hard that you collapsed back onto the bed.

Lavinia was ridiculously strong.

“If you get up without permission again, I’ll cuff you to the damn bed,” she said, tossing a bottle of water onto the mattress beside you. “Drink. You’ll get food when you do something for me.”

"As if I have anywhere to run," you muttered under your breath, reluctantly reaching for the water. "What do you want me to do? What time is it?"

Every time one of the twins visited you, you asked for the time. You needed to know how long you had been there. But with the constant doses of sedatives they were giving you, you couldn’t even estimate it.

Deep inside, you felt like it had been no more than a day.

The others had been kept for seven days before…

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about the others if you wanted to hold on to what was left of your sanity.

“Good night,” Lavinia muttered, messing with the IV drip.

“But you said I had to do something…” You frowned in confusion.

The blonde shrugged. She was wearing a green coat with fur on the hood. Both she and her brother always came to see you dressed warmly, even though the temperature in your little prison was relatively comfortable.

They had changed you into a thin nightgown that ended just above your knees and at your elbows, but curled up under the blanket, you were relatively warm.

That led you to one conclusion—wherever you were, the rest of the building wasn’t as well-heated. It was cold enough that they needed extra layers.

Whatever was in the IV worked.

You woke up on the floor. And freezing. Oh God, it was so cold. Your entire body immediately started shaking.

When you tried to push yourself up at your own sluggish pace, someone simply yanked you upright, like pulling a vegetable from the ground. You hissed in pain, instinctively trying to push the woman away, but all that did was earn you another hit.

Lavinia didn’t hold back.

The previous victims hadn’t been beaten this badly, so you assumed she particularly disliked the fact that her brother had chosen to kidnap you.

Leon, unlike her, didn’t hit you.

He just kept shoving the camera in your face.

Honestly, you preferred a busted lip and bruises over the fact that your team was seeing what was happening to you.

That awareness hurt a thousand times more than any torture ever could.

You managed to take a look around this new room before you were shoved toward the bed.

Unlike yours, it didn’t look like a mad doctor’s operating room but rather an ordinary, slightly old-fashioned bedroom. Dark wooden floors, a wardrobe with ornate handles in the corner, no windows—just like your room. Bottle-green walls.

Your gaze finally fell on the bed, and you barely managed to choke back a scream.

Suddenly, you understood why it was so unbearably cold in the room.

In front of you lay the body of a woman, her eyes closed, but her face was so unnaturally blue that you could never have believed she was merely sleeping. If not for the fact that she had been dead for—what you estimated to be—several weeks, she would have been identical to Lavinia.

Only after the initial shock of the sight wore off did her name come back to you.

Lydia.

The last of the triplets. The one who had died. The one they were trying to bring back with their…ritual.

As an FBI agent and profiler, you were accustomed to seeing dead bodies—but this one unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite rationalize.

Lavinia approached the corpse and smiled down at it with an affection so genuine, so reverent, that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of smile only mothers gave their children. Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lydia’s cold, gray cheek.

The dead woman’s short blonde hair fanned out across the pillow like a halo. Her hands were folded neatly atop the blanket, eerily reminiscent of someone in prayer. You were shaking, and it probably wasn’t just because of the cold.

"From now on, you will take care of our sister twice a day," Lavinia began, opening the drawer of the bedside table. She took out a hair comb, a bottle of some liquid, and a silk cloth. "Brush her hair and wipe her body."

As she spoke, she demonstratively rolled up one of Lydia’s sleeves. She was dressed in a nightgown similar to yours, but with lace at the collar and long sleeves reaching down to her wrists. You couldn’t suppress a shudder at the sight of her exposed skin. You were trembling too much from the cold for Lavinia to notice.

Lydia’s veins were dark. The blood transfusions into her lifeless body had caused it to clot. Small lumps had formed where the blood had thickened, and her arms were covered in scars and puncture marks.

“W-why do I have to do this?” you asked, clenching your teeth to stop them from chattering.

Lavinia shrugged as she wiped her sister’s skin with the cloth.

“Someone has to take care of her,” she said. “By doing this, you’re building a bond with her. Here, try it. Just be gentle.”

For a moment, you just stared at her. You were now certain—absolutely certain—that both Lavinia and Leon had crossed the threshold of madness and were living in a world where logic held no place.

Her gaze hardened as she shoved the cloth into your hands. It almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You looked down at the body and hesitantly wiped its surface…a violent gag reflex hit you so hard that you staggered.

You heard a contemptuous scoff.

“If you throw up on her, you have no idea what I’ll do to you,” she warned.

This was sick. Sick, sick, sick.

Your breath caught in your chest—you couldn’t look at Lydia, laid out in bed as if merely asleep. Taking care of her as if she were alive. But another warning glance and the flash of a weapon beneath Lavinia’s coat forced you to keep going. You started wiping down each of her limbs, one by one.

She was a small woman, barely any weight to her, and yet it felt like the task stretched into eternity.

Sick, sick, sick.

When you were done, a comb was shoved into your hand. Its teeth were wide-set, meant to avoid damaging the delicate hair of a corpse. Lavinia kept hissing softer through gritted teeth every few seconds.

Sick.

You forced yourself to set the comb down calmly instead of flinging it away like it burned you. Following instructions, you reached for Lydia’s hands, gently folding them back into the same position as before. As you did, your gaze lingered on her wrists for a long, drawn-out moment. The deep, jagged wounds. So that’s how she died? Suicide?

Lavinia stabbed you with a syringe.

♊︎

You lay in bed, your body still trembling.

You weren’t cold anymore, yet you curled up under the blanket. Just as Lavinia had warned, she forced you to do it again a few hours later. Taking care of Lydia’s body now dictated when morning came and when night fell. Not once had you fallen asleep on your own—there were always the drugs, injected mostly when they needed to move you to another room. You wondered why you couldn’t just walk there yourself.

Not that you would have been able to sleep anyway. You made sure not to close your eyes. When you did, your mind conjured sick visions—of the corpse lying right beside you, feeding off your blood, slowly consuming you the way mold devours fresh fruit.

You were afraid to be afraid, yet fear was beginning to take hold of you.

You were still searching for a way out of all this… You knew the team was looking for you too, doing everything they could, but you couldn’t just sit and wait. You had to find a way to gain some sort of advantage over the unsubs. There was no use trying with Lavinia, but Leon…

He was the weaker link in this duo.

He had lied about your blood type, which meant he wanted to keep you here.

You heard him enter the room. They usually took turns coming to see you, rarely together. His arrival was always preceded by the small wheeled table carrying all the electronic equipment and streaming cables. If only Garcia could trace it…

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, sitting on the edge of your bed, keeping his distance, the camera aimed directly at your face. You tried to turn your head so the bruise under your eye—courtesy of his sister—was out of view. A poor attempt. Your lip was swollen too. “You look weak. My sister told me to bring you something to eat, but… you know, Lydia is smaller than you.”

You raised your eyebrows. So what, was he planning to starve you until you resembled his sister’s corpse? You didn’t even try to understand it anymore. It wasn’t worth the effort for your exhausted mind. You didn’t answer, unsure of what you even should say. But you wanted to keep the conversation going.

“Why…why are you even recording all of this?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing directly into the camera. It was impossible that the whole team was watching the stream. You hoped as few of them as possible were seeing you like this. Especially not Penelope—she wasn’t built for this. Not JJ, your best friend. And definitely not Spencer.

On second thought, you didn’t want any of them to be watching.

Leon cleared his throat.

“Well, we’re doing something incredible. People want to see it. They’re curious if we’ll succeed.”

You’re doing something sick. Freaks want to watch it. They’re fascinated by it, you corrected him in your head.

“So, I have fans?” You tried to sound playful, friendly.

Leon was surprised by the warmth in your voice. Pleasantly surprised. His pale face, green eyes brightened slightly.

“Yes. I guess you do,” he admitted. He almost seemed shy, as if he hadn’t kidnapped you. “Can I…can I talk to you? Maybe they’d like to know something about you. The previous ones…the previous ones didn’t really want to say much. Mostly, they just screamed.”

You used all your strength not to flinch.

“Sure,” you replied, forcing a soft smile. It was just a game, a mask. You tried to observe the conversation from the outside, detached, clear-headed—while pretending you didn’t hate him. “What do you want to know?”

He didn’t move closer, but he shifted slightly to make sure the camera captured as much of you as possible.

“I know you’re a fed,” he began. “I even looked you up. I know your name. How old you are. But nowhere did it say what you like. You know, what you do. In your free time.”

You hesitated for a moment. You were kidnapped. If it were someone else in your position, you’d tell them to be as human as possible—honest, even. Make your captor see you as a person with feelings, desires, dreams.

So you took a breath and tried to answer truthfully, even though it hurt.

“I love musicals,” you finally said.

You thought about the two tickets—Spencer’s gift.

It hurt unbelievably much.

You prayed he wasn’t watching. That he wouldn’t hear this.

You told Leon a little about the last musical you had seen. It had been a long time—your job left you no time for such things. You looked him straight in the eyes as you spoke, because the sheer disgust you felt toward him was the only thing keeping your tears from spilling over. You felt so fragile, talking about something you loved to a man who, in just a few days, planned to drain you of blood.

You didn’t want to die like this. You refused to.

“Do you want kids?” he asked suddenly.

The question was so unexpected that you didn’t even have time to think.

"I guess…I guess so," you said.

But your surprised mind quickly sharpened, pulling up information from their biography. You knew that the twins' mother had died in childbirth. You didn't know what was driving him to ask this question, but you preferred to be cautious.

"I mean, no. I don’t know, actually. Maybe. To continue the species."

Or to have a loving family, but of course, you weren’t about to say something so personal out loud.

Leon remained still for a moment, then suddenly laughed. You pretended to laugh along, but you couldn’t stop the sharp flinch when he suddenly moved closer, touching your cheek with his hand. He lowered the camera—it was now pointing at the floor.

"You're so funny," he said with strange tenderness. "Just like Lydia. She…she was the same way."

For the first time, he referred to her in the past tense instead of the present. Was he starting to realize that she was gone?

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Another question.

"No."

"Have you ever loved someone?"

"What…what really happened to Lydia?"

The team had never found that out. But you had seen the wounds on her wrists and figured it out yourself. Still, you wanted to hear what he had to say about it. Because by now, you were starting to suspect.

"She passed away because of an illness," he said shortly, enigmatically, cutting off any further questions. Then, he repeated himself. "Have you ever loved?"

"In what way? Romantically, like a sibling, like family…?"

"It doesn’t matter."

Your posture became more alert, analytical. Leon withdrew his hand from your face, but he didn’t point the camera back at you, as if he had forgotten he was even holding it.

"Of course, I’ve loved," you said quietly. "And I still do. And you loved Lydia, right?"

The man nodded, a certain longing filling his green eyes.

"It’s late," he announced after a moment of silence. "I should go."

But before he even moved to stand, he leaned in. His lips brushed the top of your head, hesitant. You fought the urge to push him away. You had to keep up the act, continue this game. Wrap him around your finger, so that the very thought of hurting you would terrify him.

"Goodnight, Lydia."

♊︎

A certain force kept him bound to that chair, watching each broadcast over and over again.

He believed that, eventually, he would spot some previously overlooked detail—one that would immediately allow him to pinpoint the location. But in part, he also wanted to punish himself. Because what could hurt more than watching the face of one of the most important women in his life grow paler and more bruised with each passing moment?

A woman he himself had condemned to this fate.

But he didn’t stay in the office for another night just to drown in his own guilt. He was capable of multitasking, so while the weight of it pressed down on him, he poured everything that came to mind onto paper.

He noted the exact moments the streams began, measured their precise duration, wrote down every single word spoken, and searched for any hidden meaning.

Maybe, somewhere in one of those conversations, she had hidden a message meant for their team—a clue to help them find her.

Three days had passed. Logically, it made sense to assume they were following the same pattern as in previous cases. And that meant nearly half of their time was already gone.

Spencer kept thinking about Leon’s cryptic words—that his sister had supposedly died of an illness. He wondered if that was true or if the twins had chosen to live in denial. Maybe it was easier for them to accept that fate, a cruel and indifferent universe, had taken her—rather than the possibility that she had done it to herself.

He rubbed his tired eyes and let out a heavy sigh when he realized he was getting nowhere.

Garcia had allowed him to stay in her office alone—something that, under any other circumstances, would have gotten him killed. She hated when anyone touched her keyboard.

But time was relentlessly moving forward, and they all had to sleep at some point. Usually, only one or two of them were assigned to monitoring the broadcasts at a time, while the rest focused on other search efforts. They worked nonstop.

They had already experienced a moment of sheer terror at the very start, forced to confront the brutal reality that she could die. And they were determined not to let that happen.

Especially Spencer.

Not just because he owed it to her. It wasn’t only about guilt—the fact that he had been the one to suggest they split up. Even if he had nothing to do with her current situation, he would still be glued to this chair in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the glow of the screens, a single desk lamp, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Because she was his friend. Because she was an inseparable part of his life.

Because she was someone he could say, without a doubt, that he loved.

Whether that love was purely platonic or something more didn’t matter right now.

The only thing that mattered was the silent promise in his mind—that he would make sure they watched that musical together.

Hundreds of them, if she wanted.

He drank surprisingly little coffee. What kept him on his feet and his mind sharp weren’t the stimulants but the occasional glances at the drawing Henry had made—a gift she had left in the office, intending to take it home after work. To pin it to her fridge with a cat-shaped magnet. Of course, Henry had no idea what had happened to the best aunt in the world.

He drifted off in thought for a moment, only to be pulled back by movement on the screen.

The stream was starting.

Spencer immediately straightened in his seat, giving his cheek a light slap to wake himself up, to force himself into absolute focus.

Like every time, something clenched painfully in his chest.

He barely recognized her, even though the light in her room was on.

Several details hit him all at once.

First, the wound on her cheek—one that hadn’t been there before. Second, her hair. It had been cut to the exact same length Lydia’s had been in the photos he’d seen of her. The association filled his mind in an instant, vivid and unshakable. Third… the bandages wrapped around her wrists. Both of them. His hand shot toward his phone to alert the team, to wake everyone up. Or maybe someone else had already done it—he wasn’t entirely present in his own body.

But before he could move, before he could do anything at all, his breath caught in his throat. A thought began to scroll across his mind like a news ticker.

Metamorphosis had already begun.

♊︎

When Leon cut your hair, you took advantage of his momentary distraction—his mind entirely consumed by memories of his sister—and stole the scissors, slipping them under your pillow.

You wished you could say it was part of some greater plan. But in reality, you were exhausted, your strength fading more and more—not just physically, but mentally too. If your calculations were right, at least three days had passed. Twice a day, they drugged you and moved you to a room so cold that you lost all feeling in your limbs for hours, forced to care for a dead body. Staring into Lydia’s empty eyes, at the bluish veins beneath her lifeless skin, you couldn’t stop imagining yourself the same way—discarded by the roadside, drained of every last drop of blood.

You didn’t want to go like that. You wanted to go on your own terms.

You seized your chance that evening, when they left you alone without sedatives. You hesitated. But what if the team had finally tracked you down? What if they were already on their way? Wait or don’t wait? They would understand. You knew that. You were relieved that the camera hadn’t been on you 24/7. You had at least spared them from witnessing this, the desperation and terror slipping from your wrists along with your blood.

It was Leon who found you. He collapsed to his knees beside you, consumed by sheer panic, screaming Lydia’s name over and over, begging her not to leave him again. His cries alerted Lavinia. You had hoped that despite her medical experience as a nurse, she wouldn’t reach you in time.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting their faces to be the last thing you saw before death. With the last remnants of your strength, you struggled against their grasp as they tried to lift you from the floor.

Then, everything faded away.

"Leon, this is a waste of time."

The blurred words drifted into your consciousness, floating there like debris on the surface of water. You observed them with closed eyelids, seeing nothing, feeling little, barely understanding anything.

"She…maybe we should just get rid of her. Find a new one."

"We can’t," her brother responded firmly. You had never heard him speak in such a commanding tone before. "We can’t take that risk. They’re on our tail. Police…FBI. If we try again…this is our last chance. She is our last chance, and this time, it will work. I can feel it"

He paused.

"She’s just like Lydia."

His twin remained silent for a moment before letting out a weary, resigned sigh.

"I guess you're right," she finally replied. "I'll go refill the boat's fuel. Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. And when she wakes up, take her to Lydia. They need to…they need to bond. A stronger bond. Right now, she's too weak."

"Be careful," her brother warned her gently.

You opened your eyes only after Lavinia left the room. The light stabbed at them painfully. For a moment, the helplessness consuming you was utterly devastating. You wanted to scream, to wail—it took everything in you not to beg the man to put you to sleep again. If even death couldn’t save you from this fate, then what could?

Leon didn’t say a word to you. After a while, he simply helped you up, touching your body as if it were made of fragile porcelain, then guided you into the hallway, offering light support. You were weak, horribly weak, but the moment you left your room, a flicker of strength began to return.

For the first time, they allowed you to walk to Lydia on your own instead of carrying you there unconscious. That gave you a chance to take in your surroundings more clearly. You were so surprised by this newfound freedom that, for a moment, you forgot how unsteady your legs were.

You stepped into what seemed like a corridor. Instead of soundproof foam, the walls were lined with metal, rust creeping along some of the panels. The air carried a certain chill—not the biting cold of Lydia’s room, but something more natural, like a draft seeping through an imperfect structure. And then there was another sound, layered beneath the whisper of wind slipping through the cracks—a faint, steady noise.

Rushing water.

Leon kept leading you forward. You crossed a threshold, and that was when you saw it—an old window at the end of the corridor. Something inside you surged forward, an instinctual pull. You wanted—needed—to press yourself against the glass, to look outside, to at least see where you were. The unfamiliar sounds and the stark change in environment stirred something deep within you.

The will to survive.

You thought it had died back there, on the floor, when you miraculously lived. But it hadn’t. It had only been waiting.

Leon pulled you along more forcefully. For the first time, you thought about hurting him. He wasn’t as strong as his sister—if you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck at just the right angle…You were alone there, Lavnia had gone… You tried to recall her blurred words. Refill the fuel in the boat? A boat? So your intuition had been right—you were somewhere on the water.

You had done this so many times that he didn’t need to hand you the cloth or the comb; you already knew where to find them. As you opened the drawer, you could feel Leon’s gaze on your back. You moved slowly, hoping to find something sharp. Anything. Even the comb would do…

You turned around and saw Leon sitting on the table by the bed, his forehead resting on his sister’s lifeless hands.

A perfect opportunity. Perfect circumstances. He was distracted, not paying attention to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t fully focused either. His sobbing…

"My beautiful Lydia," he wept softly into his sister’s body, burying his face in it as if hoping she would embrace him, stroke his head. "My dear Lydia. I loved her, you know. I love her."

You didn’t move, clutching the comb in your hands. You barely felt the cold, even though your body registered it perfectly, making you shiver. And although rage filled you—a wild, feral madness—you wanted to lunge at him. Yet somehow, you found a sense of calm, a sliver of reason.

You remembered your previous strategy. Leon, the weakest link.

Leaning in, you gently ran your fingers through his blond hair.

“I love you too,” you replied with difficulty.

The man stopped sobbing, remaining still for a moment. With a slow inhale, he straightened up, his wide-open eyes locking onto your face. A slight shiver ran down your spine.

It was possible that you had just made the worst mistake imaginable.

But there was no turning back now. You held his gaze, refusing to look away. You couldn’t tell what emotions were flickering behind his stare. Was it shock? Suddenly, he stood up abruptly. Instinctively, you flinched, raising your hands to shield yourself, bracing for the kind of blow his twin sister had delivered so many times before.

But it never came.

Instead, without a word, he simply turned on his heel and left. He didn’t call for you to follow. He didn’t say anything at all. For a moment, you stood motionless before slowly setting the comb back onto the table. Your feet barely lifted off the ground as you moved toward the door, only to freeze once you reached it. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

You pushed it. And it opened.

A strange wave rolled through your chest.You were alone at the threshold of an open door. Alone on your own feet, not tethered to anything that could put you to sleep at a moment’s notice. You didn’t think long.

You ran.

The world spun violently from the sudden movement, your weak body barely managing to stop in time to avoid crashing into the window. Your heart pounded furiously, drowning out your thoughts.

You would regret it. In fact, you already did a second later.

Your gaze had barely locked onto the space outside the window when strong arms seized your clothes, yanking you back and slamming you to the ground. You landed hard on your elbow, too disoriented to even feel the pain. Lavinia stood over you, clad in a jacket, her hands clenched into fists. But before she could take a step toward you, her brother moved between you, shaking his head.

"Don't hurt her," he pleaded.

He reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand away, redirecting her fury toward him instead.

"Don't hurt her?" she echoed mockingly. "And how else is she supposed to learn that she can't just go running off? Why did you even let her?"

"Sorry, it's my fault. I forgot to lock the door," he said.

You didn’t even care whether he was telling the truth. Your mind was spinning too much, especially as you tried to push yourself up.

"But she's our sister, and you can't keep hitting her."

At those words, both you and Lavinia froze.

You looked at her face—pure shock, trembling lips. You were surprised too, but… the corners of your mouth twitched. You masked it quickly, pretending there wasn’t even a trace of satisfaction in you. That your plan wasn’t starting to fall into place.

“Get her out of my sight,” Lavinia said coldly, her voice devoid of emotion.

You watched as Leon slowly stepped toward you, helping you to your feet. As he led you back to your room, you caught a glimpse of Lavinia hiding her face in her hands. You stayed silent for a long time, watching him carefully. It hit you—this was the first time you were with him when he didn’t have his camera.

Slowly, you sat down on the bed, waiting to see if he would sit next to you. And he did.

You swallowed. You couldn’t let yourself feel too confident yet—you still had to be careful, still had to watch every step you took.

“You defended me,” you noted gently.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked just as bewildered as you felt. You hoped he wasn’t starting to regret calling you that. You hoped his own delusions were wreaking havoc in his mind—to your advantage.

“Thank you,” you added.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. He straightened up, turning his head toward you. There was a strange devotion in his green eyes. “You’re my sister. Of course, I have to protect you.”

You nodded gently.

"I am your sister," you repeated clearly, locking eyes with him, willing these words to sink deep into his very core. "I am already your sister, Leon. Lydia. But… our other sister wants to hurt me."

As you spoke, you reached out your bandaged hand, lightly touching his arm. He stiffened under your touch, staring at you with growing astonishment. In fact, he looked almost in awe. As if you had just descended from the heavens. You took that as a good sign.

"You know what she wants to do to me. To drain my blood. How many days do I have left?"

His breathing grew heavier.

"Tomorrow," he answered. "Tomorrow at midnight."

"Tomorrow…" you trailed off, shaking your head. You forced panic to take hold of you. You must have been unconscious longer than you'd thought. "But I am already her. Can't you see?" You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling brightly. "We’re together again. We love each other again. And she wants to tear us apart."

You saw hesitation creeping onto his face, the subtle furrow of his brow betraying his uncertainty. You had forgotten—Lavinia was his sister too. He loved her as well. Turning him against her wouldn’t be that simple.

Swallowing your nerves, you spoke again.

"We have to convince her that I have truly become Lydia. But for that to happen…you know, there’s something still holding me back. An anchor. Two anchors, actually. They keep me from letting go of who I used to be."

He gazed at you with growing intrigue. A metaphor like that had to be especially stimulating for his deranged mind.

"What are these anchors?" he asked, a readiness in his voice, as if he was already prepared to rid you of them.

"One of them," you began slowly, carefully choosing your words—mostly because you hadn't fully thought this through yet. "One of them is…I need to say goodbye. One last farewell that will sever all ties to my previous life. I wish I could let go without it, but…Leon, I’m afraid it’s necessary. It’s holding me back against my will."

You could see him absorbing everything you were saying.

"Say goodbye…to whom?"

There were many names you could have given him. But you chose the one that would strike straight at his orphaned heart.

"To Mom. I don’t need to see her. Just…just a short phone call would be enough."

The silence between you was so heavy, you genuinely feared he might hear your heartbeat. And it was raging in your chest, pounding so fiercely that your limbs trembled. You waited. Everything depended on his answer.

Leon averted his gaze, staring blankly into the distance. You prayed you had reached him. That his desire to have Lydia back was strong enough.

"Tomorrow, I will bring you a phone. One that can't be traced," he finally said.

Okay, that was not part of the plan.

"But tomorrow, Lavinia will…"

"She won't," he cut you off. "I won’t let her… We’ll get rid of the anchor, and she’ll understand that you’re already here."

You could have argued, but you were too afraid of accidentally undoing everything you had achieved so far. So, you agreed. Even an untraceable call was better than nothing. Especially since, in that brief moment you had stood by the window, an idea had begun to form in your mind.

Leaning in, you pressed a grateful kiss to Leon’s cheek. He allowed himself a brief smile.

"And what is the second anchor?"

You told him.

♊︎

When you woke up, you knew it was morning.

Lavinia had dragged you to Lydia’s room the old way—while you were unconscious. At the same time, she had announced that this was the last time and that you had better start getting it right. So, you wiped the woman’s body with as much care as possible. For the first time, you were able to look directly into her eyes.

This was going to end soon.

She would finally end up in a grave, those two would be in prison, and you…

You tried not to fantasize too much. You had to stay focused.

You slowly combed through Lydia’s short hair. Time passed, but Lavinia did not return. You had grown somewhat accustomed to the fridge-like cold, but you had never stayed here longer than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. You waited for someone to come, but when the chill became unbearable, you approached the door and started pounding on it. Your frozen hands didn’t even register the pain.

"I’m still here!" you shouted.

Had they forgotten about you?

"And that’s where you’ll stay," Lavinia’s voice answered from the other side.

You frowned, hugging your trembling body.

"You’ll stay there until the ritual. I’ll come for you before midnight."

"But it’s morning!" you screamed.

No response.

You slammed your fists against the door again. Harder. Again and again, until blood coated your knuckles and your lungs burned from breathing in the freezing air. One moment, you had everything—a plan to keep yourself alive. The next, you doubted you’d survive the next few hours in this cold.

Had the previous victims gone through the same? Or were you the exception because Lavinia wanted to make sure you never made it out?

You paced around the room, hoping that movement would warm you up. Meanwhile, thoughts of hypothermia and its fatal consequences circled in your mind. You wavered between determination to survive and pure despair, convinced that you wouldn’t make it. You had no idea how many minutes had passed before your gaze landed on the wardrobe that had been standing in the corner of the room the entire time.

With almost blissful relief, you layered on piece after piece of clothing found inside. You knew you would make it until nightfall.

What came next remained uncertain.

♊︎

Leon found you curled up inside the wardrobe, so accustomed to trembling that it felt like a natural state for your body.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” he said, offering his hand to help you out.

You clung to him tightly, as your legs refused to support you.

“What…where…Lavinia…the phone…” you mumbled, your frozen body unable to form coherent sentences.

“I have the phone, but we need to move fast. I got here just before her to give it to you. Come on.”

He led you out of the room. You turned your head toward Lydia lying on the bed, wondering if this was the last time you would see her.

When you were back in your own room, you wrapped yourself tightly in the blanket, leaving only your head and hand exposed—the hand in which Leon pressed the phone. Your body slowly began returning to its optimal temperature. You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Leon crossed his arms over his chest. He had no intention of leaving you alone with the phone—he was going to listen to the call. But you were prepared for that possibility.

Instead of frantically dialing, you looked at him. He didn’t have his camera with him.

“Don’t you want to show… this moment to your fans?” Your voice still trembled slightly, your tongue struggling to cooperate. He frowned, not seeming to understand what you meant. You had always avoided the camera before. “Well, you k-know…the final moment before my complete metamorphosis. They’ve followed you for so long…I’d think they…they’d want to see it.”

"You're right. Absolutely right. Wait here."

Not that you had anywhere to go.

He returned, as always, pushing his small table along and clutching his camera in his hand. His fingers trembled slightly. Acting behind his sister’s back must have been stressing him out, but his desire to get Lydia back was too strong. At that moment, you were certain he would do whatever you told him to. With stiff fingers, you dialed the number twice before getting it right. You were calling your mother to say goodbye. That was the official version.

There weren’t many numbers you knew by heart, but Spencer’s was one of them.

Under Leon's watchful eye, you pressed the phone tightly against your ear to make sure he wouldn't hear a male voice—one that was definitely not maternal. The camera was aimed straight at your face, and you stared into it without blinking, as if challenging it to a contest of who would break first.

If the team wasn’t watching this, you might as well smash the phone against the floor.

"Hi, Mom," you said the moment the call connected.

You didn’t breathe. The fear of ruining everything made your throat tighten, and you swallowed hard against the lump. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end.

You didn’t look away from the camera, your senses sharpening from the sheer intensity of your focus. The adrenaline burning through you kept you warm.

Still, no response.

"Hi, sweetheart," a woman’s voice finally said—JJ’s voice.

Tears stung at your eyes, and you worried they would give you away in front of Leon. You made a mistake while blinking and you bit down hard on your tongue as punishment.

JJ was pretending to be your mother.

"I don't have much time, Mom," you began. "I'm just calling... just to ask how you're doing. Is everything okay?"

"Garcia, can you trace where this call is coming from?"

Spencer’s voice.

Another mistake.

Your next breath felt like choking, and you had to steady yourself. You needed to do one more thing—just in case this didn’t work.

"That's great," you threw in a random half-sentence to make the conversation sound real for Leon. "Uh-huh...I'm glad everything's fine. Yes, I'm okay too, don’t worry"

You fell silent for a second, too long. Leon raised an eyebrow. You were supposed to be saying goodbye.

"I...I...Mom, do you remember my favorite mug? The one you accidentally broke last time?"

You swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact with the camera. You couldn't come up with any other cover story besides the mug, so it had to be enough.

"I...I kinda yelled at you back then. Sorry. It was my favorite, but now I...I know it wasn’t your fault."

Your voice grew weaker as you spoke.

Don't cry, you warned yourself.

"It wasn’t your fault, Mom. Not your fault, S—Mom."

Terrified, you glanced at Leon, hoping he hadn't caught it. But he only waved his hand impatiently, urging you to hurry.

You swallowed hard, and before anyone on the team could say anything else, you spoke your final words.

"I love you. Goodbye."

Then you hung up.

For a moment, you stared at each other without moving, until he turned off the camera and you handed the phone back to him. Hearing their voices—possibly for the last time—tightened something in your chest, a pressure you struggled to release.

"Thank you, brother," you said softly. You nodded slightly, grounding yourself, pulling yourself back to the plan. You had to act, to keep moving before Lavinia returned. "You know what we have to do now, right?"

Leon nodded.

♊︎

“What was that about the mug?” Prentiss asked as the call ended.

JJ closed her eyes for a long moment. The rest of the team, gathered around the computer where the stream had played just moments ago, looked utterly confused.

“You think she was trying to send a message? A hidden clue?”

“Garcia, can you play it from the beginning?” Spencer cut in, leaning toward the screen.

The first time he watched it, emotions had taken control, clouding his focus. He had been stupid, so incredibly stupid. Most of his attention had latched onto the repeated words it’s not your fault which only deepened the devastation in his mind. But a small part of him had registered the way her eyes moved.

“Sure, just a sec…” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and soon the footage played again.

“Do you understand what she was trying to say?” Rossi asked.

Spencer shook his head. A rush of adrenaline, almost intoxicating, coursed through him.

“She didn’t hide a message in her words,” he explained, straightening up. His gaze darted around Garcia’s desk, searching for something to write with. He grabbed a notebook with a pink, glittery cover and a pencil topped with a fluffy pom-pom. “Look at the way she’s blinking. It’s Morse code.”

Everyone fixed their eyes on the screen, trying to see it for themselves.

Everyone except JJ.

She was looking at Spencer, no trace of anger in her expression—just hope.

Reid wrote down the message she had sent.

Oil rig.

♊︎

The cold was almost liberating.

You stood with Leon at the edge of the oil rig. Ever since you managed to reach the window, you'd been trying to figure out where they had kept you. The realization had come to you slowly. The sound of water surrounded you both, and the wind played with your freshly cut hair. It felt so good that, for a brief moment, you closed your eyes.

But only for a moment.

You couldn't celebrate victory when you hadn't won yet.

Your gaze shifted to the man beside you, then to Lydia’s body, wrapped in a bedsheet and lying just a few steps away. This was the last anchor—the one you had convinced him needed to go.

Lavinia would be back any second. It had to happen now.

Of course, it was never really about anchors. The whole story about your mother had been nothing more than a way to send a message—one you hoped your team had understood and was already acting on. And the one about Lydia? That was just to bring Leon to the edge of the oil rig.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, nodding slightly and exhaling as his eyes lingered on his sister’s body.

You pushed him.

When you planned this, you hadn’t accounted for how weak you would be.

Leon staggered, yes—but he didn’t disappear beneath the waves. Instead, his hand caught the thin fabric of your nightgown, and with a short, startled yell, he yanked you both down onto the floor.

You groaned as your body slammed against the hard surface.

“You… bitch,” he said, almost in despair, realizing you had been lying to him all along.

You kicked him in the face with your bare foot and pushed yourself up onto your elbows. He let out a sharp gasp of pain—you heard the crunch of his nose breaking—and for a fleeting second, you thought you were on the fast track to escape.

But then his hand clamped around your ankle, yanking you down again.

You let out a frustrated sound as his knee pinned you to the ground. You struggled to shove him off. He wasn’t like Lavinia, but he also wasn’t as weak as a starved woman who had spent nearly an entire day in a freezer.

Right. He wasn’t like her.

He was fucked up, but not enough. Not enough madness in him.

Your nails clawed blindly at his skin while your other hand fumbled against the surface, searching for anything. You felt like you could kill him with a feather if you had to. But you found something far more practical than a feather.

A brick.

Leon collapsed when it struck his temple. But that wasn’t enough. With a pained breath, you pushed yourself up over him and swung again. You kept swinging, not caring that your fingers were sticky with blood and the brick was beginning to slip from your grip. You kept striking longer than necessary.

Leon had been dead for a while.

You threw the brick aside, gasping for air. Everything felt so unreal, so distant. For a moment, you closed your eyes, still kneeling over his motionless body. When you opened them, ready to face the sight before you, your gaze accidentally met someone else's.

Lavinia stood a few steps away, disbelief and slowly growing fury in her eyes.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, neither of you fully grasping what had just happened.

Then it hit her—you had killed her brother.

And it hit you—that you were absolutely screwed.

Well, that thought only truly settled in once she tackled you to the ground. Punch after punch rained down on your face, so relentless that you couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with an escape plan. Was there even one? Your hands fell limply to your sides, no longer attempting to fight back. The ends of her blonde hair mixed with yours, strands stained red from the blood streaming down your face.

When she stopped, for a brief moment, you thought you were dead.

You had always imagined death as a very quiet experience. Peaceful.

But instead, you could hear her ragged, frantic breathing, a sound almost like a sob, and barely intelligible words cutting through the air.

"I’ll finish this."

During your entire time in that place, she had always moved you from one location to another by knocking you out with sedatives first. But this time, it wasn’t necessary. Your body was so battered that all she had to do was grab you by the leg and drag you along, not caring that your skin scraped against the rough surface.

When your vision finally sharpened and you realized you were back in that same cursed room where it had all begun, for a moment, you thought the recent events had been nothing more than a dream.

But then—

One glance at your bloodstained hands.

One glance to the side, at the neighboring bed and the lifeless body of Lydia resting upon it.

One glance at the IV lines piercing the crooks of your elbows, the slow, steady flow of liquid passing through them.

Your blood.

The only thing that brought you solace was the slowly creeping realization that, at the very least, you had managed to say goodbye to those closest to you. They had seen your face, the raw pain and love in your eyes as you whispered your final goodbye. At least you had assured Spencer that none of this was his fault. You could only hope that, in time, he would start to believe it. At least partially.

You had long drifted off when the door to the room burst open with a bang.

♊︎

She was saved by the fact that she was a universal recipient.

Still, by the time they found her—after Garcia had finally tracked down the illegally sold oil rig through a bankrupt extraction company—she was already weak. Very weak. So much so that the following hours were filled with even greater fear than the past few days.

She couldn’t slip away from them now that she had been rescued. Or rather, now that she had rescued herself. Spencer had no intention of taking credit—nor letting anyone else take credit—for her brilliant moves and meticulous plan.

He sat in the hospital corridor, while JJ rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. Her leg trembled, and with it, her entire body. Emily held her other hand tightly.

"Spence," she finally said. Her gaze had been fixed on the floor, and it took effort to lift it to him. But it was necessary for what she was about to say. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For how I reacted, for how I treated you these past few days."

He wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he just gave a small nod.

“She’s your friend. It’s normal that—”

“She’s your friend too. Ours. We should have been supporting each other this whole time instead of yelling at one another.”

“You were the one yelling.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. JJ opened her mouth but said nothing.He hadn’t meant to throw it in her face—he didn’t even feel angry. Back then, he had only cared about one thing. One person. But before he could add, retract, or clarify his words, a nurse approached them, informing them that someone could go inside. The entire team stirred in their seats, but only two people were allowed in at a time.

Spencer sat back down, nodding toward JJ and Emily.

Emily raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Reid. Of course, it has to be you.”

Although he had been ready to step aside, a faint, grateful smile crossed his lips.

He followed JJ into the hospital room, his steps slowing as they approached her bed. Unpleasant flashbacks flooded his mind—seeing her like this on a screen, the helplessness that had gripped him then. It took him a moment to shake off the feeling, to ground himself in the realization that he was here now. That she was right in front of him.

A sudden chill of panic ran down his spine. What was he supposed to say to her? Was he even capable of opening his mouth without turning into a pathetic, guilt-ridden mess, mumbling endless apologies and self-deprecating confessions? JJ spoke first, sparing him from his spiraling thoughts. She started with something simple—a quiet whisper of her name.

She said it again, and slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. Spencer felt something tighten in his chest. A relief so immense it almost hurt.

She murmured something weakly.

Both he and JJ stepped closer, and this time, he was the one to say her name.

“Don’t call me that,” she rasped. Her eyes shut again, and she turned her head to the side, as if refusing to look at them. Shutting them out. “That’s not my name,” she whispered.

“I’m Lydia.”

post-reading author’s note:

if you survived reading such a long fic—CONGRATULATIONS and THANK YOU and also im SORRY. i know there wasn’t much reid not much of the team and honestly it had very little to do with canon—it was mostly just a product of my imagination. i hope you’re not disappointed.

if any topic in this fic triggered you, i apologize. i tried to include everything in the tw but i might have missed something.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spence reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, long time reader, first time requester. I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if you could do an arcane x reader (all the usual suspects and jayvik) for a reader who crochets? I know you’ve done one similar so ignore if it’s too similar. But I could imagine the reader being like “oh Silco likes fish” and then proceeds to crochet every fish he loves to the point that he could open an aquarium. And like she crochets jinx a replica of the bunny that vi showed her or something? 🧡

ꜱᴛɪᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | ᴠɪ | ᴄᴀɪᴛᴠɪ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ!! || 7111 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!!! <3 <3

JAYCE

It was a quiet evening in the workshop of Jayce and Y/N's shared apartment. The soft hum of machinery filled the room, and the golden light from the setting sun filtered in through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Jayce was busy at his workbench, bent over a mechanical blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration. But the calm was disrupted by a familiar sound—an occasional soft clink, the rhythmic pull of yarn, and the occasional sigh of satisfaction from Y/N.

Sitting on the couch nearby, Y/N was engrossed in her latest project, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She had picked up the habit of crocheting a few months ago, inspired by the soft, repetitive motion it provided during her moments of relaxation. But there was another aspect to it—a playful one. She had started crocheting some of Jayce's tools, those pieces he left scattered around the workshop after a long day of tinkering. Wrenches, hammers, gears—nothing was safe from her crochet skills.

She picked up her current creation, a crochet version of Jayce’s trusty wrench, and twirled it between her fingers, admiring her work. It was remarkably accurate, the details as precise as her hands could make them. She couldn't wait to see Jayce’s reaction when he discovered her latest masterpiece.

As Jayce adjusted a mechanism on one of his projects, he reached for a wrench—a tool he had used countless times. His hand paused mid-air. Something was... off. He squinted down at the workbench, narrowing his eyes. The wrench was... soft? He lifted it slowly, inspecting it more closely. It was a crochet version of his tool, down to the smallest details, and all in a delicate blue yarn.

“Mi amor,” he called out, unable to hide the amused confusion in his voice. (My love)

She looked up from her crocheting, an innocent smile curling on her lips. “Yes, dear?”

Jayce held up the crocheted wrench, his brow raised in mock disbelief. “This isn’t my tool.”

Y/N's grin widened. “Oh, but it is. It’s just... softer.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart lightening at the sight of her mischievous expression. “You’ve been crocheting my tools again, haven’t you?”

Her hands paused mid-stitch, and she tilted her head playfully. “Maybe.”

He walked over, holding the crocheted wrench between them. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”

“Both?” she teased. “I thought I’d make sure you have all your tools, just in case you need a backup for when you can’t find the real ones.”

Jayce leaned in, inspecting the crocheted version more closely. “I’m starting to think I’ll find crochet versions of all my tools from now on.” He gave her a pointed look. “How many of these have you made?”

“Enough to keep you on your toes,” Y/N teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. She loved seeing him so entertained by her little creations, the way his stern engineer’s face softened with each playful surprise.

“You know,” Jayce began, his tone mock-serious, “if I ever lose one of my tools, I’m blaming you.”

Y/N laughed softly, setting down her yarn and walking over to him. “You’d have to admit they’re very well-made.”

“I can’t deny that,” he said, giving the crocheted wrench a squeeze. “But I think I’ll stick to the real ones, if that’s alright.”

Y/N shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “Fair enough, but when you’re in a pinch, you know where to find a spare.”

He smirked and leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I’ll be sure to ask for a crocheted hammer next time my machinery goes haywire.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the intimate tone, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Only if you promise not to get mad when the next tool is a crochet version of your screwdriver.”

Jayce chuckled, hugging her back. “Deal. As long as it’s soft enough to cushion me when I stub my toe on it.”

Y/N smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of their quiet evening together. Despite the bustling world of Piltover and the constant work, these small moments with him felt like the most important thing.

And even if her crochet tools never quite replaced the real ones, she wouldn’t stop making them—because making Jayce smile was worth every stitch.

VIKTOR

Viktor sat in his lab, hunched over a workbench as his fingers gently maneuvered a series of delicate mechanical parts. His brow furrowed in concentration as the hum of machinery filled the space, but something else was tugging at the edge of his mind.

It was an unusually quiet evening. Normally, Y/N would be in the corner of the room, working on one of her many projects or crafting something with her hands. Recently, though, he’d noticed her spending more time with a set of yarn and hooks, her soft hums filling the air as she crocheted intricate patterns.

Tonight, however, her crocheting seemed different. He glanced over at her from time to time, watching as her hands moved rhythmically, the yarn twisting and turning into something beautiful. She had started out making small pieces, like scarves and blankets, but recently, her projects had grown more ambitious.

“Viktor, I’m almost done,” Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing with a mysterious smile, holding up a half-finished piece of crochet in her hands.

“What is it?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, though he could tell she was eager to keep it a secret.

"You'll see soon enough," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Just trust me, it’s going to be a surprise."

Viktor raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her further, intrigued by her cryptic response. He returned to his workbench, though the quiet hum of the lab now felt different, filled with the anticipation of whatever Y/N was creating.

That night, after Viktor had fallen into a peaceful sleep, Y/N quietly slipped the finished crochet cover over his cane. She smiled softly as she adjusted it, making sure it fit perfectly before stepping back to admire the little surprise she had prepared for him. Satisfied, she tucked the rest of the yarn and her crochet tools away before slipping into bed beside him.

She settled in next to him, her heart light with the thought of how he would react in the morning. It was a small gesture, but she knew it would mean something to him. With that thought, she drifted into sleep, content beside the man she cared for

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, gently waking Viktor. He stretched slowly, feeling the familiar stiffness in his muscles, before reaching for his cane, as he always did to steady himself. But as his hand grasped it, something felt different. He paused, brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

The texture under his fingers wasn’t the usual cold, hard metal. Instead, it was soft, warm, and—he paused again, inspecting it. The delicate crochet cover fit perfectly, its intricate patterns wrapping around the handle in a way that felt almost… personal.

Viktor sat up fully, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked over to Y/N, still fast asleep beside him, a soft smile on her face. Her peaceful expression only deepened his gratitude for the thoughtful surprise she had left him.

Carefully, he tested the cane, pressing down on it as he would have done normally. The crochet softened the grip, adding a layer of comfort to the familiar support. It felt… better, actually. A little extra care that, while subtle, made a difference.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly under his breath, the sound barely a whisper in the quiet room. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

As he leaned back against the bed, still holding the cane in his hand, he couldn’t help but admire the way she had turned a simple gesture into something meaningful.

Viktor sat in the quiet morning, his fingers still gently wrapped around the cane with the soft crochet cover now in place. He marveled at the care Y/N had put into the small, unexpected gesture. His heart warmed as he tested the comfort of the grip, but he didn’t want to disturb her sleep just yet.

Instead, he shifted slightly and reached over to gently caress her cheek with his finger. The light touch was enough to stir her from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she blinked groggily, the faintest smile curling on her lips as she realized what had woken her.

"Viktor?" she murmured softly, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He smiled warmly, not wanting to startle her but eager to share the surprise. "Good morning," he said gently. "You’ve given me quite the surprise this morning."

Her eyes found the cane in his hand, and she let out a small, contented sigh when she saw the crochet cover now in place. “You found it,” she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

“I did,” Viktor replied, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s perfect, lásko. You didn’t have to, but I’m… very grateful.” (Love)

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, still sleepy but her eyes shining with happiness. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, a small blush coloring her cheeks. “I thought it might be a little more comfortable for you. It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing,” Viktor said, his voice sincere. “You’ve made it something special.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his as she met his gaze. The quiet moment between them spoke volumes, the bond they shared deepening with every simple gesture, every unspoken word.

JAYVIK

It had been a long day at the Academy, and by the time Jayce and Viktor finally made it home, exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Usually, Y/N would be waiting for them, either curled up with a book or busy with one of her countless crochet projects. But tonight, there was no sign of her.

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Viktor mused, rubbing his eyes as they made their way to the bedroom.

Jayce yawned. “She deserves the rest. She’s been working on something big, but she still won’t tell us what it is.”

As they entered the dimly lit bedroom, they saw the familiar silhouette of Y/N lying on the bed, facing away from them. The soft glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting a warm haze over her figure.

Jayce, too tired to question anything, just kicked off his boots and crawled into bed. With a content sigh, he settled behind Y/N, slinging a strong arm over her waist—only for his hand to sink unnaturally deep into her body.

His groggy mind struggled to process the sensation. He frowned and gave a little squeeze, only to feel soft, plush resistance instead of the warm, solid form he was used to.

“…Viktor,” Jayce said slowly, still half-asleep. “Is it normal for someone to feel like… like a pillow when you hug them?”

Viktor, who had been in the middle of sitting down, froze. He blinked at Jayce, then at the oddly still form on the bed. “…What?”

Jayce lifted his hand and let it plop down on Y/N’s back again—only for it to sink in once more. He stared at his hand, then at Viktor, baffled. “I think something’s wrong with Y/N.”

At that exact moment, the bathroom door swung open, and the real Y/N stepped out, towel drying her hair. She took one look at the scene before her—Jayce manhandling a stuffed replica of herself while Viktor stared in horror—and immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “I can’t believe you just cuddled my crochet doll.”

Viktor blinked rapidly, realization dawning on him. “Wait… you made this?”

Jayce sat up quickly, still holding onto the plush, albeit more cautiously now. “You—you made a whole life-sized version of yourself?”

Y/N grinned proudly. “Took me months! You always asked what I was working on. Surprise!”

Jayce groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “I thought you melted or something.”

Viktor shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are going to give us heart attacks one day, Y/N.”

She only giggled, sauntering over and flopping onto the bed beside them. “Oh, please. If anything, this just means you guys love me so much you didn’t even question it.”

Jayce groaned again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just… warn us next time before you replace yourself with a stuffed version, okay?”

Y/N smirked. “No promises.”

Jayce sat up again, still holding the plush version of Y/N at arm’s length like it might suddenly come to life. “Okay, but why did you make this?”

Viktor, now warily prodding the doll’s leg with his cane, nodded. “Yes, I am also curious. Of all the things you could crochet… why yourself?”

Y/N flopped down onto the bed beside them, completely unbothered. “Oh, you know… for whenever I’m busy.”

Jayce squinted at her. “Busy with what?”

She smirked. “I dunno. Maybe I don’t feel like attending another ‘Jayce and Viktor argue over blueprints for three hours’ meeting, so I send my stand-in.”

Viktor scoffed. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

The room went silent. Jayce and Viktor exchanged a look.

“…Okay, that’s fair,” Jayce muttered, rubbing his face.

Viktor sighed and shook his head. “I hate that I cannot even argue with that.”

Y/N stretched, grinning. “See? Genius. Now, whenever I have things to do, you two can cuddle my crochet clone instead of complaining that I’m not around.”

Jayce gave the doll a suspicious glance. “You know, it is pretty soft…”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor deadpanned, snatching it away. “You are not replacing Y/N with a stuffed version just because it is ‘pretty soft.’”

Y/N giggled. “Come on, Viktor. Just give it a chance. I worked hard on her!”

Viktor shot her a flat look before shoving the crochet clone into Jayce’s arms. “Fine. You sleep with it.”

Jayce pouted, flopping onto his back with the plush doll. “It’s not the same.”

Y/N smirked, nestling herself between them. “Exactly. You dorks love me too much.”

Viktor rolled his eyes fondly while Jayce sighed dramatically, finally tossing the crochet doll onto the floor. “Fine, fine. Real Y/N is better.”

Y/N snuggled in closer, grinning. “Damn right I am.”

VANDER

Vander had seen a lot in his years—fights, betrayals, losses—but he never thought he'd see someone like you, sitting in the dim glow of the Last Drop with a ball of yarn in your lap, hands deftly moving a small hook through loops and chains like it was second nature.

He didn't quite understand the craft, not at first. "What’re you making this time, love?" he asked one evening, leaning over the counter to get a better look.

You glanced up at him with a soft smile, never pausing in your work. "Something for you. You'll see."

And he did. A few nights later, you handed him a thick, warm scarf—deep brown with a bit of blue threaded in. It wasn't the finest silk or the strongest wool, but it was made by your hands, and that made it better than anything he could buy.

Vander turned it over in his hands, feeling the care woven into each stitch. "You made this for me?"

You raised an eyebrow. "No, I made it for Benzo."

He barked out a laugh and tugged the scarf around his neck. "Feels like a hug," he murmured, pulling you in for a proper one. He held you there for a moment, his chin resting atop your head, the steady thump of his heartbeat against your ear grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

But you didn’t stop with him. The kids got their own gifts, too.

Vi was the first to get hers—a pair of red fingerless gloves, reinforced with a thicker stitch so they'd last through all her roughhousing. She grinned and flexed her fingers, already throwing mock punches. "These are sick! Thanks, Y/N!" she said, practically bouncing on her feet. "Now I can really start training!"

"You better not use those to punch Mylo," you warned, though you knew it was inevitable.

Vi just smirked and ran off, likely to do just that.

Powder, wide-eyed and beaming, received a tiny crocheted rabbit, its mismatched ears flopping over like it had stories to tell. She cradled it like it was the most precious thing in the world, running her fingers over the stitches as if committing them to memory. "I love it!" she whispered, clutching it to her chest. "What's its name?"

"You tell me," you said, watching her think hard before nodding to herself.

"Jinx," she decided, holding the little rabbit up in the air like it was a trophy. "Jinx the bunny!"

Mylo tried to play it cool when you handed him a crocheted hat—green with a small, almost imperceptible 'M' stitched near the brim. "Eh, I guess it's kinda nice," he muttered, but he wore it every day after that. Not that he’d ever admit it, but you caught him adjusting it in the reflection of a grimy window more than once.

Claggor got a scarf like Vander’s, only his was warm gray and yellow. "It’s real cozy," he said, wrapping it around his neck and grinning. "Thanks, Y/N! Now I won’t freeze my ears off when we go out."

Vander watched it all—watched the way their eyes lit up, the way your hands moved so effortlessly, weaving love into every stitch. It wasn’t just fabric. It was a reminder, a small comfort in a place that didn’t often give them softness.

One night, as you sat curled up beside him, working on another project with his scarf still wrapped snugly around his neck, he exhaled deeply and pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You spoil us, you know that?" he murmured, watching your fingers move with practiced ease.

You hummed, leaning into him as your hook twisted through the yarn, forming something new. "Family deserves a little warmth."

Vander tightened his arms around you, his grip firm and steady. "That they do."

And in the cold, unforgiving streets of Zaun, that warmth was everything.

SILCO

Silco was not a man prone to sentimentality. Sentiment got you killed. Sentiment made you weak.

But there were exceptions. And lately, those exceptions took the form of tiny crochet fish multiplying in his office.

The first time he found one, he’d dismissed it as a curiosity. A small blue fish with black beady eyes, sitting neatly on his desk, its little fins slightly uneven. He picked it up between his fingers, the soft yarn foreign against the rough callouses of his hands. He turned it over, inspecting the delicate, precise stitches. The craftsmanship was simple but meticulous, each loop of yarn woven with care.

His gaze flickered to you, where you stood by the window of his office, absently rolling a ball of yarn between your fingers. The dim, golden glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows over your form, your expression unreadable.

“You left this,” he said, holding up the fish between two fingers.

You barely spared him a glance. “Maybe.”

Silco frowned at your evasive answer, but when you offered no explanation, he merely placed the fish aside, letting it rest next to his glass of whiskey. He didn’t think much of it. There were bigger things to worry about.

Yet, the next day, another one appeared.

A deep red fish, its tail slightly curved as if caught mid-swim, sat atop a stack of paperwork.

Then a golden one. A green one. A striped one. A tiny pufferfish with little bobbles for spikes.

Each morning, a new fish awaited him, its small, unassuming presence breaking the monotony of his work. They were left in odd places—perched on the armrest of his chair, nestled between stacks of ledgers, even once balanced atop the rim of his whiskey glass.

At first, he ignored them. He had more pressing matters to attend to—expanding Shimmer production, keeping the Enforcers at bay, maintaining control over Zaun. But as the collection grew, so did an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

One evening, he finally caught you in the act.

You were seated in his chair, legs tucked beneath you, fingers deftly working a crochet hook as you looped the yarn with practiced ease. The rhythmic motion of your hands was oddly soothing, the soft shhh of the yarn unspooling filling the quiet space.

He lingered in the doorway, watching.

“You’re persistent,” he remarked, stepping further into the room.

You didn’t look up, didn’t even pause in your work. “And you like them.”

He scoffed, though the accusation wasn’t entirely false. His gaze flickered to the ever-growing pile in the corner of his office. He really could open an aquarium at this rate.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he mused, circling his desk.

You finally glanced up at him, arching a brow. “Do you think it’s funny?”

He considered this for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”

There was something disarming about the little gifts, something that unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite place.

You finished the last stitch, pulling the yarn taut before cutting it with a small pair of scissors. A pale lavender fish joined the others in your lap.

Silco reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took it from you. The yarn was soft, delicate, yet strong. Just like you.

He turned the fish over in his palm before glancing back at you. “Why?” His voice was quieter now, lacking its usual sharp edge.

You studied him for a moment before answering. “Because you deserve something that doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

Silco wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was a man who had clawed his way to power, who had long since abandoned the idea of kindness without expectation. And yet, here you were, offering him something with no strings attached—something soft, something warm, something his.

Slowly, he tucked the fish into the inner pocket of his coat.

“…I suppose I could make space for a few more.”

Your lips curved into a knowing smile as you picked up your yarn once more. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on stopping.”

JINX

The workshop was quiet, save for the rhythmic clicking of Y/N’s crochet hook and the occasional crackle of a distant lamp. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the worktable as she tinkered with a small gadget in her hands. The soft glow of the nearby light bathed her in a warm hue, her blue hair casting long shadows over her face.

Y/N glanced down at her, noting the distant look in Jinx’s eyes. The girl had been quieter than usual, her usual boundless energy dimmed to something… softer.

"Something on your mind, trouble?" Y/N asked, her fingers still working the yarn into careful stitches.

Jinx shrugged, still turning the device in her hands. “Eh, just thinkin’ about stuff.”

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, giving her the space to continue if she wanted to. She knew Jinx well enough to understand that sometimes, if you just let the silence sit long enough, she'd fill it on her own.

Sure enough, after a beat, Jinx let out a small chuckle. “Y’know… when I was a kid, I had this dumb little rabbit. Stuffed, all floppy, kinda ugly, but—” she grinned, “—he was mine. Had him for as long as I can remember.”

Y/N’s hands stilled for just a second before she resumed her work. “Sounds like he was special.”

Jinx nodded, her eyes flickering with something wistful. “Yeah. Called him ‘Bun-Bun.’ Real original, I know.” She smirked, but it was softer than usual. “Vi used to tease me about it, but I didn’t care. Bun-Bun was there when I had nightmares. When I was scared. When things got bad… I’d just squeeze him tight, and it was like nothing else mattered.”

Y/N felt a familiar ache settle in her chest. She had seen that look on Jinx before—the flicker of a past she clung to, moments she could never get back.

“What happened to him?” she asked gently.

Jinx twirled the screwdriver between her fingers, her smile fading. “Lost him the night everything went to hell.” Her voice was quieter now. “After the explosion, after… Vi left.”

Y/N’s hands paused again, the weight of the words heavy in the air.

Jinx scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s dumb, right? Missin’ some old, raggedy rabbit when I got bigger things to worry about?” She forced a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s not dumb,” Y/N said, her voice firm but warm. “It’s never dumb to miss something that made you feel safe.”

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Y/N’s voice. For a second, she just stared, as if trying to figure out whether Y/N was messing with her. But there was no teasing in her face—no judgment, no pity. Just understanding.

Her fingers twitched slightly, gripping the screwdriver in her hand a little tighter. Then, she let out a small, breathy chuckle, her lips quirking up at the edges.

“Hah… Look at you. Always know just what to say, huh?” She smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. Something vulnerable. “Guess that’s why I keep you around.”

Jinx flicked the screwdriver in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before pointing it playfully at Y/N. “Don’t go telling anyone I got a soft spot, though. Ruins my whole scary, unpredictable vibe.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Your secret’s safe with me, trouble.”

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Damn right it is.”

But as she turned back to her gadget, she hesitated, eyes flickering back toward Y/N for just a second. The words felt heavy on her tongue, but eventually, she muttered, just loud enough to be heard—

“…Thanks.”

And though she didn’t look up, Y/N simply smiled, returning to her crochet without a word.

That night, long after Jinx had gone off to do whatever mischief she had planned, Y/N sat in her chair, staring at the soft skeins of yarn in front of her.

Blue. Pink. White.

She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the way Jinx’s face had softened when she talked about her old friend. The way her fingers twitched slightly, as if they still remembered the feeling of worn fabric clutched in her hands.

With a small smile, Y/N picked up her hook and got to work.

The soft click of a door shutting signaled Jinx’s return to her room. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head as she kicked the door shut behind her, only to pause when her eyes landed on her desk.

A small, stuffed rabbit sat there.

Her brows furrowed, hands reaching out hesitantly as if the little thing might vanish if she touched it. It was crocheted, the stitches tight and well-crafted, made with soft blue and pink yarn. The ears flopped slightly, and its button eyes gleamed in the dim light.

It was just like the one she had as a kid. The one she lost a long time ago.

Jinx swallowed, fingers trailing over the soft yarn before she noticed the small note tucked beneath it. She plucked it up, scanning the familiar handwriting.

"I remember you telling me about your old friend. I thought you might like to have them back."

Her breath hitched. She turned the note over, half-expecting more words, but that was it. Simple. No big speech. Just a quiet reminder that someone cared.

Jinx clutched the rabbit to her chest, a rare warmth spreading through her. She flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with a lopsided grin.

“You really are the best, mama…” she murmured, hugging the little rabbit a bit tighter.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt safe.

It was a quiet evening in Piltover. The soft golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. The air was still, save for the rhythmic clinking of crochet hooks against yarn.

Y/N sat in the corner of the living room, her focus entirely on her hands as she worked on her latest project. The soft yarn slipped through her fingers with ease, creating delicate patterns as she twisted and looped it. It was a small scarf for one of the kids in Zaun—a tiny act of kindness she hoped would warm someone’s heart.

Across the room, Vi leaned against the doorframe, watching her. There was something mesmerizing about the way Y/N’s hands moved, like the quiet clicking of gears in a machine that had perfected its craft. Vi had never really paid much attention to crochet before, but watching Y/N do it made her curious, made her appreciate the beauty in the small, slow moments.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Vi commented, crossing her arms and smirking as she stepped into the room. “That’s... uh, not something I expected from you, Y/N.”

Y/N glanced up from her work, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Why? Because I’m not what you'd call ‘delicate’?” she teased, her voice light but warm. The rhythm of her hook didn’t falter as she worked.

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah, just didn't picture you as the knitting type. Thought you’d be more of a... I don’t know, warrior or something. But hey, this is kinda cute.”

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and fondness. “I’m a lot of things, Vi. Besides, you’d be surprised how calming it is. Crocheting is like... a quiet fight. Every loop and stitch builds something.”

Vi watched as Y/N pulled the yarn through one more time, the edge of the scarf beginning to take shape. The soft colors she used made it feel like a warm embrace. “I can see that. You’re always building something—whether it’s a scarf, or with all that knowledge you’ve got hidden up there,” Vi said, tapping her temple with a playful grin.

Y/N glanced at her with a gentle smirk, her eyes softening. “Just a habit, I guess. I like creating things. It helps me focus. And sometimes, I think... it’s nice to make something for someone else. Something that’ll keep them warm.”

Vi softened at her words, crossing the room to sit next to her. She watched for a few moments, entranced by the way Y/N worked. “You know, if you keep making stuff like that, I might just steal it.”

Y/N looked up, her brow raising slightly in challenge. “Oh? Steal it? What do you mean?”

Vi leaned in, her eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Well, maybe I need something to keep me warm on my next patrol through the streets. You wouldn’t mind, right?”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head, playfully nudging Vi’s shoulder. “You’re not getting this one. But I can make you something special. You know, for when you’re off being the big, tough enforcer.”

Vi grinned, clearly pleased by the offer. “Deal. But it better have some edge to it. I want to look intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking up from her crochet. “A scarf that’s intimidating?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me. I can pull it off.” Vi winked, nudging her again with a grin.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll see what I can do, then.”

The next few days passed in a blur, with Y/N balancing her work at the Academy and her quiet moments crocheting. Between the chaotic pace of life in Piltover and Zaun, she found solace in the rhythm of the yarn slipping through her fingers. As promised, she began work on the scarf for Vi. This time, the design was going to be different—something bold, something that would match Vi’s tough exterior.

Vi had mentioned wanting something intimidating, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she considered what that might look like. The colors were deep and strong, a mix of dark purples and silvers, with sharp geometric patterns woven in that could resemble the angles of sharp steel. It wasn’t a scarf meant for delicate moments—it was a scarf meant for power, for strength.

Vi’s eyes had lit up when Y/N mentioned she was working on it, though she hadn’t given away how eager she was to see the finished product. She couldn’t deny it: she was curious about how Y/N’s delicate craft would turn into something tough enough to match her persona.

Finally, after a couple of evenings spent by the window, Y/N finished the scarf. The design was intricate—just like Vi had asked—but it had the warmth that came from Y/N’s touch, from the care she’d poured into each loop and stitch.

As Y/N held the finished scarf up in front of her, she couldn’t help but be proud of the way it turned out. It looked like it had a bit of fire in it, like it could take on whatever came its way.

Vi was sitting on the couch, her legs stretched out, absently flipping through a magazine when Y/N walked over with the scarf draped in her hands. There was a small grin on Y/N’s face as she held it up.

“Ready for your custom, intimidating scarf, Vi?”

Vi’s head shot up from the magazine, her eyes wide in sudden excitement. “That is what I’m talking about!” She grinned and jumped to her feet, clearly pleased.

Y/N handed the scarf to her with a chuckle. “I made sure it has that edge you wanted. I think it suits you.”

Vi took it in her hands, running her fingers over the cool, smooth texture of the yarn. The deep colors and bold pattern were exactly what she had hoped for—something that felt strong but not overly flashy. It was simple, just like her, but it had a sharpness to it that said don’t mess with me.

Vi wrapped the scarf around her neck with a dramatic flourish, striking a pose in the mirror. She looked at herself, pleased with how it framed her. “This? This is perfect.”

Y/N watched with a soft, fond smile, leaning against the wall. “Glad you like it.”

Vi turned around, tossing Y/N a look of mock seriousness, though the warmth in her eyes betrayed her. “I look like I’m about to start kicking ass, don’t I?”

Y/N snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You already do. Now you’ve just got the scarf to match the attitude.”

Vi grinned, then reached out to tug Y/N closer. “You know, it’s not just the scarf that’s badass. It’s you, too. Thanks, Y/N.” Her voice was softer now, genuine as she gave Y/N a gentle squeeze.

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the yarn she’d used to create the scarf. “You’re welcome, Vi. You deserve something that keeps you warm—physically and, well, emotionally.”

Vi’s grin softened, her usual tough exterior cracking for just a moment. “Yeah, well... you’ve got me there.” She let out a soft laugh and gave Y/N a playful shove. “But seriously, you’re one of the good ones. I’m glad we’ve got each other.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. For all the chaos and uncertainty in their lives, moments like these—moments of connection and understanding—made it all feel worth it. She gave Vi a quiet nod, her smile deepening.

"Yeah. Me too."

CAITLYN

It had been a long, exhausting day in Piltover. The sun had just begun to set, casting an orange glow across the city. Y/N sat at the small window in her apartment, legs tucked beneath her, a crochet hook in hand, weaving delicate threads into something meaningful. It wasn’t the first time she had spent an evening this way, her hands moving mechanically while her thoughts drifted.

The rhythmic click of the hook and yarn were soothing, and she lost track of time as she focused on her work. Her current project was small, intricate — a delicate flower pattern. It was for Caitlyn.

Caitlyn… The sharp, observant sheriff of Piltover. The woman Y/N had found herself drawn to in unexpected ways. Their interactions had always been tense with a mix of professional respect and an undercurrent of something else that neither of them fully acknowledged, until now.

Y/N's fingers danced over the yarn, the flower slowly taking shape. It was meant to be a small token, a sign of gratitude for Caitlyn’s unwavering support and kindness, especially during the moments Y/N struggled to process her past. Caitlyn had seen through her, past the hardened exterior, and had always been there when she needed her most.

As Y/N finished the final row, the door creaked open. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Caitlyn's presence filled the room, like a quiet storm — strong, confident, but always gentle when it mattered most.

“Evening,” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, but there was a hint of curiosity in it.

Y/N smiled without turning around. “Evening, Caitlyn. How’s everything going?”

“Same as usual, a lot of paperwork and a few too many cases I’d rather not deal with,” Caitlyn replied, her tone light but clearly a bit weary. “What are you working on?”

Y/N finally turned, holding up the finished flower. It was small, but delicate, made with a soft lavender yarn. "I made this for you," she said simply, holding it out.

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed slightly, surprised. "For me?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Caitlyn. "I figured you might appreciate it. It's a little piece of something for you to keep."

Caitlyn reached out, taking the flower in her hand, her fingers brushing lightly against Y/N's. She stared at the crocheted bloom, a soft smile forming on her lips. "It's beautiful. I… didn’t expect this." Her voice softened, genuine gratitude shining through her words.

Y/N lowered her gaze for a moment, feeling the intensity of Caitlyn's eyes on her. "You’ve done a lot for me. I wanted to show you that I appreciate it."

A long silence passed between them, filled with an unspoken understanding. Caitlyn reached out, gently taking Y/N’s hand in hers, a simple but meaningful gesture. Y/N squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of Caitlyn’s touch.

The flower that Y/N had made now rested between them, a symbol of the quiet bond that had started to form between them — delicate, like the stitches of Y/N’s crochet, but strong enough to weather any storm.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said quietly, her voice full of sincerity.

Y/N only smiled in return, a deep sense of contentment settling over her. "Anytime."

CAITVI

The apartment was peaceful for the moment, with only the rhythmic clicking of Y/N’s crochet hook filling the space as she worked on her latest project. She was seated on the couch, her fingers moving with precision through the yarn, adding tiny crochet bullets to her growing collection. Each little bullet was delicate, but they all came together perfectly. She worked steadily, glancing up every now and then to watch the playful chaos unfolding in front of her.

Vi, with that signature mischievous grin, was teasing Caitlyn as the two of them sparred with their crocheted weapons: Vi’s gauntlets and Caitlyn’s sniper rifle.

“Come on, Cait,” Vi taunted, pulling her crochet gauntlet back like a fist, “are you really gonna let me win this time?”

Caitlyn, ever the composed one, grinned, aiming the crocheted sniper at Vi with exaggerated seriousness. “You think you can take me down with that?”

Vi dodged dramatically, ducking as Caitlyn mimed firing. “Oh, it’s not about taking you down,” she quipped, “it’s about the fun of trying.”

Y/N chuckled softly to herself, her fingers working deftly to make another small bullet. The yarn was soft under her hands, but it held firm as she shaped it. She continued adding to the tiny collection as the two women bickered playfully in front of her. The crocheted gauntlet Vi wore was perfect, almost like the real thing, while Caitlyn’s sniper rifle was equally impressive, down to the last detail.

“Alright, alright,” Caitlyn chuckled, tossing the crochet sniper over her shoulder. “But I still think I’ve got the edge.”

Vi winked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you think, Y/N? Who’s winning?”

Y/N glanced up from her work, her smile lighting up her face as she watched them. “I think you both look ridiculous. But if I had to choose…” She paused, her gaze shifting to Vi. “Vi’s definitely got the upper hand. Caitlyn, you need more practice with your aim.”

Vi raised her gauntleted fists triumphantly, letting out a playful cheer. Caitlyn feigned a dramatic sigh. “I’ll get you next time. Just wait.”

Suddenly, Caitlyn turned back to Vi, aiming the crocheted sniper rifle at her with mock seriousness. She pretended to fire, and Vi exaggerated the fall, clutching her chest as if struck by a powerful blow.

“Nooo!” Vi gasped, dramatically collapsing onto the couch beside Y/N. She let out a playful moan, flopping against her with a wink. “My dying wish… is to kiss Y/N one last time.”

Y/N laughed softly, her heart swelling at the sight of Vi’s playful antics. She leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from Vi’s face, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Is this how you die every time?” Y/N asked with a smile, her voice filled with affection.

Vi’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only when I’m lucky.”

Caitlyn leaned against the back of the couch, watching the two of them with a fond smile. “Lucky, huh? I think we all are, really.”

Y/N smiled at the two of them, wrapping her arms around both of them as they all settled onto the couch together. She held the tiny crochet bullets in her hands, absently finishing up the last one. The light-hearted energy in the room filled her with warmth.

They had been through so much, but moments like this, full of laughter and love, reminded her of how truly fortunate they all were to have each other.

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nerdygirlramblings · 3 days ago

Text

Off to See the Wizard (8)

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cw: poorly attempted accents

Soap offers to walk you back to the barracks after dinner, and you can't bring yourself to tell him no. You've put in more than a full 12 hours, and can't find a way to use your office as an excuse. When he suggests joining the others in the rec room, you tell him you'd prefer a quiet evening alone. You hope he understands and takes the message back to the rest of the team. He's given you a lot to think about, and all you want is some quiet to parse through it and your own feelings.

Three heads whip in his direction as Soap comes through the rec room doors. Gaz immediately notices he's alone while Ghost watches the door for another moment, hope in his eyes that's dashed as Soap shakes his head.

"Sit rep?" Price asks.

Soap shrugs and responds, "Tol' 'er Ah cared for 'er. She asked about las' night, about yoo and me," he motions between himself and Ghost, "bein' close, so Ah said Ah cared for ye too. She got a real funny look on 'er face, so Ah said Ah thought mah heart was big enough for more than one. Dinnae ken 'ow she took it cuz she went quiet after."

Price sighs heavily, running his hand over his face. "Well, it wasn't how we planned to tell 'er, but it was a good call, Soap." He eyes the other man. "Did ya mention me 'r Gaz when ya talked about yer big heart?"

Soap shakes his head quickly. "No' at all. Could see she was struggling wi' me carin' for her an' Si. Didnae wanna make it worse."

Price's head falls back against the recliner. He takes a deep breath and huffs it out. Then he looks at Gaz. "We're down to four days, Garrick. Don't know if ya wanna try tonight or wait, but we're still countin' on ya to close this." His eyes rake over his lover. "Soap laid the groundwork after last night's disaster, but it's up to you to make her see wha' we have an', more importantly, wha' we want."

One of the first emails you see the next morning is from Laswell. She's asking you to meet with one of her contacts at a location off base. You're glad John told you where to get the bus into town, but you don't know the town well enough to know where this location is. You debate trying to find one of your the boys for help, but between movie night and Soap's confession, you're not quite sure what to say to any of them.

You did some digging on your personal device, using untraceable proxies, to learn more about having multiple partners at the same time. You came across the phrase polyamory, which seems to fit what Soap was hinting at, but you're not sure. And you definitely don't feel confident asking.

Like any other problem you can't solve, you're putting this one off to the side for now to focus on other things. Like how to get to the meeting location.

In the end, you find Corporal Avery and ask her where you should go. She's able to provide you a rough map of town including where the bus will let you off and how to get to your location. She offers to accompany you, and when you worry she'd get in trouble, she says, "Can say it's part of my official duties per Captain Price's orders, ma'am." She smiles big, and you remind yourself to lean on her for company when the 141 are gone. But you decide to head to the meeting alone. You don't know who this contact is, and with Kate, their personal information might be classified or confidential in some way. You can't bring Corporal Avery for the safety of whomever you're meeting, a thought that leaves quite quickly when you step into the cafe two hours later to see it empty of everyone except the girl behind the counter and Kyle.

You look around, waiting for someone else, someone you don’t know, to make an appearance. Instead it’s simply Kyle who smiles big and waves you over. You stop just short of his table. “What are you doing here, Kyle?” You work to keep your tone level, curious, not accusatory.

“Asked Laswell for a favor. Needed ta see you, Oz,” he tells you. “You’re avoiding us.” There’s no pretense, no hiding. It’s unlike him to be so blunt.

“I’m doing my job, Kyle,” you say. “The one Laswell sent me to do to help you.”

Kyle stands and pulls out the other chair at his table for two, clearly indicating you should sit. “What yer doin' isn’t helping us, doll," he says softly.

You rear back. “Not helping?!?” you whisper hiss, sitting down. You lean over the table, masking your hurt with anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

Kyle quickly sits to join you. “Shit, no, that’s not what I mean,” he rushes out. He runs a hand down his face and mutters under his breath.

You shift back, annoyed, trying to get as far from him as you can while staying at the table. “Excuse me?” You cross your arms and don whatever armor you can for what seems like a rather unpleasant confrontation in the middle of the Costa. “If I’m not helping, maybe Laswell should send someone else.”

You can’t believe you’d been so excited about finally meeting your the boys. You refuse to cry, but this conversation needs to end quickly if you’re going to keep from balling your eyes out.

“Oz, doll…” Kyle trails off, mouth opening several times as he tries to pull his thoughts together. “This is harder than I thought it’d be,” he admits wearily. He tries to catch your eye but can’t match your glare. “We don’t want someone else. We want you.” He reaches for your hands, and despite how much you want to hold onto anger, you know it’s your heart you're trying to protect.

But that traitorous organ can't resist, so you timidly slip one hand in his. Kyle grips it like a lifeline. “We want you, Oz. No one else is better at this job than you.” You both know he’s stretching things a bit as Laswell is clearly better suited to this than you, but she can’t be in all places. It’s what she trusts you for.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I need you to explain it to me, then, Kyle. If you want me here, if you don’t want or trust someone else to do this job, then how is it I’m not helping?”

You know you must look ridiculous because you gape at him for several long moments in which he says nothing, does nothing. He waits for a reaction. You can see the tension in his shoulders, and he still has both of his hands wrapped around yours, but he doesn’t push, and he doesn’t clarify.

“Yer amazing at what ya do,” Kyle quickly replies. “But ignoring us isn’t helping us.” He must see the confusion on your face because he adds. “Yer helping the mission, but ya aren’t helping us.” He widens his eyes at the end, trying to tell you something, but you can’t figure it out.

You shake your head and are about to tell him you don’t understand when he squeezes your hand in his and asks you to look at him. “Doll, we want you. Not for the mission but for us.”

You think about what Soap revealed at dinner last night. About Simon’s outright declaration. About John’s not-so-subtle pick-up line. About Simon and Kyle and Soap practically cuddling on the couch. About John and Kyle’s kiss. The pieces are there, but your brain refuses to believe it. “Are you saying you and…” you trail off, not sure where this thought is actually going.

“Me and Ghost and Soap and the captain, yes,” he says, helping to refocus you.

“Are you saying you’re all together?” He nods. “In…in…in some kind of polyamorous thing?” Kyle admits he isn’t sure because he doesn’t know what polyamorous is, never felt like he needed a label for how he feels about the others. “So you’re all together together. And you all want me?” It’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend.

"Yes." Kyle says it so simply, as though his declaration makes every bit of sense. "'s been you fer us fer a long time. Only you."

He looks at the table where his hands are wrapped around yours and says the next so quietly you can almost pretend you don't hear it. "We weren't meant to be together. Not like tha'. We're supposed to be task force. A fighting force. A killing force." He shrugs, almost lost in his thoughts. "Somewhere along the way, tha' changed. I can't speak fer the others, but I never expected any of it. I never expected to be involved with my superiors. Never thought I'd love these men as anything more than Brothers in arms. But it happened. And now it's us. Us against the bad guys. Us against the world. Us watching one another."

He takes a deep ragged breath. And then he looks at you, looks right through to the very heart of you. "Then you came along. And you watched our backs. And you kept us company on those long, lonely nights. And you made sure we were safe. That we were making it back to one another whole. So yeah, it's you, Oz. We thought we were enough, but yer the peace we're missing. And if we're too much, if we read this wrong, then we'll just go back to what it was before. But we needed to let you know what we want before we go off on this mission where we might not all come home."

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 9

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write @thriving-n-jiving @madsothree @silly-starfish @danielle143 @beelzebee @nova-willow-541 @alchemyfreak321 @lilynotdilly @eternallyelvish @viylikescats @erintaro @hidden-treasures21 @lil-writer-523

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #kyle garrick #simon riley #johnny mactavish #john price #nerdygirl says

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mountttmase · 16 hours ago

Text

Just For Us

Note - happy valentines pookies 🩷 I’ve been sitting on this one for a while so I hope you like it 😘 thank you to @saltyheartnightmare for always providing me with ideas and letting me run with them 😂 feedback would be appreciated xoxo

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff and angst

Another week over you told yourself as you shut your laptop down. Sighing as your eyes fell to the window that overlooked the garden next to you but it was pitch back outside and all you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. A tired and grumpy version of you that you were starting to not recognise.

You hadn't heard anything going on in the house, the time just ticking past 5pm and you knew you were still all alone in here. The thought of walking out of your home office into a dark and empty home upset you more than it should have, but then again everything was upsetting you at the moment.

Mason had promised he’d be here, letting you know that training would be over around 3pm and he’d make sure to get home at a reasonable time so you could spend your first valentines living under the same roof together, but once again he was nowhere to be seen.

You got why he was always in late, he was almost done with his recovery and had been staying later most evenings in order to get himself into a good place but you missed him and with everything else going on in your life right now all you wanted to was to be wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved.

You hadn't lived with Mason long, moving in at the end of November so you were approaching the three month mark but you felt like everything had taken a downturn for you since then. It was nothing to do with Mason himself, he was a dream most of the time and was looking after you just like he’d promised but it was everything you’d left home that was bringing you down.

Manchester was so far from everything you knew, having grown up in London you never envisaged living so far away when you had everything you needed right there but there was one thing your favourite city didn’t have anymore, and that was the boy you were in love with.

It wasn’t often you thought back to how you first met Mason, but since it was valentines day and you were in your feels a bit you let your mind wander back to that cold but sunny morning. It was your favourite type of weather on your favourite day of the year, pumpkin picking with your best friend, and as you reached for the last wheelbarrow your hand brushed against someone else’s as they did the same.

‘Oh shit, sorry. You take it, I can wait’ you heard, turning to your right to see quite possibly the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen and the sight of him filled you with nerves.

‘Oh n-no please you have it’ you stuttered, your face warming as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest but you could see the tops of his cheeks turning pink too and you thought he looked adorable.

‘It’s fine’ he laughed, motioning for you to take it but you knew you’d mess up somehow now if you had to try and get it out in front of him and you weren’t up for embarrassing yourself whilst he watched on.

‘No please, I’m not even sure I know how to use this thing properly and I’ll just end up taking someone’s legs out’ you joked and as you both shared a giggle, a worker came with a new batch of clean ones.

‘Here let me grab you one, these look smaller’ he nodded as he walked over to get one for you and you used the time he was facing away from you to give him a once over. You most definitely liked what you saw and as he turned back to face you, you wondered if he’d caught you staring at his bum. You gave him a warm smile though as he placed it in front of you but you were trying to stall as you still felt awkward pushing it in front of him.

‘Thank you…’

‘I’m Mason’ he smiled, nodding his head shyly before he gave you a look as if to silently ask what your name was and you had to swallow a nervous lump before you told him.

‘Y/n’

‘Well y/n, if you see me running away from you please don’t take any offence, I’m just protecting my ankles’ he joked and you covered your mouth with your hand as you laughed at his silly joke.

‘I’ll keep that in mind’

‘Mase? You coming’ you heard, looking over to a woman with two kids in tow and you felt yourself deflate. Of course he wasn’t single, look at him, and as he called over that he wouldn’t be a second you kept your eyes on the floor.

‘Sorry I best get going, I don’t wanna upset the nieces’ he laughed and your eyes flashed up to meet his. Relief ripping through you at the knowledge that was presumably his sister. ‘See you out there?’

‘I hope so’ you whispered. Your answer taking him by surprise a bit as his blush deepened but you just just picked up your wheelbarrow and went in search of your bestie so you could crack on with your day.

It was like you couldn’t get away from each other, him joining the line behind you for food, your eyes constantly catching as you browsed the little pumpkins in the wooden crates and once you’d made it out into the main field it felt like he was following you. Always in the same section and your friend had seemingly picked up on the way you kept looking at each other and would steer your wheelbarrow in his direction.

It was fun watching him play with the two little girls, posing for pictures with them and helping them pick out ones for them to carve and he looked as though he was having as much fun as them. Not caring how goofy or silly he looked, he just wanted to make them smile and from the constant giggles it was clearly working.

‘You need a hand with that one?’ You suddenly heard from behind you. Mason's voice shocking you slightly but as he brushed up next to you and you could tell he was looking at the same pumpkin you were.

‘Do you think it’s too big?’ You asked and you knew it was a stupid question. It was one of the biggest ones in the whole field but it was perfect and you just needed one person to tell you it was okay to have.

‘Nah, you need to measure pumpkins with your heart’ he told sincerely. ‘If you want it, I’d say get it’

‘You know what, you’re right. I’m having it’

‘Here let me’ he offered. Picking it up effortlessly and placing it in your wheelbarrow for you before dusting himself off as he was now covered in dirt be he didn’t seem to mind.

He stayed with you for a bit as you spoke. His sister had taken the girls to the loo so he had a few minutes spare and he started off by asking if you’d taken anyone’s legs out yet. Seeming dissatisfied when you told him no but there was always time and you were lucky enough to see that heartbreaking smile of his again as he laughed before he caught sight of the girls coming back.

‘You’re really good with them’ you told him honestly and you could see him getting shy again as he laughed nervously.

‘I don’t live round this way anymore so I like to make it count when I’m here’ he told you and you wondered how far away he was now. You knew you wouldn’t get to ask or find out though, your bestie was standing like a lemon a few steps away as she pretended to look at the pumpkins and with his family coming back over you presumed you’d be torn apart again but before he returned to them he faced you a little more ‘Listen, at the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I took a picture of you earlier and I was wondering if I could send it you?’

‘You what?’ You laughed, watching his cheeks redden more than you’d ever seen to the point the bridge of his nose was also glowing.

‘Sorry, I saw you posing for some your friend was taking and I just thought you looked nice and wondered if you’d want a more candid one’ he mumbled shyly. ‘Shit, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t delete it if you-‘

‘I guess I should give you my number then’ you whispered with a smile, holding your hand out for him to place his phone in and the look of relief that washed over his face made you chuckle.

As soon as you handed it back he had to go but you knew it was coming so you bid him a quick goodbye and not even five minutes later you felt your phone buzz in your pocket

It was a fairly brazen comment from you, but it seemed to do the trick and the pair of you were messaging for the rest of the day and well into the night. All tucked up in bed later as you giggled into your pillow and when you got onto the topic of where he lived now, since he’d mentioned not being here anymore, things took a bit of a turn.

You’d had no idea he was a footballer, you had never met one in your life and had no idea what it even all meant but he told you he didn’t want you to think of him as any different than you had done earlier. He was still the same guy, he just has a slightly strange job compared to the average person.

He was right though, coming across to you as just like any normal guy and as the weeks passed you could feel yourself starting to slip under his spell. It was never your intention to speak to someone who lived so far away and you knew that seeing him again would be difficult, even if he wanted to see you anyway, but you couldn’t help your feelings towards him no matter how much you told yourself nothing would amount to anything.

You didn’t expect him to go in fully and dress up exactly like him but when he showed you his onesie on face time his enthusiasm excited you. You’d never had a boy to do a couples costume with before and you weren’t even sure he that’s what he wanted when he was asking for costume ideas but you’d decided to shoot your shot and thankfully it had paid off.

He was staying with a friend but just as he promised, he came to get you from your house. You thought it might be awkward, the pair of you only seeing each other in person once but as soon as you saw him again it was like no time had passed. Him knocking on your door fully dressed up and you giggled as he gave you a kiss on the cheek after a big hug.

You didn’t live too far away thankfully and after 20 minutes or so in the car with him, he was pulling up to his friends house. It was unlike anything you’d seen and you tried not to let it show that you were that impressed so you just took his hand and let him lead you through. You felt awkward instantly though as you looked around as it was full of gorgeous girls in barely there outfits whilst you stood there in a big pink t-shirt and your hair in bunches. Mason picked up on you straight away though and pulled you closer to him by your waist.

‘You good?’

‘You could have told me it was that type of party’ you laughed, hiding your face in his neck but he just squeezed you and bumped the side of your head with his nose so you’d look at him.

‘What do you mean?’ He smiled, rubbing your back a little bit as he was confused and you were finding it hard to be mad at him.

‘Mason, there are girls here who look like they’ve just stepped off a runway and I look like… well this’

‘You look perfect’ he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. Your cheeks warming instantly as even though he was being pretty touchy this was the first proper bit of intimacy you’d had from him. ‘I’m not looking at what anyone else is wearing anyway’ he reassured you and you felt your face heat even more at how lovely he was being.

His hand very rarely left yours and if it did it was just so he could hold your waist or wrap his arm around you and considering it was his friends party filled with people he didn’t see too often you were surprised at how much he didn’t want to mingle. That every conversation you joined you wouldn’t stay in long as he’d ask you something and soon enough you’d be in your own world again and when you asked him why he just smiled brightly.

‘I know those boring bastards, but I don’t know you yet. Not as much as I’d like to anyway’ he teased as his eyes flickered all over you and you felt your knees go weak as he bit his lip.

He was the perfect gentleman, getting all your drinks for you and letting you know he’d look after you. Mason himself wasn’t drinking as he wasn’t allowed but you noticed all his friends were and you figured it was just because he’d promised to take you home and was making sure he could. Mason seemed like the type to have a great time without drink though however you were thankful you’d had a few to loosen you up a bit.

As the night came to an end, you both knew you didn’t want to part but as you still lived with your overbearing parents it made things difficult. It had taken you enough time to convince them to let you come here tonight so staying out all night was completely out of the question and when the house began to empty out you knew it was time.

‘I think I need the loo before we go’ you told Mason, and his sad smile told you all you needed to know.

‘I’ll show you where it is’ he smiled, taking you by the hand upstairs and when he pulled open a random door and flicked the light on you were met with a bright and airy guest bedroom. ‘Just through here. Everyone’s been using the main one so this should be cleaner’ he laughed and you popped a quick kiss on his cheek as you passed by.

Once you were out you waited for him whilst he popped in there. Having a look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked somewhat acceptable and he was out quicker than you thought he’d be so he caught you checking yourself out.

He was quick to come over and wrap his arms around you from behind whilst taking his phone out of his pocket to hand to you. Instructing that he wanted you to take a few photos of the pair of you together to commemorate your first Halloween but soon enough you stopped taking any pictures and he was just holding you.

‘Come on’ he huffed. Removing his arms from around your waist and you could tell he was deflated just from the sound of his voice.

‘What’s wrong?’ You asked as you turned to him and the playful pout on his face made you feel a little bit guilty.

‘I’ve been dreading this part all night’ he chuckled, pulling you into his chest now so he could hug you properly and when he tucked his head into your neck you couldn’t stop your smile. ‘Sulley doesn’t want to say goodbye to his Boo’

‘Oh Mase’

‘Stay with me tonight’ he whispered, pulling back to look at you pleadingly and you almost gave in then and there. ‘Please, boo’

‘Mase.. I can’t’ you breathed, shaking your head ever so slightly. ‘I’m sorry-‘

‘No I’m sorry, I’m being way too forward. It’s just I’m not here long and I want to spend as much time with you as I can’

‘I want that too’

‘But?’

‘My mum will kill me’ you laughed, realising how ridiculous you sounded but Mason seemed to understand and quickly popped a kiss on your cheek. ‘Maybe I could come up to Manchester soon and visit?’ You asked, shock taking over his face at what you were suggesting and you were certain yours looked the same as you hadn’t even thought about the words before they’d come out of your mouth.

‘Yeah? You’d want to’

‘Yeah of course. I’ve never been before’ you told him and the smile he sent you made your heart race. ‘I just think it might be a bit too soon for you know … all that. I’ve never-‘

‘No you’re right’ he laughed as he cut you off. ‘Sorry I’ve just been getting a bit ahead of myself I think. I don’t know if I’ve made it that obvious but I really like you’ he told you as his cheeks flushed and you knew yours were doing the exact same.

‘Really? I had no idea’ you teased but you knew you needed to be honest with him too. ‘I like you too’

It was the longest three seconds of your life. Watching his eyes flicker down to your lips as he moved closer to you and you were powerless to stop anything. Tilting your face up to meet his and before you knew it his lips were on yours.

This wasn’t like any kiss first you’d ever had before. It was slow and sexy and you both hummed into each other's mouths as his tongue brushed against yours playfully. Your heart racing in your chest as he ever so carefully moved his lips against yours and you knew you’d never be the same again after this.

‘Come on, I’ll get you home’ he whispered against your lips after you’d parted but you felt deflated instantly. You didn’t want to leave him now, not after the best first kiss you’d ever had but you knew it was the right thing to do.

‘Are you sure it’s okay? You know-‘

‘I can wait. You’re worth it’ he confirmed quietly and you didn’t realise how much you needed to hear those words. ‘I mean I got to kiss you, that's more than enough for me. I’m just being greedy really’ he winked and your heart felt lighter as you both giggled.

‘You’re right, you need to be cut off’ you joked but when he lent down to kiss you again you let him.

y/n

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y/n Happy spooky season 🧡

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masonmount wow whoever took that first one has got a great eye 👀

y/n thank you my sulley 🩵💜

Going to Manchester to see him was the beginning of the end for you. You loved it up there and you loved your time with Mason just as much to the point you’d just sob the whole way home each time you had to leave him and you knew he was always just as down as you were about it. Each time it getting harder and harder to say goodbye so when next Halloween came and Mason wanted to celebrate your first anniversary together you jumped at the chance to spend some quality time with him.

Moving to Manchester after just a year of dating was a risk, and you both definitely knew it, but when Mason brought up wanting you to move in with him at your anniversary dinner you wanted to jump at the chance. You knew in your heart you were going to be with Mason for a really long time and the thought of starting your lives together up there really excited you. Your mum took it pretty hard but she knew you’d have to leave home eventually but neither of you could have guessed it would have been so far away.

You mostly worked from home in London anyway, only needing to visit the office twice a month so after a quick chat with your manager about different options, she told you keeping you was more important and that working in Manchester would be no different than London so she was happy for you to make the move.

Mason seemed to be the most excited. Letting you pick out any spare room you wanted to turn into your office and you picked the one at the back that overlooked the garden. The main reason being that in the summer you knew you’d be able to watch him training out of the window, but you told him it was because it was near the kitchen and downstairs loo so you didn’t have that far to walk.

It was lonely sometimes, spending all day at home on your own and when work was finally done not having anyone to talk to. At home at least your mum would be there so you could talk about your days as you fought over what to cook, but the house being empty did nothing to cure the ache of loneliness that would settle in your tummy until Mason was with you.

You hadn't been here long enough to make friends of your own and the ones you’d left behind did nothing to help you feel less lonely. Carrying on like you didn’t even exist and going to all your favourite places without you as well as new places you’d always wanted to try. You tried not to take it to heart too much as you didn’t want them to stop living their lives but you thought it was funny how as soon as you were gone they suddenly had time for all the things you wanted to do when they never had before.

Not wanting to be a grump for too much longer you quickly glanced at your phone when you were finally ready to get up. No text or update from him to let you know he was going to be home later than planned and usually it wouldn't have mattered but you thought with it being Valentine's Day he would have made a touch more effort as you were meant to be having dinner together. Your tummy hurt as your sadness migrated into every fiber of your being and you knew it wouldn’t be disappearing anytime soon.

All the lights were off when you eventually made your way out of your office. Traipsing through the silent house to the front so you could look out onto the drive, however it only upset you more to see that his car wasn’t there and suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. Wanting nothing more than to get into bed so you could sleep this awful mood away, but there was something that stopped you as soon as you made it upstairs.

You noticed the warm glow coming from the bathroom as soon as you reached the landing. The door was ever so slightly cracked open and you knew you hadn't left it like that so the light confused you. In the end you took a few cautious steps over so you could peek around the gap and the sight before you made your heart flutter.

There was Mason, hunched over the bath as he swirled his hand around the soapy water that was topped with rose petals. The scent of your favourite bubble bath filling the air as he checked the water temperature before he was standing back up and reaching for a lighter so he could continue to light the candles he’d set up in a row on the window. Watching and waiting until he’d grabbed a fresh towel to place on the warmer until you couldn’t help but open the door a little more and step inside.

You felt instant regret as soon as you did. This was clearly meant to be a surprise for you and you’d just marched in on him but the smile he gave you after the initial shock of seeing you made your eyes sting and as your face began to crumple, he was over to you in a flash.

‘What’s wrong, boo?’ He asked softly. Hands holding the tops of your arms as you tried to wipe your eyes but it was pointless as more tears came falling seconds after.

‘I didn’t know you were h-home’ you hiccuped, sounding completely ridiculous as you broke down into sobs, but just like always he took you as you came and listened intently. ‘I t-thought you’d be late a-again’

‘Well I’m a lot later than I wanted to be’ he told you softly. ‘I only got in about five minutes ago’

‘Where’s y-your car?’

‘I got a fucking flat tire, didn’t I’ he laughed but you could tell he was pissed off underneath. ‘Had to leave it at training cause I couldn’t get anyone out to fix it and then Luke dropped me home’ he explained before his face softened again and his voice came out in just a whisper. ‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong’

‘Sorry’ you blubbed. Covering your face with your hands again so you could hide yourself and thankfully he knew not to try and make you look at him. Simply wrapping his arms around your shaking body so he could pull you into his and when you felt his lips on your forehead shushing you gently you nearly lost it again.

He always knew what you needed, and right now all you needed was a big cry whilst he held you and whispered that everything would be okay until you found enough courage to take your hands away from your face and wrap them around his body.

‘You think I can’t tell that something’s been going on with you?’ He whispered, pulling back to look at you but when he realised you weren’t budging he just rested his cheek on the top of your head with a sigh. ‘I notice everything, boo’

‘I’m sorry’ you croaked, not even too sure what you were apologising for but it just felt like the right thing to say for hiding your emotions from him.

‘Don’t say that’ he told you as he squeezed you a bit tighter but you still weren’t ready to look at him. Holding him back just as tight as he rubbed your back and you could feel the love from him pour into you. ‘You gonna tell me what’s up?’

‘I don’t know, I just feel a bit down’ you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders as you wondered what you should say to him but you realised there was no point giving him half truths. ‘I've just been a bit homesick I think, it gets lonely in this house when you’re not here and I know you’ve been working really hard to get back into the team but I thought you’d forgotten about me tonight’

‘I’m sorry’ he breathed. ‘I know I haven’t been around as much lately and I know that hasn't helped with how you’re feeling. That’s why I wanted to get home early so I could do something nice for you and I couldn't even get that right’ he laughed. ‘And I know you miss your family, I miss mine too so I know how you feel and I know I’ve been a bit wrapped up in myself but I promise I’ll make it up to you. Starting tonight, yeah?’

‘What’s all this?’ You asked, finally pulling away as you could look at him and the sympathetic look on his face almost set you off again, but Mason was quick to kiss your forehead and look at you softly again.

‘Well I thought you deserved a bit of relaxation while I cooked for us’ he confirmed. ‘Happy valentines, boo’

‘Happy valentine’s, Masey’ you smiled, reaching up to give him a soft and sweet kiss. ‘What are you making?’

‘I’m not sure yet’ he laughed. ‘Any requests?’

‘Well I was hoping you would stay with me in here, I’ve missed you’ you told him shyly. ‘We can always order food’

‘Yeah? Okay let’s do that’ he nodded shyly. ‘C’mere, let’s get you in’

Mason helped to undress you so you were ready for your bath. Kissing your skin gently as he carefully removed each piece of clothing and helped you into the perfectly warm water as you felt all your troubles melt away into the bubbles.

He happily sat on the floor next to you as you chatted away and you finally opened up to him about how your friends had been acting with you lately as well as everything else you’d already mentioned. He sympathised with you as he sometimes felt that way himself and apologised for neglecting you for the last few weeks.

‘Come get in with me?’ You asked after 15 minutes or so, watching his eyebrows raise in shock as his cheeks turned pink but now you’d said it all you could think about was relaxing your body into his.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah why not’ you laughed. ‘I wanna feel close to you’ you pouted and you could see his blush deepening from a mile off. Watching him gently standing up so he could whip his clothes off and you shuffled down the tub a bit so he could slide in behind you.

You didn’t ask for it, but as he began to massage your shoulders you could have melted into the water. You didn’t realise how uptight and tense you were until his fingers began to work away at your knots and it felt so good a shiver ran up your spine. The warm water of your bath felt like a safe blanket lapping against you and you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this type of treatment.

‘That okay?’ He murmured into the side of your head but it was like you could barely string a sentence together and your whole body felt like it was floating.

‘That’s perfect’ you mumbled, feeling more relaxed and loved than you had in weeks and you knew he was laughing at you as you felt his chest rumble against your back.

‘I’m not very good at this, but I’ve picked up a few tricks from having them done so often’ he laughed but soon enough his hands were traveling down your arms and holding you around your waist so he could hold you close and talk to you without any distractions. ‘So listen I need you to pack a bag tonight’ he mumbled in your ear and you turned your head to look up at him questioningly.

‘Are you kicking me out?’

‘No’ he laughed. ‘But I bet after that you could do with a proper massage, right? Well I’ve booked us into a spa for the weekend with a slightly delayed valentines dinner tomorrow night. It’s in London though so we’ll have a bit of an early start if that’s okay’’

‘I thought we weren’t making a fuss’ you whispered, your face breaking out into a smile so wide your cheeks hurt but he was looking back at you so lovingly it was like you could feel him coursing through your veins.

‘I know, but you deserve it’ he affirmed. Kissing your forehead softly as he stroked his thumbs over your skin ‘Then Sunday we’ve got lunch with your parents. I organised it the other day so I think that’s worked out pretty well’ he winked, feeling tears well in your eyes again for the millionth time that night but this time it was for a whole different reason.

‘What? Really’

‘Yes’ he nodded. ‘I knew you must have been missing them and since we’ll be down there I thought we could make the most of it’

‘Thank you’ you gulped. Reaching up to kiss him properly and it was like you were having your first kiss all over again, carefully kissing each other like you had all the time in the world.

When you were both ready to get out, Mason jumped out first to grab your towel from the heater before walking you back over to your shared bedroom to get changed. A huge bunch of red roses on the bed waiting for you and you had to tell yourself to hold it together as you’d you’d done tonight was cry.

Mason grabbed you a pair of shorts and one of his favourite comfy tops that you loved to wear for you to change into and while he was putting in your food order, you grabbed an overnight bag and began to pack.

‘Where are we going for dinner tomorrow night, Mase?’ You questioned as you fingered through some of your nicer things on your rack but you didn’t want to be overdressed if it was somewhere more casual.

‘It’s a surprise’

‘But I need to know what to pack’ you pouted, hoping you’d be able to get a little more from him than that but he seemingly didn’t want to give too much away.

‘Something nice’ he shrugged, locking his phone before standing up to join you and you placed your hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

‘Those new pjs you got me for Christmas are nice, maybe I’ll just wear those’ you teased, hoping you could taunt him into telling you and from the way he rolled his eyes you knew it was working.

‘Okay fine’ he laughed. ‘You should pack that black dress, you know the one you’ve been saving for a certain restaurant’

‘You didn’t’ you breathed, not knowing if he was just messing with you or if he’d actually got the pair of you into the restaurant you’d always wanted to try but from the nod of his head you knew he was making your dream come true. ‘Mase’

‘I know you were meant to go there with your girlfriends and I know I was meant to get you a table and never did cause I’m a rubbish boyfriend and I forgot’ he laughed, bumping his nose against yours as you both giggled before his face got serious ‘but I know they’ve been trying all the places you wanted without you so I thought we could keep this one just for us’

‘Thank you’ you pouted, reaching up to kiss him gently and he deepened it straight away. You hadn’t kissed each other like this in days and you could have quite easily taken it further but it was Mason who pulled away first much to your dismay.

‘Easy there, boo. We’ve got food on the way and there’s nowhere near enough time for me to do what I want with you’ he told you lowly, his voice thick and warm like honey and it made your insides quiver. ‘I’ll make it worth your while if you wait’

‘You always do’ you winked and you noticed how he blushed at your words.

‘Come on boo, we’ll go set the table yeah? Eat like proper humans for a change’ he laughed as he took your hand and you laughed along with him as he led you out of your room. Your mood a lot lighter than it was just over an hour ago and you couldn’t wait to finally spend your first Valentine’s Day under the same roof with the boy you loved most in the world.

y/n

liked by masonmount and others

y/n quick trip home for some well needed downtime and a visit to somewhere I’ve always wanted to go with my valentine ♥️

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masonmount anything for my girl ♥️

y/n love you sm 🥰 🤭

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taelophone · 1 day ago

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Teeth n Tongue

⟡ — Thinking about reader with an oral fixation…

At first, he notices your habit of biting and chewing on the tips of your pens or the wood of your pencil. Your teeth would gnash and grind against the material— a sound he found to be rather unpleasant at times.

Then it’s lollipops and long-lasting candies like jawbreakers and ring pops. The rainbow confectioneries would gloss your lips with pops and shimmers of color, drawing his attention right towards your lips every time you spoke to him.

And when candy wasn’t enough, he started tossing chewelry your way, held around your neck by a black or white elastic tie and a pretty pink clasp. Originally he got it for you as a joke— giggling like a child as he handed you the silicone bone like it was a sword forged from the fires of Vulcan himself.

“I thought this was funny…I’m sure you’ll enjoy it though,” he’d say, tossing you the silicone-skeletal necklace and not expecting you to use it.

But his world turned upside down when he saw you perched on the couch with your lips wrapped around the northern end of your murky white necklace and a little red handkerchief tied around your neck to save your cotton shirt from the oncoming drool that came from your jaw‘s constant work.

He’d be incredibly rude if he didn’t provide his darling girlfriend with the stimulation she clearly so desperately needed.

Pants and heavy moans filled the living room; the sticky, sloppy, slippery sounds of sexual frustration and overstimulation echoed off the walls as Luigi bullied his fat dick through your plush walls.

“Lu—! Luigi..” you panted, his hand pushing your legs as close to your chest as your anatomy would allow while his thumb began to force entry into your mouth.

“Fuck…Shh, let me hear her,” he grunted, trying not to cum on the spot as your tongue attacked the pad of his thumb.

Soon his thumb departed from your lips, a string of silvery and shiny saliva left behind before he pushed his pointer, middle, and ring finger right back into your hot and humid maw. Greedy with gluttony, you eagerly accepted the oral stimulation as his fingers pressured against your pink tongue.

The slick slapping sounds that filled the room almost blocked out the sinful symphony of your lips greedily sucking on your boyfriend's fingers. The ivory bone sat neatly between your collarbones, a saccharine sign of just how much Luigi would always love your mouth and the things it could do.

#luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione smut #tatum blurb

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jellymochii · 13 hours ago

Text

Stray Kids - Valentine's Day Headcanons

ᡣ𐭩 pairings: OT8 SKZ x fem!Reader

ᡣ𐭩 genre: fluff, smut

ᡣ𐭩 wc: 1.5k

ᡣ𐭩 cw: smut, dacryphilia, oral, mentions of bondage/d!ldos, dry humping, unprotected s3x (pls don't unless you want STD's for Valentine's Day)

↪author's note: hello! sorry I've been gone so long and not finished my NingNing fic, but to make it up to you I've whipped this up. happy Valentine's Day and hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

ᡣ𐭩Chan

His dad always taught him to be a classy man–and so he's gonna make sure you're well taken care of for such a special day.

He bought you that long red dress you've been eyeballing for a while and adorned you with shiny pearled jewelry. (And a giant bouquet of flowers)

He takes you to the most high end restaurant in the city (which took 6 months reservation in advance) with a staff member dressed all nice like a chauffeur.

Expensive steaks, lobster tail, or even chicken nuggets. Whatever you want, he'll get you.

Lots of food in your belly to prepare for…y'know, the baby he's about to put in you.

What, like he wasn't gonna fill you to the brim with cum after you looked this good for him?

It's almost as if he knew that you were planning on skipping your birth control that day in the hopes you'd finally get to be filled.

Oh and you're up for hours, he's not stopping until your poor cunt is leaking with all his babies, and he'll get a few more loads in just to make sure it stays put in your cervix.

“C'mon baby, you don't want anything leaking out d'ya? Right, now stay still and let daddy give you that baby you wanted~.”

There's nothing more romantic to both of you than being given a cute little symbol of your love in 9 months.

ᡣ𐭩Minho

The bad news is that he did not, infact, get the day off work. There's lots of love he has to send to STAY before he can get home to you.

The good news is that now that Idol Minho is off work, Chef Minho has arrived!

He always keeps your favorite dish in the back of his mind and he knows you've been begging him to make it these past few weeks, but he wanted to save it today to make it extra special.

You'll smell it from a mile away, but as soon as you walk in the dining table is lit with candles and a big flower centerpiece to top it off.

Looks at you with so much love as you absolutely devour your plate like a wild tiger.

Speaking of absolutely devouring

Normally you and Minho have a strict dom/sub relationship with him asserting and taking control.

But today he just wants to show you that despite all the harsh punishments he has to give you, you're still the love of his life.

And that includes devouring your cunt for hours.

“Mmmh, my precious little pussy. You're this wet just for me?”

ᡣ𐭩Changbin

CRUISE TIME BABYYYYY

No but fr he wasn't sure what to do and even asked Chaeryeong what kind of stuff girls like.

Eventually he settled on taking the week off and spending time with you by the seaside, providing both a relaxing and loving vacation.

You two get to explore some cute islands and eat feasts of chocolate alongside a paradise of other loving couples.

And sometimes you'll spend alone time too! He'll work out at the cruise gym while you relax by the poolside soaking up the island sun.

Oh and it's a good thing it's a honeymoon cruise (even if you two aren't married)

God bless whoever decided to make all the rooms on the ship soundproof because you're definitely gonna need it while he's rearranging your guts.

But let's be honest, the whole ship can still hear your strangled moans and the plap plap plap sounds coming from your room.

“Anngh, yeobo, you're so tight, I love this pussy.”

At least you can tell your kids they were created by the sea.

ᡣ𐭩Hyunjin

You can expect nothing but the sweetest from your lover boy.

He had Versace create a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers in a beautiful signature gold wrap.

His first thought on a date was doing the painting swap challenge from tiktok and seeing what the two of you could create.

There's paint on both of your noses by the end and kkami with an accidental blue spot on his fur from the crossfire of your paint war.

He tried to salvage your original drawing to no avail, but he still insists that he thinks it's perfect because it came from you.

His next surprise was a custom mold of his cock for you to play with whenever he was away on tour, but he insists on trying it on you first for “Quality Assurance” as he calls it.

It feels almost exactly like the real thing and reaches into your favorite spots exactly like his.

With his new ability to use the dildo AND his mouth simultaneously, you cum so many times that you're brain dead.

“You're so gorgeous, my angel. You look so pretty cumming on my cock–God, I love you so much.”

And he may have snapped a few photos of you like this to help him when he's not there next to you.

ᡣ𐭩Han

Have you ever dreamed of having a whole mixtape/album come out all about you?

Cause Jisung's got you covered

He'll have a whole listening party with some of his friends as you sit there trying not to cry from how sweet he is.

You can't stop kissing him and adoring him the rest of the night, it's like your wildest dreams have come true.

How could you not reward such a good boy?

Oh you both are getting the NASTIEST sex tonight.

Dildos, cuffs, chains–every toy gets brought in out of desperation.

You're both just so desperate to fuck eachother before you even leave that he's pressed up against you on the subway humping your ass like a dog.

“Mmmph, please! I-I need more!.”

You're in for a long night of multiple orgasms from both of you.

ᡣ𐭩Felix

You've been eyeballing the amusement park 2 towns over for a while now, and what better time to take you than now?

The illuminating fair lights turned pink for the special day makes you both giddy.

The first stop is obviously the Rollercoaster, you're having the time of your life while Felix is fighting off demons trying not to pass out.

Then you'll get to go on the new pink ferris wheel and give your lover a kiss at the top.

Alongside buying you all the fair food you can eat, he spots a pair of gold rings from a vendor that he just HAS to buy you.

After coming back from buying them and watching you struggle on the shooting game for a giant teddy bear, he steps in and uses his gamer experience to win it for you!

And he's gonna make you hump it for him as soon as you get home.

Don't worry, he'll fuck you eventually, but watching you desperately get off on the fluffy fabric while staring at him with teary puppy eyes makes his dick throb.

“Fuck you look so sexy like that. Keep going so I can cum on your pretty face, mkay?”

ᡣ𐭩Seungmin

Since your first date was at the vintage arcade down the street, he decided to bring you right back to where it all started.

Life's been a total dream since you two started dating, but you're reminded in times like these why he's such a tease.

He'll never let you forget how much better he is at video games than you are, especially Guitar Hero and the OG Sonic.

You're also getting your ass whooped at Dance Dance Revolution too.

He'll let you win at 1 or 2 games though just so you don't pout at him later.

You know what his favorite game is though?

Edging you, duh.

You swear you have no idea where he learned to use his fingers so skillfully. He's throat deep in your pussy while his fingers twist your nipples to perfection.

“Why are you squirming away? I thought you loved it when I broke you down jagi.”

And you do, there's no better gift you could've gotten today than being nothing more than a brain dead fuckdoll for your sweet boyfriend.

ᡣ𐭩Jeongin

You guys are still fairly new to your relationship and it's your first Valentine's Day.

So he wants to make it as perfect as possible. He asks Chris and the rest of the boys what kind of stuff he should do for you and tries to pack it all together in one night.

Unfortunately for him the place he wanted to take you caught on fire, the flowers got delivered to the wrong address, and the ring he ordered you was smaller than what he wanted.

The poor boy can't even look you in the eye as he’s telling you all of this, but you reassure him that none of the material stuff matters–as long as he’s by your side.

The two of you settle for takeout and a movie at your place with lots of cuddles and kisses.

There was still a chance for him to have one thing he planned go his way though.

While the two of you have dealt in the occasional oral/fingering, he wanted to overcome his fear of intimacy and actually have sex with you.

Thankfully all his wildest dreams came true the moment he slipped into you and was immediately sent straight into Heaven.

“F-fuuuuck, you’re everything–so beautiful, perfect and tight.”

Even if Valentine's Day didn't go the way he originally wanted, he wouldn't ask for anything else–bring inside of you and feeling your love was all he needed.

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revelboo · 2 days ago

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😭😭😭😭b-127 I miss my silly BOI bring him back and my little is your!.... pretty please 🥺

Sure!

The Coma Kid Pt 7

B 127 x Reader

• Startling when he drags the mangled remains of half a semi trailer into his habsuite, you see the Walmart logo on the side as he tips it up on its end and everything in it crashes to the back before he’s reaching in and pulling out a pallet of water, handfuls of Walmart stock boxes and piling them up on his berth near you. You’d only asked if he had any food. You really hope the truck was parked somewhere and that he didn’t run a semi down like a hungry cheetah. Well. That’s a horrifying thought. Not really wanting to ask, you wander over and tear open a box, shying away when he dumps a plastic wrapped bundle of 50lb Ol’Roy bags on the berth. Please let there be human food. “Is this good? Everything you need? I can get more,” he says, watching you.

• Anxiously hovering as you begin opening boxes, you nod faintly, but don’t answer. Just digging in a box before moving to the next one. And then the next before pulling out a smaller box, tearing it open and ripping open a foil packet to pull out a pink and tan rectangle. That you take a bite of, nose wrinkling. That’s human food? Servos nervously drumming on his thigh, he watches you chew, gripping the thing in your teeth to resume digging through boxes. “I’ve been thinking about asking Wheeljack to make some modifications to my habsuite. You know, just for the time being. We’re going to need more space once the sparklings arrive, right? I mean, of course, we do.”

• He’s rambling again. Sparklings. You almost suspect that means babies which is just impossible. Just because the two of you can fuck, doesn’t mean you can have kids. Taking another bite, you pull open a box and have to force yourself not to react. Hello, sporting goods. And rope. It’s a box full of plastic wrapped bundles of nylon rope. Hopefully enough to get down from his stupid berth first chance you’re left unsupervised. Making yourself move to the next box, you tear it open. Soups with pull-tab tops. About as appealing as your pop tart. “You did good,” you say, taking another bite.

• “Really?” Wishes you’d look at him. Smile for him. But it’s okay. You’ll come around, you’re meant to be together, he can feel it. Feel that pull to just hold you in his arms, soothe himself with the beat of heart and the sound of your breathing. Servos gripping his thigh before he rocks back, he smiles for you. Hoping it makes you feel happier. Knows you’re not happy with him right now, but he’ll prove he’s a good mate. That he can provide and take care of you. And he won’t ever have to be alone again. Everything will be okay. “I love watching you.” Those eyes flick up at him. Looking at him. Listening. “Love those eyes,” headds, encouraged that you’re paying attention to him. That you see him. “Your voice. Primus, I love your voice.”

• Staring down at you, those big blue optics are almost pleading. “Love you, too,” you mutter, lying for him and he grins, dropping to his knees in front of the berth, reaching a servo to brush against your thigh. Babbling away, voice reverent. Waxing poetic about every aspect of you and it’s a little bit cute. And you push down the guilt, moving away from his touch to open the next box. He’d kidnapped you. Even if you feel that same need to be near him, you don’t want it. Don’t want to spend the rest of your life here being fawned over by one overzealous, lovesick alien robot. He’ll get over it when you disappear. He’ll be fine.

#transformers x reader #b 127 x reader #b 127

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kashverse · 3 hours ago

Text

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one�� slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate.

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed.

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

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xoxochb · 1 day ago

Text

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“what’re you doing?” your eyes hold mock mortification.

“getting another blanket.”

you open you mouth to conquer a response, a protest, or anything at all but it ultimately snaps shut.

he opens his closet door and disregarding anything you would have planned to say. he finds two blankets there. one is a baby shade of blue with small white clouds on it, and the other is a darker blue with sharks just like his sheets.

“you don’t need another blanket, perseus, you already have three!”

“I beg to differ.”

percy walks back to the bed with the shark blanket. he throws it on the bed as he gets comfortable back underneath the three blankets he already has, before sprawling the fourth over the others.

despite the zero pieces of clothing lack of clothing on your end, you still feel overly warm. you fake a cry and sink into the pillow. “my legs are hot, percy! I’m gonna get heat stroke.”

“I won’t let that happen, sweet girl.”

to contradict that, he pulls your body against his. though your happy to know that his skin is cold in comparison to yours. you curl into him.

“you’re cold.”

“why do you think I got another blanket?”

you shrug. “because you like to do things in spite of me?”

“no, I love you.”

you roll your eyes and splay your hands on his back. “I don’t know why I talk to you.”

“because I’m sexy and also I let you six-nine me.”

you groan and grab a fistful of his hair tightly before sliding yourself away from him, taking the four blankets with you.

“get away from me!”

“awww, come back, sweet girl. you’re warm.”

“no!”

but regardless of what you say, you let him pull you back against his frame. lucky for him, he provides you with coldness. he nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

“warm.”

“yes, I am warm. it’s hot on this bed and I am going to suffocate.”

“I won’t let you.”

you whine. “just let me take off one blanket!”

“you want me to get hypothermia? I thought you loved me, sweet girl.”

“more than anything, but trust me when I say you don’t need four blankets.”

“oh?” he smirks. “are you saying that you’re warm enough to provide for me?”

it took you a whole thirty seconds to decipher the double meaning behind that.

but don’t fear, you had the fourth blanket taken off the bed in retaliation to his comment.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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temporarywelcome · 2 days ago

Text

Conversation with Agent Hotchner - Spencer Reid

REQUESTED!

The Request: Hi, love your work ❤️ Request: What is kleptomaniac!reader went to the BAU but instead of seeing spencer see goes and sees another BAU member and starts yapping to them about everything and nothing (probably amusing [annoying] the fuck out of them too) and it gets to the point where Spencer has to drag them away. [I can totally see her doing this to Hotch with no fear] Thanks, bye :3 - anonymous

CW: language, some suggestive comments, technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series though this can be read 100% standalone. Though, if you want to learn more about reader's relationship with Henry, you can read "Babysitting" and "Turkey". not required tho! :)

AN: Spencer comes in more towards the middle lol

_______

Words: 1.5k

She was no dog.

Yes, she was being dramatic, but Spencer telling her to sit and stay made her huff, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance (while doing as told, sitting and staying). Spencer had his reasons, considering she was a diagnosed kleptomaniac and was very likely going to steal things. It was better she stole from his desk and not someone else’s.

So she sat as he ran to help JJ and Garcia with something. Sat and ate her Subway sandwich with a pout on her face. She had brought Spencer lunch, a toasted sub that was surely getting cold while it waited for him. A shame, because she had made sure the employee making the sandwich had warmed up not just the bread, but the contents inside as well, knowing Spencer and his tastes.

Soon, her sandwich was gone, along with objects that were on Spencer’s desk (to her pockets they went), and she was swinging her legs back and forward like a child. Looking around and scanning other people in the office. People watching.

Boring.

Then her eyes landed on a familiar member of the BAU, and she grinned. Entertainment! Someone to keep her company while she waited for her lovely boyfriend to return from his treacherous adventure into the unknown (the filing room).

That someone was Agent Hotchner. Hotch.

“Aaron!” she said brightly, giving him a big wave.

Hotch, who was walking towards his office, nose buried in a manila folder, looked up at her, “Hello, Y/N,” he said politely, giving her a half-smile. Quarter smile? Something.

She shot up from the chair Spencer had provided for her, strolling towards him, “How is everything? How are Jack and Haley?”

“They are good, I appreciate you asking,” Always the professional one, Agent Hotchner. “Jack actually said he missed you,”

Huh?

Somehow, Y/N, who didn’t even like kids, was like a BAU-kid magnet. JJ’s son, Henry, adored her, and was practically on top of her every time they saw each other. Just recently, Jack met Y/N at an event, and it seems she left a good impression on him.

“Oh, really?” she asked in shock, brows raised, “Cool! He’s a nice kid,” her eyes landed on the file in Hotch’s hand, “So, whatcha got there?”

“...a file,” Hotch replied vaguely.

“For what though?” she was not taking a hint.

“Work,”

“Hm,” she nodded, in thought, “I work at night,”

“You do?” he went back to looking down at his folder.

She nodded again, “Yes! As a dancer,” she paused, “Wait, that sounds weird. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being that kind of dancer, it’s just I am not one of them, y’know? I do professional dance and musical theatre, my rehearsals are at night-”

“I know what you do for a living,” Hotch interrupted, “JJ and Will took Henry to one of your shows, correct?”

“Yes! They did,” Y/N confirmed proudly, “I could hear Henry cheering from afar!”

“How nice,”

Her brows furrowed, surveying Hotch’s expression. You don’t need to be a profiler to see how uninterested he was. “You don’t give a fuck, do you?”

“Language,”

“Sorry,” she awkwardly looked down, like a scolded child, “You guys don’t swear? What if it is a really stressful case? You never say ‘fuck this stupid shit’ or anything…?

The older man looked up, making eye contact with her. “No,”

“Why not? Are you not allowed to let out frustration or anything? Is letting out a good swear really that bad?” she began fiddling with something in her fingers, Hotch’s eyes trailed down to her hands, seeing what she was fidgeting with.

“...what the fuck,”

“Hey! You just swore!” she exclaimed, before eyeing the object in her hands. His ID badge. She didn’t even remember swiping it during this conversation. “Oh. I see why,” Awkwardly clearing her throat, she handed it back to him, cheeks rosy.

“This is the second time you’ve done this,” a sigh left him, clipping the badge back onto his suit jacket.

An equally awkward laugh escaped her lips, “That’s nothing compared to the amount of times I stole Rossi’s keys- I mean, I mean…” she clamped her mouth shut. “Nevermind.”

As she dug herself into an even deeper hole, Spencer returned from the filing room with JJ and Garcia. “...yes, a cluster of bananas are called a “hand”, while each individual banana called a “finger- hey!” he gasped as Garcia gave him a little wack on the shoulder.

“Y/N is out in the wild,” she said, eyes locked on Y/N enthusiastically telling Hotch something. “Talking to Hotch,”

“Better than Rossi,” JJ pointed out. Rossi liked Y/N the least, only recently beginning to tolerate her. She tilted her head to the side as she examined Spencer’s girlfriend. “She’s moving like a Sim,”

Spencer looked at JJ in confusion as Garcia burst into laughter. “What does that mean?”

She ignored him, “Go save her, Romeo, she’s drowning over there,”

And so Spencer rushed over to join his girlfriend in her conversation with Hotch.

“...why, yes, I’m great with my fingers,” she explained, “-on piano! Holy hell, I should have said that better. Holy hell-” her face burned red as she silently prayed for an earthquake to hit so she can be swallowed by the Earth.

“-Y/N, can you help me with something?” Spencer placed a hand on her shoulder, grip slightly tighter than usual. A message. Shut the fuck up.

Alas, her savior has arrived! “Yes, of course. I’ll gladly help you,”

And with that, Spencer was dragging her off by her wrist.

“I told you to stay seated,” he scolded, pushing her down into the chair by her shoulders, “I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You know I get bored easily,” she shot back.

“Imma have to get you one of those bookbags with a leash on it,” the genius pinched the bridge of his nose, “Like a toddler,”

The frown quickly left her lips, replaced with a big smirk, “I know what I can do with a leash,”

“What do you mean- Y/N!” he looked around frantically to ensure no one was listening, “We are at my job!” he placed a hand on his throat protectively, as if to keep her away.

She wiggled her brows playfully, “C’mon, you know that was a good one. I’m a genius for that.” She then noticed Hotch scurry off to his office with his usual pitbull expression. “Ugh, that conversation I had with him was so awful. I couldn’t stop being annoying,”

“Great with your fingers, huh?”

A look of horror formed on her face, jaw falling in shock, “You heard that?”

“Mhm,” Spencer finally seated himself next to her, clicking his pen and beginning to write on some paperwork.

“Well,” Scooting her chair closer to him, she whispered, “I can always demonstrate,”

“Piano?”

“Ugh,” Forget it. She leaned back, unamused. “You’re no fun,”

And with that, Spencer went back to work, complaining because his food was cold now, which she wanted to hear nothing about considering she had made sure his food was warmed up to his liking. He worked, complained, ate, she listened, also complained, messed around. The usual experience.

Occasionally, Y/N found herself glancing back at Hotch’s office, a sense of dread filling her each time. Rossi, her number one hater, entered the office, making her grimace.

“What if they start talking about me?”

“Why would they?” her boyfriend didn’t even bother looking up from his work.

“Because they hate me, of course,”

“Nobody hates you,”

“Liar,”

Rossi eventually left Hotch’s office, and soon so did he, making his way towards Reid’s desk. Fuck. Y/N reached out, grasping Spencer’s hand tightly, which in turn caused him to scribble and scold her for being so dramatic and now Hotch was directly in front of them shit-

“Reid,”

“Yes, sir?” Spencer yanked his hand back, looking up at his boss apologetically.

“Would you like to have dinner with Haley, Jack, and I?” he asked, surprising both Spencer and Y/N equally.

“Dinner?” he repeated slowly, eyes darting to his girlfriend then back to Hotch.

“Yes. You and Y/N,”

‘And me?’ she almost pointed at herself for clarification, instead clasping her hands in her lap.

“Um, that should be fine. Y/N, do you have work tonight?”

“No,” she choked out, “I do not,”

“Perfect,” Hotch gave his signature quarter-smile, “Jack will be very excited to see you. I’ll let them know,”

He turned on his heel, walking off and leaving both Spencer and his girlfriend completely in shock. This obviously was not the first time Spencer would be having dinner with Hotch, but the fact Y/N was invited as well, especially after that whole debacle, was incredibly surprising.

“...do you still think he hates you?” Spencer asked playfully, pinching her cheek before turning back to his desk. “No one can hate someone like you,”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #bau team #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg fic

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littlefireball · 2 days ago

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Hi I'd like to request something for the 500 follower event. Is it possible to do a dilf yunho × reader where reader has to babysit his kid. Reader is a broke college student that is desperate for any job that pays. She happens to see a listing for a babysitter even though she doesn't have experience. She takes the job any way. I'm bad with details but I would like smut in it. I would also like some tension between reader and dad yunho even though they don't vocalize their feelings. But he definitely finds her attractive when they first meet. That's all! Thank you

ʏʜ|[ᴍ]|ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱɪɴɢ ʟɪɴᴇ

ᴅɪʟꜰ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ x ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.2ᴋ

(a/n: sorry for being late)

"A babysitter, huh?" Y/N pondered as you scanned the job advertisement. As a cash-strapped college student, any paycheck was a lifeline, so you decided to go for it, despite your lack of experience.

You never thought that you would be hired. The employer is a thirty-something single dad with a daughter who is more than four years old. You made your way to the address provided in the message and found yourself standing at his doorstep.

The sound of the door bell echoed as you fidgeted nervously, waiting for an answer. The thrill of being hired still lingered, though a shadow of uncertainty loomed over you—why had he chosen you? Suddenly, the door swung open, and there stood a tall, muscular man, his sharp jawline highlighted a serious, almost intimidating expression.

"You must be the babysitter, Y/N right?" He said, sizing you up with a critical glance..

"Yes, I am," you replied, trying to sound confident despite the butterflies in your stomach. He ushered you inside, and you followed him into a sprawling penthouse apartment. The high ceilings and pristine white walls were a stark contrast to your cozy one-bedroom.

"My daughter is asleep in her room," Yunho said with his low voice, leading you to the child's room. "I need you to watch her while I'm away for the night."

"Alright." You nodded, still nervous. "Any special instructions?"

"Just make sure she stays in bed," He said, gesturing towards the little girl in the room. "Her name is Aurora."

"Aurora…what a pretty name." You moved closer to her bed, admiring her soft, peaceful features. She looked like an angel, her small hand clutching a plush toy close to her chest.

Yunho followed close behind, the click of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeted floor. He stood by the bedroom door, his gaze never leaving you, as if assessing your every move. The intense scrutiny made you want to squirm, but you maintain your composure, focusing all your attention on the tiny girl.

"Anything else?" You inquired.

"No," Yunho said curtly, his eyes still drilling into you. "Just put her to sleep and make sure she doesn't get out of bed. I shouldn't be gone for more than a few hours." You nodded silently.

"I'll be in my office if you need me," He nodded, turning to leave but pausing briefly at the door to look back at you with those intense eyes. "And Y/N?"

You looked up at him, startled. "Yes?"

He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of something almost like concern passing over his features, before he nodded in dismissal. "Nothing, just…take good care of my daughter."

You nodded with a smile and he went back to his room. He watched you from the hallway outside Aurora's room, his expression stoic and almost unreadable. He observed intently as you softly caressed Aurora's cheeks and gently brushed her hair. He noted how delicately you handled his precious daughter, how your touch seemed so natural and soothing.

Yunho's gaze moved to a collection of framed photos that stood on a nearby table. They were photos of him and his late wife, a beautiful woman with a warm smile that radiated affection.

As he looked at the photos, he couldn't help but draw comparisons between you and her. The way you tilted your head, the way you smiled, the way you talked to Aurora – it all reminded him of her. It was uncanny.

He was taken aback when he stumbled upon your application. You resembled her in her youth, just as he remembered from their first encounter. The urge to bring you on board was irresistible, even in the absence of experience. A thought flickered in his mind—perhaps, just perhaps, fate had conspired to reunite him with her once more.

But a sense of melancholia washed over him at the same time. This wasn't right. You were just a babysitter. He had no right to feel this way, to see you as a replacement for his lost love.

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off these confusing feelings.

—---

This job isn't as challenging as you imagined, perhaps due to the presence of a little angel. Aurora, unlike her father, is perpetually cheerful, her smile lighting up the room as she eagerly shares her delightful school adventures. Who could resist such an adorable girl? Aurora thrived on your attention, often taking your hand to invite you into her world of toys or to share her favorite stories. Each time you interacted with her, her bright smile seemed to shine even more brilliantly.

The stark difference between her and her father creates an unspoken rule: you always steal a glance at him. Curiosity gnaws at you, wondering if he might crack a smile. His expression is perpetually serious, leaving you anxious about whether you've upset him. Yet, as time passes, you realize that his demeanor is simply a reflection of his serious nature. Initially, it feels a bit unsettling, but you gradually acclimate to it. Your eyes are drawn to him, almost as if an invisible force compels you to look, turning it into a familiar habit.

As you cared for his daughter, you found yourself stealing glances at Yunho. Your eyes would linger on him, taking in his tall, muscular frame and his strong, chiseled features.

Despite your best efforts to resist, you couldn't help the growing attraction you felt towards him. His commanding presence, the intense look in his eyes, and his deep, melodic voice all stirred something within you. It was a confusing mix of curiosity and desire, and you weren't sure how to handle it.

Every time Yunho looked at you with his sharp gaze, your heart would skip a beat. You couldn't shake off the feeling that he was assessing you, trying to decipher your thoughts. There was something about the way he looked at you, a combination of intensity and curiosity, that left you slightly unnerved but also intrigued.

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, but they seemed to intensify every time he was near. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to be closer to him, to have his full attention focused solely on you.

Your feelings were complicated, conflicted. On one hand, you knew it was inappropriate to feel this way towards the man who had hired you merely to watch over his daughter. But on the other hand, you couldn't deny the attraction you felt, the way your body responded to him in a maddening way.

You both remained quiet, exchanging only fleeting looks filled with unspoken words. Yet, Aurora caught the slight exchange of glances between you and her father. Her bright eyes sparkled with mischief as she made up her mind to playfully poke fun at you.

"Y/N?" she said, her voice filled with a mischievous tone, "You like Papa, right?" You were taken aback by her sudden question, your cheeks flushing slightly. You tried to brush it off, but Aurora was determined to get a reaction out of you.

"C'mon, you can tell me," she said with a cheeky grin. "My Papa is handsome and it is normal you like him."

"I'm not..!When did you learn this?huh?" You tried to steer the conversation away, but she wouldn't let up. She seemed to delight in the idea of a romance between you and her father, even if it was just a harmless tease.

"Don't lie~~ I know that~"

"Ah!You spoiled kid." you pretended to be angry but you couldn't hold back the smile. "Stop it. You're just imagining things."

"No~~"

"YES!" You pulled her onto your laps and held her firmly. "Don't say it in front of your father."

"Why not??"

Your Papa is just really tired, okay? So let him be. You stammered, trying to come up with a reason for her to back off. "And look, it's already 9 PM. Time for you to hit the hay."

"Ah no~ You still haven't answered me~" She whined, clearly not satisfied.

"Absolutely not. Your dad is on his way home. Do you really want him to catch you awake and give you a lecture?"

"No way!! Papa is scary." She quickly broke free from your hold and dashed back to her bed. "Y/N, please don't tell Papa I'm still awake."

You shook your head, a soft sigh escaping your lips as a light chuckle followed. Stepping into her room, you carefully tucked her in and turned off the light. "Sleep well, sweetheart." you whispered, gently closing the door behind you, finally exhaling the breath you hadn't noticed you were holding.

As you turned around, your heart skipped a beat as you saw Yunho coming back from work, loosening his tie and shirt. "She's sleeping?"

"Ye…yes." A hesitant smile crept across your face as you nodded, your eyes glued to him, unable to look away. His delicate fingers danced down the line of buttons, unfastening them slowly, deliberately. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed the tie aside, tilting his head slightly as he stretched. You felt a lump in your throat, your heart pounding wildly as the fabric of his shirt slipped to reveal his collarbone.

The room felt unbearably silent as you stood there, caught in Yunho's gaze. It seemed as if time had stopped, with only the sound of your own beating heart filling the air.

Yunho's expression was unreadable. He didn't smile or sneer, just held your gaze with a steady intensity that made your heart flutter.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice deep and melodic. "Enjoying the view?"

Your cheeks flushed even deeper at his comment. He caught you red-handed, and now he was teasing you about it. You tried to come up with a witty reply, but your mind was blank, consumed by the mixture of embarrassment and attraction you felt.

"I...I wasn't-" you stuttered, trying to compose yourself. "I was just-"

Yunho raised an eyebrow, his expression amused, as if he was enjoying your flustered state. "Just what? Admiring the wallpaper?"

"I... I was just lost in thought," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly shaky.

Yunho leaned against the doorframe, his intense gaze still fixed on you. "You seem to get lost in thought a lot," he remarked, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your heart flutter at his response. It was as if he was aware of the effect he had on you, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You tried to regain your composure, straightening your shoulders and clearing your throat. "I... I should probably check on Aurora," you said, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze.

Yunho chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that sent chills down your spine. "She's already asleep. Doesn't she?"

"I…I guess…?But it…it's better for me to check…"

"Hm?No worries…she's a deep sleeper. You should know that…" Yunho mused, stepping closer to you. He took a look at your face…you really looked like his lost love…but you were different.

You lack her level of maturity; instead, you possess a certain innocence that stems from your limited experiences in life. You constantly attempt to conceal the yearnings that simmer within you, yet the harder you try to suppress them, the more they reveal themselves. A mere accidental brush of hands sends a flush to your cheeks. The way your body quivers slightly and your face warms ignites a deep desire within him once more.

His emotions for you might be intertwined with memories of a past love, yet what truly matters is the newness you introduce into his life. Each time he reflects on how tenderly you cared for Aurora, a wave of warmth washes over his heart. He yearns to hold onto that feeling indefinitely.

Yunho raised a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, but it sent shivers down your spine. His thumb traced the outline of your lips, the touch electric and intimate. "Now there's no one here…how convenient.."

You looked at him, realization dawning. Without Aurora around, it meant that you would be spending the entire night with him. Your heartrate quickened at the thought, a strange, flustered sensation settling in your chest.

He leaned closer, his face just a few inches from yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the scent of his cologne enveloping you in a heady cloud. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for something, some hint of hesitation or resistance. But he found none.

"That gives me all sorts of ideas," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Ideas that involve spending the night together…doing something other than work." He lifted his other hand, gently caressing your cheek with his knuckles. "And I think we both know what that's something is…" He murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, a hint of desire in his gaze.

His mouth hovered over yours, the space between you almost non-existent. You could feel his body pressing against you, the heat from his skin seeping through your clothes. It was all too much, the intensity, the proximity, the overwhelming connection between you.

"But," he continued, his thumb tracing the contour of your lips. "I don't want to make any assumptions. I want to hear it from you…tell me dear, what do you want to do with your free night today? With me?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You met his gaze, your mind racing with a million different thoughts and feelings. But there was something undeniable growing between you, a force almost too powerful to ignore.

You wet your lips nervously, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his mouth and back again. Your heart thrummed in your chest, your body trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment.

"I...I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "All of you."

"More specifically…how do you want me to claim you? Where do you want me to claim you?"

"I…guess…the…the bed…?"

"Ah, the bed." His eyes darkened with lust at your unexpected response. "I like the way you think…" But then, he took a step back, a coy grin on his face. "But why stop at the bed? I've got the whole house…and all night."

"I…I…" You stammered, unable to form a sentence as your brain blank. He chuckled at your blush, finding it amusing. "What do you say we make the most of your free time…and have some fun together?" His hands were still firmly on your hips, squeezing them from time to time. "After all, the possibilities are…endless,"

He nipped at your earlobe, sending a shudder through your body. "And I'm eager to explore all of them with you,"

"Yunho…I want you…"

Yunho's eyes darkened at your words, a low growl escaping from his throat. He pushed you back against the wall, his body pressed flush against yours, almost trapping you in place.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "Once we cross this line, there's no going back."

You met his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. You knew what he was implying, what he was asking. And despite the risk, the danger, you wanted it. You wanted him.

Your hands found their way to his chest once more, your grip tight and desperate.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "Please, Yunho. I need you."

Once you finished your words, his lips collided with yours in a passionate, commanding kiss, ignited by the fervor of your words and the rising heat that enveloped you both.

"Fuck..the things I'm going to do to you.

As the kiss deepened, his hands moved lower, trailing down your sides and resting on your hips. With a firm grip, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you back against the wall. "Hold onto me," The sudden change in positioning made you gasp into the kiss, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist."And don't let go," he adds, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm about to take you on a ride you won't forget.

He took advantage of your momentary distraction, his mouth moving from yours to your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh. You moaned softly, feeling his teeth graze the column of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. He moved lower, his lips tracing a path of kisses along your collarbone, his hands roaming across your back, exploring every inch of you.

You felt your body respond to his touch, your heart racing and your breath coming in ragged gasps. He seemed to sense your need, his touch growing rougher, more possessive.

Yunho's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his fingers teasing the soft skin of your stomach as he pulled it up and over your head.

He took a moment to admire the sight of you, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your breath. His eyes roved over your half-naked body, drinking you in with a look of unbridled desire.

"So beautiful…" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He couldn't seem to look away, his gaze burning with need.

Yunho's gaze never left yours as he hooked a finger through the elastic of your panties, pulling them down with one swift motion.

His eyes raked over your nearly naked body, taking in every curve and contour. He let out a low, guttural sound of appreciation, his hands moving to your hips, his grip tight as they traced small circles on your skin.

"Perfect..." he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Just absolutely perfect."

Yunho pressed himself against you, his body flush against yours, his breathing ragged and thick with desire. His lips found yours, his kiss rough and possessive, claiming you as his own. He positioned himself between your legs after pulling out his cock, his hardness against your thigh, teasing and tantalizing.

"Are you ready for this, dear?" He whispered against your ear, his words rough with need. "For me?"

You nodded, unable to form words, only able to feel the heat and desire coursing through you. Yunho noticed your silence and pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face.

"Use your words, dear. I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want."

Your cheeks grew red, but you forced yourself to speak. "I...I want you, Yunho. I want this."

The moment the words left your mouth, Yunho smirked, his eyes darkening with an intense hunger. "That's what I wanted to hear."

His hands found your hips once more, shifting your position slightly to fit himself between your legs even more snugly. You could feel the heat and friction between you, the anticipation building with each passing moment.

With a swift motion, he pressed himself against you, his hardness pressing at your entrance, a subtle warning of what was to come. His eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race.

"Let me in, dear." He murmured, the words barely more than a guttural growl. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. "Let me make you mine."

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat, unable to speak through the intensity of the moment. Yunho took your wordless response as the answer he was looking for, and with a swift, smooth motion, he surged forwards.

The heat and friction was almost overwhelming, and you gasped, your body arching involuntarily as he filled you, as if fitting exactly where he was supposed to go. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then began to move, slowly and deliberately, pulling you close to him with the grip he had on your hips.

He groaned, feeling your tight heat clench around him, your body responding to his, as if made for him, and only him. His lips found your neck again, biting and kissing the sensitive flesh.

"You're so good for me, so good," he murmured against your skin. "So tight, so perfect." He punctuated each word with a deeper thrust, driving himself further into you.

"All mine." He growled the words, the sound deep and territorial, marking you as his for all to know. You were his, and he was yours. And in that moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of his body, the way he made you feel. It was pure, unbridled ecstasy. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And there was no turning back. You were his, and he would be yours. Always. Forever. Until the end of time.

Yunho was quick with his movements, his body a symphony of action. He was a flurry of motion, his hips rolling into yours with a practiced and fluid motion. He set a punishing rhythm, his pace demanding and relentless. His hands gripped you tightly, your body moved and molded to his desires, his wants.

"You're mine, darling," He quickened his pace, his movements becoming more urgent. "Mine to claim, mine to possess. Say it. Say it for me."

"I'm yours…oh gosh…I am…fuck…"

You writhe and squirm under his touch, your body responding to his every move. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with an intensity of sensation you had never experienced before.

He picked up the pace, his hips moving faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. He moved his mouth to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving behind marks to show that you were his.

He changed the angle of his hips, seeking a deeper connection, as if trying to make you a part of him, to make you one with him. The way his cock battered your spot and rubbed along your wall made you insane, the urgency of release reaching the peak.

"Close…close…fuck…yunho"

"I'm here. I've got you." He murmurs, his words as sweet as honey yet his tone holding an edge, as he knew this would overpower you.

"Let go. Give yourself to me."

The heat was growing, overwhelming every sense, as you could feel it taking control.

His lips brushed your neck, kissing it softly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered again, "Let go for me. Say my name." he commanded.

You felt so vulnerable yet safe in his arms, you surrendered. Giving him more power and control of this moment. His power over you took over your mind and soul, your own thoughts were lost, replaced with his presence.

Your release was intense, an explosion of pleasure that shook your entire body.

Yunho's name escaped your lips like a prayer, the words leaving your mouth in a cry of ecstasy. He held you tight, his arms wrapped around you as you rode out the wave of pleasure. He whispered words of comfort and reassurance, his voice soft and tender, as he held you in the aftermath.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing your hair. "You're so beautiful. So good for me." He rained kisses on your face, your neck, your shoulder, his touch gentle and possessive all rolled into one.

"Yu…yunho…"

"Shh…don't be too loud…" He smirked, dropping a kiss on the mark he made. "We're not done yet…" His cock twitched as your wall squeezed hard, his pre-cum soaking your depth and creaming your velvet wall. "I'm still not cumming…" He pushed his length deep until you couldn't take it, your breath catching in your throat, struggling to adjust the overwhelmed pleasure.

"We still have a long night…"

—---

Yunho gently shook Aurora awake, running his fingers through her hair.

"Morning, sweetie," he said softly.

"Mmm, morning, Papa…" Aurora yawned, rubbing her eyes as she fought to wake up. "Where's y/n? Isn't she supposed to wake me up?"

"Oh, she's still sleeping because she's really tired. So it's Papa's job to wake you up."

"Hm... okay... can I see her?"

"Nope. Let her sleep a bit longer, alright? You can hang out with her after school."

"Alright..." She pouted a little. "Papa?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Did we have an earthquake last night?"

"Huh? No way. Why do you think that?"

"Hm?? Then why did I feel the wall shaking?" Yunho's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard. But he quickly composed himself and came up with an excuse.

"Maybe your bed is just a bit wobbly…?"

"Maybe? But I also heard y/n yelling. Is she okay?"

"No, no, no! She's perfectly fine. Just a little tired. There was no earthquake, no one got hurt, and no one yelled." Yunho rushed through his words, clearly a bit anxious. "Let's get ready for school, okay? Sounds good? Haha."

Aurora squinted, sensing that her dad was keeping something from her, but she just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Papa, you can't pull a fast one on me, alright?"

"Haha. I'm not lying. When have I ever lied to you?" Yunho forced a smile, his ears were blushing due to embarrassment. Maybe he should find a more private place next time…no he should do it when Aurora isn't here. Hmm…maybe it's time to bring her to her grandparents for a week.

He thought.

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