#delta x dream

[nashdoesstuff]

Oh yeah, it's Delta Sans.

Sorry for not making this clear XD

gotcha!

this was my first time drawing delta! thanks for the request!

[sandeewithtwoe]

If you're still accepting requests, you could draw Dream x Delta?

I think Delta needs more love-

Delta does need more love you are so right anon

I honestly think they would both get along great ngl. I’ve always thought Delta would admire Dream because he’s heard stories of her fights with Nightmare and how she’s still fighting for everyone’s safety and happiness after all she’s been through. It gives him hope that he’ll be just as strong as her :D

Holding him like he’s a princess (internally screaming)

Delta belongs to Animated Zorox

Dream belongs to Jokublog

[qin-qin16]

They have a cat or a dog behavior?

cw: Which of these Sans resembles the most a cat or a dog personality?

Certainly dog behavior. Some are like guard dogs: growling (literally, sometimes) at anyone who comes close to you — always with a hand on some part of your body, whether on your waist to pull you closer, or on your shoulder, protecting you from any potential danger. Their canines always leave a mark on your skin every time they give you gentle love bites, one of the few ways they can show the great affection they have. Fear of betrayal? With them, you don’t have to worry! They are so loyal that they won’t even let you go to the bathroom alone. Others, more gentle, will shower you with kisses and nuzzles, always by your side, smiling while talking about daily life (it’s almost possible to see a tail wagging behind them when they smiled so brightly at you).

Fell, Delta, Horror (guard dog), CROSS (pathetic dog), Swap, Dream (golden retriever) 

They bite you, leave little presents on your bed, and disappear for days only to come back home as if nothing ever happened. Some are so quiet that you barely feel their presence until they decide you need to know, while others are so noisy that it's impossible not to know which room they're in. Affection? You might get at most a handshake, or, with the most affection ones, hours and hours of them on top of you, preventing you from getting any work done for the day. If you could compare them to any animal, it would definitely be a cat (some more wild and others more tame).

INK (orange cat), KILLER, Error, FellSwap Gold (black cat), Geno (calico cat), Color Sans (tabby cat).

If they have any specific behavior, you’ve just created a category for them now: they don’t sleep, they don’t eat, and sometimes you question if they’re even breathing. The only thing you notice is that, no matter where you are, you can always feel their eyes on your back, always watching.

NIGHTMARE, Dust/Murder, FATAL ERROR

[howlsofbloodhounds]

for the anon asking about cross,

i think the reason people depict cross as being in nightmare's gang can be down to what fans were being up to back then.

the irl time between underverse 0.2 and 0.5 was very long, and during that time cross is still nominally a "bad guy" basically, working on nightmare's side often enough even. of course there's that clear expectation that cross will cross (heh) nightmare, but i think people really like the morally gray position that cross occupies in the story. if we're going by canon, then by underverse 0.6 cross officially joins dream's side. but still fandom always likes to explore the what-if.

what if dream fails to bring cross to the good side? what if x-gaster is never revived? what if ink never meets cross?

i think the xtale materials also show that cross is a morally complicated person. he can be really impulsive and cynical and cruel at times, so people just run with it and make him part of the bad sanses. also the multiverse is a continuity soup anyway - most people just take what they like from respective canons and make their own take on it. it would be a headache trying to make everything fit to a t.

personally, i don't consider cross part of the nightmare's gang anymore. he used to be, but now he's not. i don't know how underverse is going to end so i'm just holding my final verdict for now. but if i have to headcanon my cross take, he would not be in the star sanses either. the star sanses are not exactly canon to underverse, and underswap sans did perish there. so uuuh there would be some finetuning to fit the star sanses into cross' canon. either way, i think cross would be uncomfortable working with ink and another swap sans due to what happened. he would still help dream, but not be in the star sanses in any official capacity.

~ crowshipping anon

Yeah, I agree with this. I’m also fond of the idea that Cross eventually leaves the Gang and goes on to do his own thing, with XChara with him preferably, and he of course occasionally hangs out with and or helps characters like the Epic Sanses, Swap, Dream, Core, etc.

And I think he’d set a very good example for a Killer that eventually manages to escape Nightmare, and like in that “dead dove do not eat” situation we talked about with Color and Killer, help keep Killer in line and help with his rehabilitation and socialization from time to time. Able to make sure that no one hurts Killer, and that Killer can’t hurt anyone else. (I just really love the idea of Cross and Killer squabbling a lot lmao)

I don’t mind Bad Sans Cross at all, but a Cross more akin to this version is so rare to come across that I just enjoy it a lot. Even if in that one Bad Sans Poly (mtt + nightmare) fanfic that I beef with one-sidedly.

[dranger78official]

i had a dream!

i had a dream when chrome lost to delta zakuro.

so this is what happened:

chrome was blading in the x tower and delta was here just to find a worthy opponent. chrome and delta launch their beys into the stadium and colbat drake and erase devolos launched out their avatars and devolos bursted colbat drake - leaving it destroyed and ruined. then, delta became the champion of the x tower, telling dante, arman and the other victories about the win.

[hanahaki-arcade]

Oak, apple and storm? @skipper-self-shipper

oak - who’s the more emotional one? how do you balance each other out in this aspect?

(Caroline and Delta) Delta is more outwardly emotional, Caroline tends to bottle things up. Delta of course gives her plenty of space to feel things! So yeah I would say equally as emotional just in different ways

apple - do you and your f/o cook together? what do you make?

(Alyx and Omega) Once the world starts to heal we cook a lot of really flavourful food, Omega handles the meat and butchering while Alyx handles the actual cooking part. We don't really have a set dish, but chopped salad in general is a hit at first

storm - what are cozy days in with your f/o like?

(Celestia and Orchid) We usually just stay in and watch old horror movies. We don't do much honestly, it's mostly just cuddling and napping.

[ugh-yoongi]

hi! would it be alright if i asked what your favorite namjoon fics are? thank you and have a great day 💗🥹

hello nonnie, it is always okay to ask me for fic recs! <3

most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!

i know there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!

also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.

namjoon x reader

anything by @effortandmore

anything by @hamsterclaw

anything by @miscelunaaa

1-year anniversary by @johobi

omerta by @anotherbtswriter

hammer it home series by @gukslut

hey, it's me & leave no trace behind by @yoongiphoria

love bytes by @stutterfly

real magic & park and ride by @here2bbtstrash

house of cards & guilty by @xjoonchildx

lacuna by @eoieopda

dream team by @bangtanintotheroom (feat. hobi)

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter

laundry day by @snackhobi

bloom by @hobidreams

the snow globe effect by @gukyi

you've got a friend in me by @wwilloww

pronoia by @junghelioseok

limbo by @beahae

love hard by @raplinesmoon

swiss miss by @here4kpopfics (feat. seokjin)

my feet to follow, and my heart to hold by @daechwitatamic

a fine line by @moni-logues

roommates with benefits

as always, mxm fics under the cut!

member x member

softer than steel (namseok)

frustrations in late foucault (namseok)

the universe needs more you (namseok)

in your atmosphere (namseok)

why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)

i'm on fire (rap line)

delta (rap line)

꽃꽂이. kkotkkoji (namjin)

you have 1 new message (namjin)

beta tau sigma (namjin)

white rabbit (namjin)

local dumbass idiot helps sexy criminal and then writes sad bird poems instead of just saying Yes Seokjin I Like You Too (namjin)

easy (namjin)

and they were roommates (namjin)

burn me like an ember (namjin)

the understood boundaries of self (namjin)

more walls (collected along the way) [namjin]

imprints & magnitude (namjin)

salt water (namjinkook)

disgruntledofficebrat [active] (namkook)

you can leave the cape on (namkook)

108 degrees (namkook)

the whole of the moon (namkook)

travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)

it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)

how much to give and how much to take (namkook)

the courage of stars (namkook)

come take it (if you want a piece of me) [namkook]

a feel so sweet (namgikook)

objects in mirror are closer than they appear (namgi)

green carnation (namgi)

the added bonus (namgi)

tear you apart (namgi)

different when i'm with you (namgi)

adrift (namgi)

i'll fuck you if you let me, baby (namgi)

sleepless in (namgi)

恋の予感 (namgi)

take it or leave it (namgi)

baby, but we will (namgi)

verified amateurs [online now] (namgi)

cyrano more like cyraNO (namgi)

record it for later (namgi)

into the red morning (taejoon)

don't call it love (taejoon)

i am red with love (taejoon)

the bad thing (minimoni)

you were more than just light (minimoni)

wish we'd fall in love (minimoni)

but i want it anyway (minimoni)

[daisynik7]

Give You Blue Masterlist

When your sky is grey, I will give you blue.

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre: college au

cw: explicit sexual content, language, angst, hurt/comfort, comedy, fluff - specific content warnings will be provided for each chapter

Summary: You and Reiner, childhood friends and high-school sweethearts, break-up in your sophomore year of college. This is the story about how you pick up the pieces of your heartbreak, with the help of your friends and especially your new RA, Eren Jaeger. A story where there are no villains or heroes, just normal people navigating through life and love, one day at a time.  

Author's Notes: Another college au series, yay! I hope you all like this one! All characters are college aged (19-22 years old). Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Give You Blue Taglist | Give You Blue Playlist

Chapter Title and Summary (spoiler-free):

Chapter 1: How It Ends - Reiner breaks up with you the night before the new semester begins. With his car packed with both of your belongings, the hour long ride to campus the next day offers some clarity.

Chapter 2: First Impressions - You move into your new dorm with your best friend and roommate, Annie, where you update her on your current relationship status. That night, you meet Eren Jaeger, your new Resident Assistant.

Chapter 3: Umbrella - With your classes as a distraction, you manage to survive a month into your breakup. However, you hit a wall when you run into your ex for the first time since the start of the semester. And, as if it couldn't get any worse, you forget to bring an umbrella on a day with heavy rainfall. Luckily, someone comes to your rescue.

Chapter 4: Alone Together - You and Annie attend a dinner at the Mu Phi sorority house on campus. Reiner, on his way out of Delta Delta, ambushes you on the walk back to your dorm for a less than pleasant conversation. Later that week, RA Eren hosts a game-night for his fellow residents. But, with it being on a Friday right after midterms, he's disappointed when it flops. Fortunately, someone comes to his rescue.

Chapter 5: Dreams - Your friendship with Eren is taken to the next level. You have a sweet dream that turns into a nightmare. Eren tells his parents that he is considering changing his major.

Chapter 6: Gravity - You attend a party with Annie, only to run into Reiner unexpectedly. Mistakes are made and Eren is once again to the rescue, more than ever before.

Chapter 7: Electric - You and Eren share an intimate moment together, one that the both of you wish could last forever. 

Chapter 8: How It Begins - The conclusion of the series Give You Blue.

Epilogue: A little bonus chapter for our couple.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

relax

Summary: Frankie knows just the thing to make you forget about your shitty workweek and make you excited for your honeymoon. And it's not just the glass of wine he is offering....

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, toxic work environment, Frankie being the best hubby, nakedness, teasing, flirting, banter, alcohol, spitting, smut (oral f receiving)

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You released a long sigh after you parked your car behind Frankie’s in the driveway, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your seat, your eyes closing as you took a deep breath. 

Home at last. 

It had been a very busy week at work. Which could have to do with the fact that you now officially had a whole week off and the head of your department made you feel like taking a whole week off was an attack against him personally so he had you working overtime and made sure to call you out at every chance he got about the audacity of taking days off. 

You should really quit your job. 

You had joked to Frankie about selling pictures of your feet instead, but the longer you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. 

He did tell you you had pretty feet….

Shaking your head you opened your eyes. 

It was very not feminist of you to dream about being a stay at home wife and mom and not having to bother with work. But god did you wish for exactly that.

But all of this would be a problem for after vacation you. In twenty four hours you would be on a plane to Hawaii on the honeymoon you had been looking forward to ever since you married your husband almost nine months ago. 

The wedding had been a small spontaneous affair, so Frankie and you had decided to save up for a big and luxurious honeymoon.

Getting out of the car you immediately got out of your heels, bending down to pick them up before you made your way towards the front door. 

The house was a work in process. Both you and Frankie enjoyed spending your free time working on slowly finishing up your forever home.

You unlocked the door, your shoulders immediately relaxing as you stepped inside. You could hear music coming from further inside the house, and if you had to guess, you’d think that Frankie was in the kitchen. Something you confirmed as you walked deeper into your house as your nose inhaled the scent of garlic and tomatoes and herbs. 

Frankie had cooked dinner the whole week, his work times more flexible, perks of being his own boss. Him and Will had opened a gym in the last year which was gaining more and more members. A joint effort of them being good at their jobs, and their office manager/ social media person posting thirst traps of all the Delta guys working out to the gym’s instagram account. 

You watched your husband for a couple of moments, his broad back towards you. You could see that his hair was still wet, dome drops of water having dropped to his shoulders, darkening the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing. 

He was so damn attractive. You still asked yourself, how a man like him ended up not only choosing your but loving you so deeply, you sometimes did not know how you deserved it. 

„Honey I’m home,“ you smiled as you walked towards him, pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around him as you took a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent. 

„Finally,“ he said and you smiled before he turned in your arms and pulled you against his chest. 

„Hi,“ you smiled sleepily up at him and he smiled back. 

„Hi,“ he kissed you softly. 

„Good timing. Another ten minutes and I would have come and got you,“ he whispered and you smiled, your chin resting against his chest as you looked up at him. 

„Would have loved to see that. Bet my boss would not dare to talk to you like he did to me,“ you sighed and he frowned. 

„He’s still being an asshole?“ He asked and you just shrugged. 

„When isn’t he?“ You asked and Frankie shook his head before he kissed your forehead. 

„But now you’re free for a whole 9 days. And I am gonna make sure my wife is gonna do nothing but relax,“ he promised and you smiled. 

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded. 

„Starting with dinner. Then I’m gonna run you a bath while I finish packing our suitcases and then I’m gonna eat your little pussy until you pass out and fall asleep,“ he winked and you raised your eyebrows in interest. 

„Seems like you got it all planned out, huh?“ You grinned and he nodded, before his lips found yours again. 

„Been thinking about it all day,“ he mumbled, slowly kissing down your jaw, his hands both running down your body until both of them rested on your ass, pushing you against him and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you.  

„How I’m gonna make you sit in the armchair in the bedroom,“ he mumbled in between kisses.

„How I’m gonna make out with your perfect little pussy until the asshole who moved in next door can hear you screaming my name while I make you cum over,“ he bit softly into your neck, „and over,“ he moved his hips, „and over,“ he bit again and you gasped, already dripping into your panties. 

„But first,“ he hummed before he looked at you with a grin, „we gonna have dinner,“ he slapped your ass and took a step back to finish cooking and you groaned loudly, hearing him snicker. 

„Mean,“ you pouted and he turned his head to look at you. 

„You love it,“ he winked and you sighed before a small smile formed on your face and you stepped closer to him, getting on your tiptoes. 

„Payback is a bitch, Morales,“ you hummed against his ear, one of your hands running up his thigh, before you softly squeezed his half hard cock through his sweatpants. 

He turned his head to look at you. 

„Bring it on, Morales,“ he winked. 

You could hear him humming in the bedroom next door, having just gotten out of the bathtub feeling more relaxed then you had in a while. Setting your glass of wine down on the sink you reached for your body lotion, beginning to rub it into your skin. 

You were glad you had scheduled a waxing appointment on the last weekend, leaving your skin super soft as your fingers rubbed over it. 

When you were finished you eyed your robe hanging at the door, before a small smirk sneaked to your face. Grabbing the wine glass you made your way towards the bedroom, deciding to find out how your husband would react if he found you waiting all naked for him. 

Leaning in the door you watched him kneel on the ground in front of both of your suitcases which had been packed to military precision. You did not even bother to try to pack your suitcase anymore, knowing Frankie was doing a way better job anyway.

Letting your head fall against the door as you watched him you smiled. 

„You enjoyed your bath?“ He asked, having noticed but not seen you. 

„Very. I feel refreshed and very relaxed,“ you hummed, taking another sip from your glass of wine. 

„Perfect. And great timing. I finished packing so we can enjoy our evening and get to….“ The rest of his sentence died on his lips as his head turned over his shoulder to look at you, eyes widening when he saw you waiting for him, completely naked. 

„What are we going to do baby?“ You teased with a grin and he groaned, before he turned around, still on his knees. 

„I know what I am going to do,“ he said, his voice hoarse.

Licking your lips, your bit into your bottom lip, before you slowly walked over to one of the armchairs that were sitting in front of the window, sitting down. 

Crossing your legs you gave him a coy smile. 

„And what are you going to do?“ You asked.

„Worship the woman that I love,“ he said before he made his way towards you, on his knees. If you wouldn’t already be naked, his eyes would have undressed you, his fingertips drawing a line up your leg as he reached you, leaving goosebumps all over you. 

He kissed you knee as he knelt at your feet, before he slowly uncrossed your legs and parted them so he could sit down between them. His eyes never left yours as he slowly kissed up your inner thigh, humming against your skin. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, inhaling you deeply when his nose brushed over your clit. 

You were about to set the glass of wine you had down, when he stopped you, shaking his head. 

„Want you to relax and drink it while I….“ He kissed all around your pussy and you exhaled with a sigh, the hand that was not holding your glass coming to brush through his soft hair. 

„God I missed this,“ he groaned, his tongue licking up a straight line from your opening to your clit, making you whimper. 

„It hasn’t even been a week,“ you smiled, your fingers scratching over his scalp, making him shiver. 

„Five days. Too damn long,“ he grunted before he got to work. His tongue lazily playing with your clit, in no rush to make you cum. 

He was playing the long game and you were there for the ride. 

By the time you were getting desperate, your glass was empty. 

Emptying your glass, your eyes on Frankie you moaned softly when his tongue dipped inside of you, the moan he released downright pornographic as he tasted you. 

„Always taste so fucking good for me,“ he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sometimes you had the urge to film him when he was between your legs, pleasuring you, because you had never met a man who enjoyed eating pussy so much. 

You wanted another reminder of how much the man you had married loved you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned when two of his fingers entered you. 

He parted from you only to spit against your pussy, making you gasp, fingers still inside of you, going straight for that spot that made your whole body shake, your hand setting your wine glass down as his lips went back, sucking your clit into his mouth.

And suddenly you were close. 

„Shit baby. Move your fingers… yeah… just like… oh fuck,“ you moaned, your hands now playing with your tits, Frankie’s unoccupied hand coming up to cover your right hand on your tit while he worked your body towards your orgasm. 

„I’m gonna cum….“ you whimpered, your hips moving against his mouth as his tongue flicked over your clit, your body shaking as you came, moaning his name, your hand buried in his hair, keeping him close as he lapped at you until you relaxed, practically melting into the chair. 

Softly he continued to lick you until he pulled his fingers out, making a big show of sucking them clean. 

„I love you,“ you sighed and he grinned, his cheek resting against your thigh.

„You only say that because I just ate your pussy,“ he joked, winking at you and you huffed a laugh. 

„True. But I also love you when you not eat my pussy,“ you said and he laughed. 

„I’m glad,“ he said, kissing your inner thigh. 

„And as much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, I think you should get up,“ you grinned at him and he raised his left eyebrow. 

„I think you should get up and lay down on your back on our very comfy bed and get out of your clothes,“ you said all serious, while drawing a line with your finger down to your chest, his eyes following your movement. 

„And why is that?“ He asked. 

„Cause I wanna ride your cock.“

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — three

part one | part two | part three

summary — the lightning bolts have made it to the semi-finals, and parties are the best way to celebrate. they’re also the best place to run into familiar faces.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — sadly, i don’t own peter parker and his yummy face

warnings — this isn’t your first rodeo: this shit is unedited, mentions of drinking/being drunk, possible ooc, reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (finally gets explained in this part!)

Death was approaching, she could feel it. The sickening, deadly vibrations of the music thundered in her ears like a funeral march. Maybe if she’d grown a spine, she would have avoided this all.

“We’re not even inside yet.”

MJ’s voice broke her from the trance she was stuck in. The Lightning Bolts had made it into the semi-finals, meaning they were one of the last four teams standing. Delta Alpha Kappa, home of half the hockey team, decided to throw their (nearly) weekly rager in honor of that. So, of course, Harry invited MJ, and MJ forced her very unwilling roommate to come.

“Being near the door is scary enough.” Her voice squeaked. 

“I didn’t realize you hated parties this much,” MJ giggled, stuffing her hands into her jacket.

“There’s a difference between parties and frat parties,” she responded with a shudder, “You can probably get thirty-five different diseases from just walking inside.”

“I’ll nurse you back to health.” 

Before a retort could be made, they were already hopping up the steps to the front door. There were some people outside the house, littering the grass and porch. At the door was a guy with a grey snapback. He smiled at them as he opened the door, throwing out a ‘hey, ladies’ as he let them in. He was harmless and hadn’t done anything wrong, but she already felt herself getting faintly annoyed at his grin.

The inside of the house was to be expected. Dull neon lights streaking the walls from the Five Below LED machines, unintelligently music rippling through the air and vibrating the floors, the hazy smell of weed that hung heavier the further you moved into the house. There was an open room people were dancing in on the left, a kitchen on the right, and stairs ahead of them. 

“We don’t have to stay here all night, right?” She pleaded with MJ, her voice somewhat lost in the loud music.

“Of course not,” MJ shook her head, “An hour—two tops.”

“And you’re not leaving me,” she said, punctuating her words by grabbing ahold of MJ’s arm. A chuckle bubbled in the redhead’s throat as she returned the grip, though, with less fervor.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she shook her head.

Apparently, she would dream of it, because within a half an hour, MJ was swept away by Harry. It wasn’t MJ’s intention to leave, nor was it Harry’s to strand Kitty—he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and was gone within seconds. MJ had sent her an apology text minutes later, saying they were playing beer pong out on the patio. Part of her wanted to join them so that she wasn’t so alone in an unfamiliar place, but then a couch had just opened up in a deserted corner of the living room. She replied with ‘all good :).’ Things were very much not all good.

The settings of her phone had become extremely interesting. She’d increased and decreased the size of the text on her screen multiple times. Changed her wallpaper. Played with the magnifier. Ran out of lives on Project Makeover. Changed her wallpaper again. The obnoxious music faded to the background of her mind as she tucked herself away. She should’ve just gone to the patio with MJ. A sigh escaped her as she caved, opening her texts.

“Are you stalking me?”

Her eyes shot up from her phone immediately. Of course he was here. Hazel eyes, choppy brown hair, a nearly healed lip that was rosier than normal. His words echoed her own from the last time they’d spoken. She hadn’t had any need to speak to him, really: they’d given an overzealous freshman a shot at handling the sports section, so she’d been taken off the duty for at least another week. 

“You came up to me,” she replied, “And you could still be stalking me for all I know.” Peter grinned, the same grin he’d given her when they met, and when he was being dragged to the penalty box, and when he’d swiped his card for her at the dining hall.

“Not stalking.” He raised his hands in defense, showing off the red solo cup in his grip. He was still smiling that stupid, toothy smile. 

“Then what are you doing here?” She raised her brow.

“Well, uh,” he chuckled, “Not to sound like a dick, but this party is sort of for me—for the team, really. We made semis.”

Hot embarrassment flooded her at the realization. She knew that already. Would it be worse to say that and admit she had actually been watching the game on her laptop late last week, or just pretend that she was a lot more dense than she already was?

“Oh,” she hummed, not quite doing either, “I see.”

“So, can I ask what you’re doing here?” Peter asked. He moved slightly, like he wanted to take a seat next to her on the couch but decided against it.

“Isn’t it obvious? I live here,” she replied, the sarcasm thick on her tongue. He seemed to like it because he let out another one of those throaty chuckles.

“Ah, yeah, should’ve figured,” he nodded. With his free hand, he scratched the scruff of hair above his left ear. Then, he spoke up again, “Mind if I sit?”

“A little,” she cringed internally at her own words. Though contradictory, she scooched a bit, asserting that maybe it would be okay if he sat. He took the invitation.

“Where’s MJ?” He cocked his head.

“Kidnapped by your lovely teammate.” “She just left you alone?”

“It’s not her fault—she apologized and told me where he was holding her captive, but…well, the couch opened up,” she shrugged. Another deep laugh.

“That’s pretty sound logic,” he nodded. The last time they’d been this close, she was interviewing him. Well, she was trying to interview him while he flirted incessantly. Peter held his cup between his knees, taking slow sips every once and a while. 

“Do you live here?” She turned to fully face him, “Are you one of those frat guys?”

“I thought about it, but I just didn’t have enough time,” he shook his head, “I’m actually in an on-campus apartment. I have my own bathroom, so, hey, I’m winning, I guess.” For perhaps the first time, a light laugh was drawn from her lips. It wasn’t necessarily real, more like a confirmation that she heard him, but it was enough to make Peter’s lips twitch into another grin.

“What about you, Kitty?”

And there it was. He had to ruin it. 

“What’s your obsession with trying to call me that?” She grumbled.

“You said your friends call you that,” he replied, acting so nonchalant that it took all her strength not to roll her eyes.

“We’re not friends,” she corrected him quickly. His face fell for only a minute before he was already picking his lips up into another grin.

“Can’t we be?” He asked. His words were so sincere, like he was actually searching for friendship behind her eyes. Maybe he was being sincere. She shifted in her spot.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know I probably came off sort of strong before, inviting you to the game and everything, but you came, so I sort of thought…” he shrugged again, “We’re…friends? Of some sort?”

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. She’d shown up. But it was because of MJ, because MJ wanted to go. Yeah, that was why.

“MJ wanted to see Harry,” she disputed.

“But you still came,” he pressed. She still came. A sigh left her.

“Okay, we’re, like, sort of friends,” she finally admitted, “But that doesn’t mean you just get to call me that name.”

“Well then what am I supposed to call you?” He questioned, and her eyebrows furrowed in response. A smile split on his lips, “You never actually introduced yourself to me, y’know.”

Another burst of molten embarrassment. She searched her mind, trying to remember if she’d ever told him her name, but she was drawing blanks. She’d been so pissed off during the interview that she never introduced herself. Her scalp burned.

“Y/n,” she swallowed her pride for a moment, “That’s what you can call me.”

“I sort of like Kitty better.” Now he was just pushing the limits.

“Well, it’s not for you to use,” her voice was sharp.

“Harry uses it.” “Harry is a dick that doesn’t listen to me when I tell him to stop calling me it.”

“MJ uses—”

“MJ uses it because she’s allowed to use it,” she interrupted, “Hearing other people use it is like hearing a stranger refer to you by your family nickname. It’s freaky.”

“Is there a reason for it? The nickname, I mean?” Peter, for as genuine as he was trying to be, couldn’t hide his grin. 

“A stupid one.” Why would she admit that?

“Can I hear it?” He pressed.

“You are just full of questions,” she huffed. Silence settled between them. Beats of unspoken words fell like snowflakes as the dull thump of the party shifted to the forefront. 

“It’s a stupid reason,” she repeated, breaking the seal. Peter looked at her again.

“Is it?” His voice was a little softer than before. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. Why was she giving in so easily?

“It’s because I always land on my feet somehow,” she began to explain, “Not literally. Like, back in high school, I’d have a test I forgot to study for, and I’d ace it somehow. Or when I used to do the professor spotlight for the paper, I would put it off until the last minute and bullshit a whole piece just to be told it’s one of the best things I’ve done. Stuff like that. MJ said I’m like a cat, but cuter, so she started calling me that freshman year.”

Like clockwork, Peter let out a huff of laughter. He looked at her, eyes sparkling with the new information and he curled his lips. She must’ve been getting some second-hand smoke, because her head seemed a little fuzzier than before.

“I thought it was going to be something traumatic,” he chuckled, “Like, you got stuck in a tree or something.”

“It’s just personal,” she rolled her eyes.

“So,” his laughter subsided, “I don’t have Kitty privileges?” “No,” she shook her head.

“Do you mean ‘no’ or ‘not yet’?” His smile was unbearable.

“I mean ‘no’.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you sure sure?” 

She was going to have to physically restrain herself. Instead of arguing, she shuffled in her seat, “I think I’m gonna go see if MJ is still—”

“Hey,” he said softly. His hand landed on her arm in a featherlight touch that had her nerve ending lighting up. Her eyes met his. The softness that consumed the hazel caused her to still. 

“Before you go,” his tone was more subdued now, “Can I possibly have your number?”

The question caught her off guard. If she hadn’t already stopped moving, she would’ve come to a screeching halt. Perhaps what confused her the most was that her instinctual response was to say yes, to reach for her phone and let him make a new contact. 

“I promise I won’t set your name as ‘Kitty’,” he added, “Scout’s honor.” “Were you a boy scout?” She cocked her head.

“Nope,” he replied with that same giddy grin that melted her resolve. Another sigh escaped her as she grabbed her phone. He waited patiently as she created a new contact and handed over the phone. His fingers darted across the screen before taking a picture of himself. Well, more like a picture of his eyes and nose way too close to the camera. He gave the phone back, seemingly proud of himself. The picture was set, and the name he’d chosen for himself was ‘peter :)’. He also sent himself a text so he would have her number.

“I’ll let you go now,” he grinned, “Have fun watching drunks play pong.” She nodded and nearly stood, but was planted back to her seat in a moment.

“How did you know where I was going?” Her eyebrows creased. Peter’s smile fell slightly as his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he coughed, “Well, I bumped into MJ earlier, so, y’know.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, “And I bet you didn’t ask her where I was, either.” He chuckled nervously and scratched the spot above his ear again.

“Nope,” he lied. She shook her head at his tone.

“Right,” she stood, “See you around, stalker.”

“Bye, Ki—Y/n,” he cut himself off, grinning proudly when he noticed his mistake. His smile had to be contagious, infectious, because her own lips began to curl in response.

It was surprisingly easy to find MJ. She didn’t know where the patio was, but luck was on her side tonight: after shoving through a dozen drunks, she found sliding glass doors. The fresh air felt like a cold shower as she stepped out. It was much less loud out here. Only the filtered thump of the music and the buzz of voices could be heard. That was until a light splash and a cacophony of deep yells filled her ears. When she cautiously approached the hoard of people surrounding the beer pong table, a pair of hands wrapped around her in death grip.

“I am so, so sorry!” MJ’s voice eased her nerves immediately, “I’m horrible! I’m the worst! I promised to stick by you, and I bailed! I—”

“Honey, it’s okay,” she let out a small laugh at her behavior. She should be angrier than she was, but she just couldn’t pull herself to get mad.

“I promise I will never ever force you to a party again, and I’ll never leave you,” MJ continued, “I’ll wait outside the shower for you!”

“That’s tempting, but you don’t have to.” Her voice seemed to somewhat quell MJ’s nerves, though the redhead was still on high alert. 

“Are you just acting okay but really you’re harboring a deep resentment for me that will slowly boil into hatred?” MJ scrunched her nose. She was definitely a few drinks in.

“I promise,” she said, and she actually meant it, “I do not hate you.” MJ sighed in relief as she finally let go of the girl in front of her. True to her word, she stuck by her the rest of the night. When they finally made their way back to the dorm—both tipsy—she finally checked her phone. There was a message from Peter; a screenshot of her contact info with the name set as ‘y/n :)’ and a text:

‘scout’s honor’

a/n — OKAY OKAY i know nothing humongous happened in this chap, but we’re getting there 🤭 you guys just wait until peter *redacted* and *redacted* so reader has to *redacted.* also, at the time of posting this, i hit 400!! love you guys so much, you're all my sweet little baby muffins

taglist

@reidslovely @iamliterallyspidergwen @tarzinnia (tarzinnia, hon, i cannot for the life of me remember if you asked to be on the taglist so i added you just in case—let me know if you want off!)

[sh4wty18]

Hello I LOVE YOUR WORK AND EVERYTHING<33333

I was wondering if you could do like hockey player! Chris sturniolo x figure skater!reader i don't care what about just PLZZ

girl of your dreams - chapter one.

one. | two. | three.

pairing: hockeyplayer!chris x figureskater!reader

summary: you find out you're going to have to share your rink with chris's hockey team during your final college figure skating season.

cw: rivals to lovers, angst, first person POV, language

word count: 1.4k + edited

tags: @kokes73 @joeshiestyslover @chrissbluehat @h3arts4harry (if you want to be tagged, comment!)

dividers from @plutism

---

Y/n’s POV

“So, as you all know, you’ve been called here for an emergency team meeting. You’re probably not expecting to see the other team here too,” Coach Beck chuckles, but her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. 

The entire University Figure Skating team is gathered in our rink for a supposed “emergency meeting”. I knew something was up as soon as I sat down on the bleachers and saw the University Ice Hockey team already waiting for us. Coach Beck is our figure skating coach, and she’s great. Beck is kind, smart, funny, and strict, but she makes practices fun. She’s so encouraging during our competitions against other universities, that even if we don’t win, she’s still proud of us. Not to make it seem like I don’t win. Of course, I win every competition I’m in. Figure skating is my passion, it always has been. I wanted to go pro after I graduate, but I doubt that will happen. That’s why I work my ass off to get straight As and put hundreds of hospital volunteer hours in each semester– I’m pre-med. If I can’t become a famous skater, I might as well get a job in a field I’m good at. 

Next to Coach Beck stands Coach Carter. He is the University Ice Hockey team’s coach. From what I’ve seen, he’s way more serious and scary than Beck. In the few times the men have had to use our rink for practice, he’s always screaming. He crosses his arms and glares down his nose at each and every one of us.

“Well, Coach Carter and I wanted to let both teams know that the Men’s Ice Hockey rink is being rented out to the local community this semester for K-12 hockey lessons and practices. That being said…”

“You’re going to be sharing the rink this season,” Coach Carter finishes.

A few of my teammates gasp, and I hear some of the men on the ice hockey side of the bleachers groan. I raise my hand patiently, waiting for Beck to see me.

“Yes, Y/n,” she points at me.

“Yes, hi. Um, so how will we be doing this? Because I know I’m not the only person thinking it, but the men need the entire rink to practice scoring and stuff, right? So where will we be?”

“Always worrying about yourself, huh, Y/n/LN?” I snap my head around and shoot Chris a deadly glare, which only makes him laugh under his breath. 

Chris Sturniolo. He’s been my biggest rival since we were freshmen, and both brand new to college level athletics. Now he’s the king of the hockey team and the president of the Alpha Delta Phi chapter at our university. Everyone on campus knows him, either for being the guy who led the hockey team to victory in the U.S. Collegiate Championship three years in a row, or the guy who throws the best parties out of all the frats and sororities at our school combined. Everyone loves him, but not me. I know him as the guy who’s had it out for me since day one. He’s pre-med too. I don’t know how, to be quite honest. He’s a chronic lecture-skipper, and has shown up to Saturday practices hungover so many times it’s hard to keep track. Not that I’m keeping tabs on him, he makes it known. He’s always bragging about how great his parties are and how wasted he got. He’s been trying to get me to come to one of his parties since sophomore year, when I let it slip that I’d never been drunk. We’ve had so many classes together since freshman year, and we’re always on opposite ends of class debates. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose, just to piss me off. Despite all his bad behavior outside the classroom, he still manages to maintain a decent GPA, he has to. It’s a requirement to be involved in athletics. All athletes must maintain a GPA of 3.5 or higher to participate in their sport. That’s another reason he makes me angry, he barely tries, and still manages to get good grades, and the professors like him. He’s so charming and smooth-talking he can win over even the strictest of professors. It’s infuriating. 

But the most infuriating thing about him is how attractive he is. He has shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. His limbs are long and slender, yet toned. But not too buff. And he’s tall, well, taller than me. He has good style and he’s confident, which makes him even hotter. It’s so hard to hate him when he constantly looks like that. I mean, I guess I don’t hate him. He’s just my rival, and I don’t like that– having a rival, I mean. I like to be the best all the time. In academics, in my sport, even in my hobbies (thankfully, I don’t think Chris has an interest in crocheting, so we won’t be rivals in that field any time soon). Chris likes to be the best too, and that’s why we don’t get along.

Now, our senior season is just about to start. Chris and I are both captains of our respective sports teams, we’re both captains in the Model UN (often leading to some very heated debates that leave the other club members silent), and we’re in the same senior seminar for our Biology major. On top of all that, we’re now expected to share a rink? I call bullshit.

Coach Carter speaks up before Coach Beck can respond to my question, “We’re just going to divide the rink in half and practice in a smaller space. We’re trying to be as fair as possible here. We’re also going to get the full rink on Saturday mornings, and the figure skating team will no longer have Saturday practice.” 

“What?!” I shout, “How is that fair?! Coach Beck, we need Saturday!” This earns another smartass laugh from Chris and I scowl at him again.

“Clearly she agreed to it, Y/n. I’m sure you can book extra individual hours after we’re done practicing. We all know you love to work overtime,” Chris says with an eye roll, and a few of his teammates snicker. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, and Chris just shrugs in my direction with a grin. God, he is insufferable.

“Okayyy,” Coach Beck says in an attempt to diffuse the obvious tension between me and Chris, “Y/n, unfortunately, this is just the way it has to be.”

“But it’s not fair. This is a lot of our senior seasons. I’m sure all of us seniors want this season to be our best.” 

“We can miss out on Saturday practice this year, and share the rink, and still have the best season of your four years,” Coach Beck says. She’s trying to be encouraging, but I can tell she’s a little pissed off too.

“Life isn’t fair sweetheart,” Coach Carter adds. I blush in embarrassment and lower my gaze. 

–

Later that night, after our first shared practice, I’m collecting my things to make the trek back to my apartment when I see Chris approaching next to me. 

He taps me on the shoulder and I turn to face him. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi?”

“I just came to see how you were feeling. You know, now that we’re gonna see each other multiple times a day, almost every day. Class, Model UN, and now sharing the rink with me? You must be thrilled!” He quips, and I just want to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“Yup. I’m ecstatic!” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just more time to show everyone how easily I can wipe the floor with you.” 

“Wipe the floor with me?” he asks, “How will you be able to do that here? We’re on different teams. Maybe seeing me in action will finally show you that I’m just as talented as you are.”

I stay quiet, not really knowing how to respond. He’s right, but there’s no way in hell I’m about to admit it to him. It doesn’t matter that I don’t say anything though, because he sees right through me. He always has.

“Aw, Y/n,” he smiles, “Life isn’t fair, remember?” He slowly backs up, giving me a two-finger salute before walking away. When I turn back around, I’m alone in the rink.

---

chapter one in the books. i lowkey love it ngl. i can't wait to write more. let me know what you think!

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello!

I've always wanted to do a stealth game/campaign, but all my attempts to hack it into DnD have failed. Do you have any suggestions for a stealthy system? Not something as abstract as Knives in the Dark (tbh, I just have never been able to get into it) but something that hits the Assassin's Creed feeling of watching the target, making a plan, and then sneaking through the base taking out guards and hiding their bodies and such. Preferably on a grid map or similar, s we're terrible at theatre of the mind.

Thanks!

THEME: Stealthy Games.

Hello there, so I did some digging and I found plenty of stealth games, although none of them seem to really require a map in order to play. That being said, I don’t think that should stop you from providing maps to your players, even if they’re abstract! Some of these games might ask you to sketch out a rough map of the town or building that you’re in, which may help you provide your players with some visual references as they sneak around, trying not to get caught. When it comes to stealth, I think of three things: horror, heists, and spies.

Delta Green, by Arc Dream Publishing.

Born of the U.S. government’s 1928 raid on the degenerate coastal town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts, the covert agency known as Delta Green opposes the forces of darkness with honor but without glory. Delta Green agents fight to save humanity from unnatural horrors—often at a shattering personal cost.

Delta Green comes highly recommended as a great way to play an X-Files type rpg, mixed in with the Cthulhu mythos. It uses a d100 system and is based in the modern day, casting your characters as former members of government agencies, recruited into a super-secret bureau that investigates supernatural things - and keeps those things hidden from the common public. The stealth of this game is mostly about covering up the eldritch and unnatural, even if it means framing someone else or condemning a beloved building.

Your characters in this game have some familiar pieces to them, such as six stats with the same titles as you’ll see in games like D&D. However, you’ll also have pieces like Bonds, which represent relationships that keep your character grounded, and a Sanity system that I’m personally not crazy about (I do not recommend this game for a group that doesn’t like trite mechanization of mental health disorders), but that gives you a way to incur penalties that aren’t just physical damage.

This looks to be the closest to a traditional rpg on this list, and with all the elements to keep track of, I can see how a physical map would be helpful. However, keep in mind that there isn’t a pace or speed stat attached to these characters, so things like line of sight or distance probably won’t be super granular - if you are shooting things you may have broad range bands to determine how difficult something is, but the final decision will be a GM decision, not something necessarily determined in the rulebook. Because the setting is a modern one, I think finding visual references for locations in this game would be very very easy.

If you want a taste of the game before you put your money down, you can check out the Free Starter Rulebook!

Minutes to Midnight, by Oliver S.

Minutes to Midnight is a game powered by Blades in the Dark about a crew of spies, trying to disrupt the balance of power in a modern cold war. They will have to stand strong in the face of their vicious opposition and handle a fragile web of untrustworthy informants, devious intrigues and deadly lies.

We play to find out if our agents can thrive in the cutthroat world of espionage. While the public may never know about their impact, their actions shape the political landscape and outcome of conflict. Will the players prevent the outbreak of a global disaster and use their influence to create a better future? Will they attempt to send the opposing bloc into a turmoil and establish a lasting hegemony? Or will their actions lead the world down a path of war and nuclear destruction?

The Forged in the Dark system uses a cycle in between missions and downtime, sinking your characters into the heart of the action as they pursue clandestine missions in locations built by the group in a session 0. Since the game takes place in the real world, using maps of real cities might be a great way to keep they players visually engaged, and using a city that the group has been to or is familiar with might also make it easier for the group to visualize the kinds of buildings and streets where their spies may be sneaking, scheming, and sleuthing.

Madstones, by xiombarg.

Those who know magic exists at all are the rich and teams of breakers like yourself that go into the jartowns for the Archons. Jartowns are created by burning folk alive in a wicker man, in a ritual known only to the oldest jet-setting Archons.

A jartown is an isolated area of spacetime that was cut out of our reality. Most jartowns consist of a small amount of space (enough for a suburb or town) and a loop of several years. Jartowns become more magickal and horrific with each loop, creating madstones. 

Madstones are small things, from actual stones to human organs, infused with concentrated, distilled magic. They're secretly coveted by the wealthy.

In this tiny 24XX-based tabletop RPG, players are breakers, desperate folk from the occult underground who find a way into the jartowns, hothouses for magick, to perform errands for the ultrarich Archons.

Play as a variety of roles, from sawbones to sinner to spook, and choose to hail from one of four origins, including jartown native.

24XX games are another toolbox that you can pick up and play around with to help you get started with creating your own experiences. Your character consists of a few skills and gear packaged together in a character class. In Madstones, these classes are various specialists, trained to deal with different elements that might pop up when you go delving into eldritch pockets of reality. There is both a stealth and a combat specialist in this game, but there’s also classes for things like a getaway driver, a hacker, and an occult specialist.

24XX games also exist because of their OSR predecessors, meaning that combat is risky, and often deadly - and therefore finding other ways to solve the problem is implicitly encouraged. However, the openness of the system means that your players don’t necessarily need to resort to stealth - they might prepare an elaborate ritual, create a unique piece of technology, or just decide to run away as fast as they can. In regards to maps, I think you could probably use a typical dungeon framework: leading the characters through various rooms or sections of the pocket dimension, and throwing horrors and weird environments their way.

Night’s Black Agents, by Pelgrane Press.

The Cold War is over. Bush’s War is winding down. You were a shadowy soldier in those fights, trained to move through the secret world: deniable and deadly.

Then you got out, or you got shut out, or you got burned out. You didn’t come in from the cold. Instead, you found your own entrances into Europe’s clandestine networks of power and crime. You did a few ops, and you asked even fewer questions. Who gave you that job in Prague? Who paid for your silence in that Swiss account? You told yourself it didn’t matter. It turned out to matter a lot. Because it turned out you were working for vampires.

Vampires exist. What can they do? Who do they own? Where is safe? You don’t know those answers yet. So you’d better start asking questions. You have to trace the bloodsuckers’ operations, penetrate their networks, follow their trail, and target their weak points. Because if you don’t hunt them, they will hunt you. And they will kill you.

A combination of modern spy fiction and vampire intrigue, Night’s Black Agents uses the GUMSHOE system, which is an investigative roleplaying system that provides your characters with resources they can spend to get into secret locations, compete against vampiric agents, and pick up information to help you put together the details of a conspiracy. In Night’s Black Agents, finding clues isn’t left up to chance - you will always get information as long as you tell the GM that you’re using a relevant skill. The obstacles in this game are more likely going to involve getting in and out of sticky situations - and if your opponents are vampires, well, stealth is likely going to be a more appealing than trying to slit their throats.

GUMSHOE games don’t need grid maps either, but a rough map of the city or country is probably very helpful, and it might be fun to draw the floor plans of various buildings that your players investigate in order to help them determine what areas may be the most interesting places to search for clues.

The Breathing, by Fistful of Crits.

You reside in The Archive, an unending and depthless structure spiralling deep into the dark and misty depths, devoid of life and presided over by a being known only to you as The Archivist.

The Archive is made up of windowless rooms and halls that vary greatly in their height, size and danger. All these spaces house numerous shelves containing the collected knowledge of the world outside of The Archive; a place you have been told you must earn your access to. The price of your freedom comes from the discovery of new or forgotten knowledge that can be found in the deepest parts of the structure. 

You, and a few others, are known as The Breathing, in a place full of creatures who were once like you but ultimately failed in their bid for freedom; now known as The Breathless. 

The Breathing is just an example of a broader style of game, using a system called Breathless. Breathless games use a series of polyhedral dice that deteriorate as you use them, with different dice attached to different skills. Throughout the game you pause to “take a breath”, and re-set your skills, bringing your dice back to their threshold. However, pausing to take a breath also gives the GM a chance to introduce a new trouble or complication, creating a cycle of mission, rest, mission, rest, etc.

As a game system, Breathless is pretty light and is fairly easy to hack. But the lightness of the rules also allows for creativity and add-ons, which could include rules for movement or placement. Since the game rewards finding ways to solve problems without having to resort to direct conflict, I can see games like this encouraging characters to think carefully about when to use their resources and when to just… sneak around the problem. If you want to include maps and a grid, you could provide a blueprint of a room inside The Archive and watch the players try to navigate it using their limited resources, with designated “rest areas” that they would have to get to in order to take a Breath.

This certainly isn’t a solution in a box, but it might provide some interesting tools to help you build the experience you’re looking for.

Night Reign, by Sinister Beard Games.

Night Reign is a roleplaying game of stealth, guile, violence and devilry for a GM and one or more players, set in a quasi-Edwardian metropolis perched on an inhospitable peninsula beset by toxic black rain and ruled by a corrupt cabal of Noble Houses.

You take the role of members of The Red Right Hand, a conspiracy loyal to the recently deposed royal family, using your talents in assassination, infiltration and dark sorcery to strike out at your oppressors.

A game all about the things you do in the shadows, Night Reign uses cards to resolve conflict, rather than dice. It also uses a token system to help you overcome obstacles without having to resort to violence - loud, messy, dangerous violence. The Ruled by Night system (which has an SRD that you can download for free) is about balancing the suspicion you’ve already raised against an increasing cost to being stealthy. You spend Shadow tokens in order to be able to attempt to do something, and try to get a hand as close as possible to 21, or at least higher than whatever the GM draws. Your characters will also have powers that can be very effective, but are likely to draw a lot of attention, so using them is risky.

Because of how this game runs, things like movement and speed are not likely to be tracked. However, I don’t think mapping out a location so that the players can understand where things are or what kind of space they’re in is going to hurt the experience. The SRD describes something called City Conditions, which appear to be elements of the fiction that might result from the characters’ choices, or provide obstacles to the players. If you have a map of the city in front of you, you could draw symbols on the map to indicate what’s happening as the story progresses, and even cross out places that have been destroyed.

Heist, by Hark Forsooth Games.

HEIST: Get the Crew Together is a cooperative RPG where you and a group of suave, savvy and slick fellow crooks plan and execute capers, grabbing the fanciest loot from the world's wealthy elite.

Heist is great for fans of shows like Leverage or movies like Ocean’s 11: you’re going to steal something shiny from someone who certainly doesn’t deserve it, and you’re going to do it with style. While combat is an option, your characters will also have to deal with suspicious marks, security systems, laser grids and bank vaults. The characters are composed of special talents and personal flaws, and the GM has the task of designing something the game calls Murphy’s Gun - a major twist that will reveal itself midway through the heist.

It can be tricky to determine what to prep for a game like this, but one thing that you can for sure prep is the location. Design the building, draw the floor plan, and come up with obstacles for the different areas - there’s not really movement tracking in this game but having the layout will certainly help your players come up with ideas about how to get in, get out, and get rich.

Another thing to consider…

Mothership doesn’t have any stealth skills, but what it does have is the incentive to be sneaky. If an alien horror is moving through the ship, you’re more likely to try and stay out of it’s way - and having no stealth skills means that the players have to describe what they’re doing to stay hidden; climb into vents, squeeze yourself into cupboards, and try to wriggle into the space suit. However, this doesn’t mean that you’re not rolling - you might roll to clamber over something or to fit yourself into something, or you might roll to scope out a location to find an exit or suitable hiding place. It’s also excellent in terms of maps - plenty of adventures will provide at least a blueprint of the space station or ship that you’re exploring, which you can use to spook your players with fresh horrors.

[qin-qin16]

Are they protective of you?

cw: Are they like a guard dog that won't leave your side? Or are they more carefree about the dangers around you?

Of course they are like a big guard dog! You have no idea how dangerous the world is out there; obviously, they have to protect you from everything and everyone! When it’s not their arm around your shoulders, pulling your body closer to theirs, then it’s definitely their jacket or hoodie over you, making it clear to anyone that you’re together. And how can you say they don’t need to fight the jerk who touched you? Of course they do! If it’s to protect you, they would do anything (within or outside the law).

Fell, DELTA, CROSS, Killer, Dust, FellSwap Gold

They’re a bit of both. Of course, they’ll defend you if someone tries to pick a fight with you, but they also give you space to handle your own problems. You’re both pretty comfortable with that, and usually, you prefer to stay in your corner peacefully—much better than having someone barking at everyone who tries to get close to you.

COLOR, Fresh, Ink, SWAP, Dream, Geno, Classic

They prefer that you defend them. Every time they get into a fight, they look at you like a wet cat, completely helpless and pleading for your help. You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all standing in front of them, protecting them from whatever is intimidating them (whether it’s an ignorant guy or a giant bug). It’s them who wear your jacket as a form of protection, while your arm is around their hips. Could they be pretending just to see you all brave defending them? You’ll never know~

LUST, Science, Farm, SwapFell

You'll never know how many people they've gotten rid of just because they look at you weird.

NIGHTMARE, Error

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Anywho. Both my inboxes (this one and the @stagesofkiller one for u freaky ones) are now empty, but open if anyone wants to send anything on your mind or you’ve been wanting to talk about for any ship, character, headcanons, idea, etc.

[badathumanemotions]

Heat of the Moment

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Category: Smut CW: A/B/O, Delta Spencer, Omega Reader, Masturbation, Wet Dream, Heat, Rut, Breeding, Knotting, Oral Sex, Somnophilia, Going Into Heat While On A Case, Scenting, Biting, Marathon Sex, Fingering. WC: 18,486 Y/N, an omega, goes into heat while on a case. Spencer does his best to try to control himself. (Not Proof Read) Master List This was supposed to be a quick smut piece but as you can see it kind of got away from me.

The soft click of the door closing echoed through the quiet hotel corridor as Y/N L/N, the youngest member of the BAU team, let out a sigh of relief. She had spent the entire day poring over case files, her mind racing with the grim details of the unsolved murders in rural Wisconsin. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered on her clothes from the morgue. As she approached her room, the weight of the day's events grew heavier, the anticipation of a hot shower and a good night's sleep almost palpable.

Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed, her thoughts immediately drifting to the Unsub they were hunting. He was clever, leaving behind clues that seemed to taunt them with every step they took. The latest victim had been found in a field of tall, golden grasses, her lifeless body a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop. The way he had displayed her, so open and vulnerable, sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. Her mind reeled with the possible motives behind his gruesome rituals.

Y/N rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of the chaos. Why unmated females? What was his endgame? The questions swirled like a tornado in her mind, refusing to be pinned down. She pulled out her notebook, flipping through the pages of neatly scribbled notes and theories. Each one looked less convincing than the last, and she felt the pressure of the case closing in on her like a vice. The urge to solve this was more than just professional; it was personal. As an omega, she knew the fear that these women must have felt, the vulnerability of being hunted by someone who saw them as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.

With a frustrated groan, she tossed the notebook aside and peeled off her clothes. The fabric clung to her sticky skin, and she felt a little warm, a hint of irritation building in her chest. Her headache grew, the pounding in her temples becoming more insistent. She decided to take a quick shower to wash away the grime of the day, hoping the cool water would bring some relief. The spray washed over her, and she leaned into it, letting it soothe her tense muscles. The water trickled down her body, and she noticed that her skin was more sensitive than usual, her senses heightened. She dismissed it as stress from the case, not realizing that her body was already preparing for the inevitable.

After drying off, she slipped into a soft, oversized t-shirt and shorts, her usual sleepwear for comfort. She crawled into bed, the sheets cool against her overheated skin. As she lay there, her thoughts strayed from the case to her team, particularly Spencer Reid. He had been acting differently around her lately, more protective and attentive.

Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the way his eyes had lingered on her earlier in the day, the heat in his gaze unmistakable. But she had been too focused on the case to give it much thought. Now, as she lay in the dark, the memory of his touch sent a warm shiver through her. They had always had a special bond, one that went beyond friendship or colleagues. But she had never allowed herself to explore the possibility of anything more. She had always been too scared to risk their friendship, to admit that she wanted him to claim her, to be the one to fill the void that only a mate could.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and soon she drifted into a deep sleep, her dreams filled with the warm embrace of the man she had secretly longed for. Spencer's gentle whispers and tender touches filled her mind, his scent wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. In the haze of her dreams, she felt his body pressed against hers, the softness of his lips brushing against her neck, sending waves of pleasure through her.

The dream grew more intense, and she could feel his teeth graze her skin, the pressure building until she gasped with desire. His strong arms held her close, and she melted into his touch, arching her back to give him better access to the sensitive spots that craved his attention. His scent was intoxicating, a heady mix of masculine musk and the sweet promise of home. Her body responded instinctively, heat pooling between her thighs, begging for his touch.

In her dream, Spencer's voice was soothing, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he trailed kisses down her neck. His hands roamed over her curves, exploring every inch of her body with a gentle possessiveness that made her toes curl. She reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The feel of his skin against hers was electric, and she could almost taste the desperation in the air.

The intensity grew, and her body responded, betraying her with a need that was impossible to ignore. Her core ached for his touch, for the pressure of his knot that would fill her completely. She whimpered, her legs parting instinctively, inviting him in. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her chest, and she felt his hardness against her thigh.

In her mind, Spencer hovered over her, his eyes blazing with a desire that mirrored her own. His long fingers traced the line of her collarbone, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. He claimed her mouth with a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deep, tasting her sweetness. His scent grew stronger, overwhelming her, and she could feel the warmth of his arousal, his need for her pounding in time with her own heartbeat.

Her dream-self arched into him, the ache in her core becoming unbearable. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, and moved his attention to her neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. She could feel his teeth graze her, and she moaned, begging for the bite that would claim her as his own.

With a growl, Spencer pushed the fabric of her shirt aside, revealing her full, round breasts. He took one in his hand, his thumb flicking over the taut nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. His mouth followed the path his hand had made, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth. She gasped, her back bowing off the bed, her nails digging into the mattress. The feeling was exquisite, and she wanted more.

He kissed his way down her stomach, pausing to kiss her navel before continuing his descent. His breath was hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring with need. She could feel his tongue against her folds, teasing and licking, tasting her sweetness. Her body responded eagerly, her hips rising to meet his mouth.

Spencer's tongue was a masterful tool, exploring and caressing every part of her with a gentle insistence that made her whimper. He lapped at her clit, the sensitive bud swollen with desire, and she felt the first tremors of an impending climax. He was relentless, his strokes growing more intense, each touch sending her closer to the edge. The room spun around her, the walls closing in as the pleasure built within her, a crescendo that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces.

But the moment never came. Instead, she was jolted awake by the harsh beeping of her alarm, the cold reality of the hotel room replacing the warm embrace of her dream. Y/N's breathing was ragged, her body flushed and slick with arousal. She reached down, her hand finding her clit, still throbbing with the echoes of Spencer's phantom touch. Her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. It was just a dream, she reminded herself, but the need remained, a dull ache that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart.

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she sat up, her body protesting the sudden movement. The room was bathed in the soft glow of early dawn, the curtains not quite thick enough to keep out the light.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of her dream. She quickly dressed in her usual work attire, a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, and headed down to the lobby to meet the others. The team was already there, gathered around a large table with a spread of coffee and pastries. Aaron Hotchner looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her flushed cheeks.

Hotch could smell the subtle change in Y/N's scent, the sweet aroma of an omega in the early stages of heat. He cleared his throat and announced, "Alright, everyone. We're heading to the police station to review the latest evidence and coordinate with local law enforcement." His voice was firm, his gaze flicking briefly to the young omega before returning to the rest of the team.

The day passed in a blur of interviews and crime scenes, Y/N's scent growing stronger with each passing hour. It was a silent, unspoken tension that hung in the air, the other male agents giving her a wider berth than usual. Spencer couldn't focus, his mind racing with images of her writhing in ecstasy beneath him. He found himself glancing at her frequently, his eyes drawn to the way her shirt clung to her breasts, the way her cheeks flushed with the slightest exertion. The urge to claim her was like a beast clawing at the inside of his chest, demanding to be released.

While walking over to the coffee pot, a leering smile spread across one of the uniformed officers' faces as he watched Y/N's hips sway. He leaned in close, his voice a lecherous whisper. "Looks like someone's ready to be mounted," he said, his eyes raking over her body. The other officers snickered, the sound grating on Spencer's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Hotch's head snapped up at the crude remark, his alpha instincts flaring. The room went silent as he stalked over to the group, his eyes burning with fury. He stepped in front of the offending officer, his shoulders squared and his expression hard. "That's enough," he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down the man's spine. "You will address Agent L/N with the respect she deserves, or you can take your comments and your sorry excuse for an attitude elsewhere."

The officer's smile faded, his face paling as he took a step back. "S-sorry, Agent Hotchner," he stuttered, visibly intimidated by the alpha's dominance. The tension in the room dissipated slightly, but the protective vibe from the team remained palpable.

Y/N's cheeks burned as she walked back to her seat, trying to ignore the stares of the other officers. She took a sip of her coffee, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the unease in her stomach. As the day dragged on, she grew increasingly uncomfortable, her skin feeling too tight and her senses heightened. The smell of coffee grew too strong, the fabric of her clothes irritating her sensitive skin. Her stomach cramped, and she felt a sudden need to be away from the male presence in the room.

It was only when JJ pulled her aside, her eyes filled with concern, that the pieces finally clicked into place. "Are you okay?" JJ whispered, her voice low and soothing. "You're flushed, and you've been looking a little…uncomfortable."

Y/N's hand flew to her stomach, her eyes wide with realization. "Oh no," she murmured, the truth dawning on her. "I think I'm going into heat."

JJ's eyes widened in understanding, her grip on Y/N's arm tightening. "You need to tell Hotch," she said urgently. "We can't have unmated males around you in this state."

Nodding, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She didn't want to be a liability on the case, but she couldn't ignore the primal pull of her body. She nodded, and JJ slipped away, leaving her in the women's room.

The walls felt like they were closing in, the room suddenly too warm. Her stomach churned, and she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. Y/N leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink, trying to get a grip on herself. The realization that she was going into heat hit her like a ton of bricks. Hotch was an alpha; he would have picked up on her scent immediately. The thought of his reaction made her stomach drop.

Her eyes searched the mirror, looking for any signs of the change that was happening to her. Her pupils had dilated slightly, and her cheeks were flushed. She could feel the pheromones radiating from her, calling out to any unmated within range. Panic set in, and she knew she had to tell him, had to get out of there before she became a distraction. Before any of the unmated in the precinct tried to claim her.

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest as she tried to compose herself. She couldn't let them see her like this, not when they were so close to catching the Unsub. She took a deep breath, willing the scent of her impending heat to recede. It was a fool's errand; she knew that once an omega's heat started, there was no hiding it.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she could feel the weight of every male gaze in the precinct on her. It was like a tangible force, pushing her to submit, to let one of them claim her. Her legs felt wobbly, and she clutched her stomach, willing the pain to subside. The air was thick with the scent of testosterone and desire, making it hard to breathe.

The case they were working on was a stark reminder that, no matter how much the world moved forward, some dark corners remained stubbornly entrenched in the past. The idea of an unmated omega was still a taboo subject, one that brought out the basest instincts in the men around here.

Y/N's steps grew heavier as she made her way back to the team, the whispers of the male officers like a toxic fog that clung to her. She could see the way they watched her, the hunger in their eyes. Here, in this small town, the old ways died hard. The stench of misogyny and discrimination was a palpable presence that made her skin crawl.

Spencer's protective instincts kicked in. He could feel the tension in the air, the way it thickened with the scent of unbridled lust. His eyes scanned the room, his grip on his notepad tightening. He knew Y/N was in trouble, knew that he had to get her out of there before things got out of hand. He caught Emily's eye and jerked his head towards the door. "Get the keys and start the car" he murmured tersely.

Emily's confusion was evident, but she didn't question him. She knew Spencer well enough to trust his gut, especially when it came to Y/N. She nodded and slipped out of the room, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. Spencer turned to Y/N, his voice low and urgent. "We need to go." He took her by the elbow, guiding her gently but firmly towards the exit.

Her eyes searched his, questions swirling in the depths of her gaze. "What's happening?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Spencer didn't answer, his focus solely on navigating the gauntlet of male officers that seemed to have grown denser in the short time they had been apart. His hand on her arm was a silent reassurance, a promise that he would keep her safe.

The cool night air hit her like a slap in the face as they stepped outside. The crispness of it helped to clear her head, the scent of her heat less overpowering. Spencer led her to the car, his eyes never leaving her as he opened the door and helped her inside. Emily was already behind the wheel, the engine running, the headlights casting a pool of light on the deserted street.

"Take her back to the hotel," Spencer instructed Emily, his voice tight with urgency. "Keep her safe."

Emily nodded, her gaze flicking to Y/N's flushed face before she shifted the car into drive. The engine roared to life, and the tires squealed as they peeled out of the precinct's parking lot. Y/N leaned back in the seat, her eyes closed, trying to ignore the way her body was betraying her. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the scent of her arousal growing stronger by the second.

Spencer watched the car pull away, his mind racing. He had to tell Hotch, had to make sure she was protected. He took a deep breath and headed back into the precinct, his steps quick and purposeful. The eyes of the male officers followed him, their gazes lingering on his retreating back.

Spencer could hear the murmur of his and JJ's voices. He paused, his hand hovering over the slight ajar door. "We can't risk it," Hotch was saying, his voice tight with concern. "We need to get her somewhere safe, away from here."

JJ's voice was just as urgent. "But the case, we can't just leave it—"

Spencer pushed the door all the way open, interrupting them mid-sentence. His eyes were wild, a mix of fear and determination etched into his features. "I had Emily take her back to the hotel," he announced, his voice strained. "But we can't just leave it at that. We need to make sure she's safe, that no one tries to claim her."

Hotch nodded gravely, his expression tightening. "You're right," he said, his gaze flicking to the door that Y/N had just left through. "We need to be more vigilant than ever. Her heat is going to make her a target for any unmated male in the area."

JJ nodded in agreement. "But we can't let it affect the case. We have to catch this unsub before he strikes again."

Hotch's jaw clenched. "We'll split up the workload," he decided. "JJ, you and Prentiss stay with Y/N. The rest of us will keep working the case from here."

Spencer's chest tightened with a possessive instinct that he had never felt before. The thought of anyone else being with Y/N while she was in heat was unbearable. He needed to be the one to comfort her, to keep her safe from the predators that would be drawn to her scent. His eyes met Hotch's, and he could see the alpha's understanding in the depths of his gaze.

Hotch took a step closer, his voice a low rumble that only Spencer could hear. "You know I can't have you around her like this," he said, his expression a mix of sympathy and resolve. "It's too risky."

Spencer's eyes flashed with frustration, but he knew Hotch was right. The alpha's protective instincts were as much a part of him as Spencer's own need to claim her. "I know," he forced out, his voice tight.

Hotch clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep her safe," he promised. "But we also need you to stay focused on the case. We can't let this distract us from catching the Unsub."

Spencer nodded, swallowing hard. "I know," he murmured. "But what if—"

Hotch's hand on his shoulder was firm, cutting him off. "You're the best we've got, Reid," he said, his voice firm. "Your mind is crucial to cracking this case. We need you here."

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to push down the primal need that was threatening to overwhelm him. He knew Hotch was right; Y/N was in good hands with Emily and JJ. But the thought of her in heat, vulnerable and alone, was almost too much to bear. "Understood," he said, his voice strained.

As he sat down at the table, the scent of her still lingered in the air, a sweet, musky aroma that seemed to have seeped into every corner of the room. It was like a siren's call, taunting him with what he couldn't have. He closed his eyes, willing the images away. Her naked body, writhing with need, begging for his touch.

The case notes in front of him blurred, and he found himself tracing the same line over and over again with his finger. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, torn between the hunt for the Unsub and the overwhelming desire to claim Y/N.

With a growl of frustration, Spencer shoved his chair back and began to pace the room. He needed to focus, to find a pattern, a clue that would lead them to the killer. The scent of Y/N's heat was a constant distraction, a siren's song that played on repeat in his head. But he couldn't let it derail him. Not now, not when they were so close.

He picked up a file, his eyes scanning the pages with a fervor that was almost desperate. His mind raced, trying to connect the dots. The Unsub was clever, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that led them in circles. But Spencer knew he had to be in here somewhere, hiding in plain sight. He couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of saving lives.

He could feel the eyes of the other agents on him, the weight of their expectations. They needed him to be the genius he was known to be, not the lovesick fool his mind was trying to turn him into. Spencer took a deep breath, centering himself. He had to find a way to block out the scent of Y/N's heat, to focus solely on the case.

The clock on the wall ticked away the hours, the seconds feeling like an eternity. The rest of the team worked tirelessly around him, each one driven by the urgency of the case. Files were spread out across the table, coffee cups grew cold, and the room grew stale with the scent of their determination. Yet, Spencer's mind kept wandering, his thoughts slipping back to Y/N and the desperate need to claim her.

Midnight approached, and the team's energy began to wane. The room grew quieter, the murmurs of conversation dying down as the weight of their failure to catch the Unsub grew heavier. One by one, they called it a night, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and frustration. Spencer knew he should be just as tired, but the ache in his body was keeping him wired, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N.

With a final sigh, he stood, his legs protesting after hours of inactivity. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be with her, needed to protect her from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of this small town. The scent of her heat had been a constant distraction all evening, a siren's call that grew stronger with each passing moment.

He headed back to the hotel, his mind racing with the urgency of his need. The elevator ride up seemed to take forever. When the doors finally opened onto his floor, the air was thick with her pheromones, a sweet, potent scent that made his blood boil. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the beast that stirred within him. He had to be in control, had to keep his head.

But the moment he stepped into the hallway, the scent grew stronger, and his resolve began to crumble. His heart raced, his cock hardening in his pants. His body was screaming at him to claim her, to make her his, to fill her with his seed and keep her safe. It was a primal urge that was almost too much to resist.

With each step closer to her door, Spencer's control slipped further away. His breaths grew shallower, his eyes locked onto the wood that separated them. His hand hovered over the handle, his knuckles white with the effort of not giving in. The need to be inside her, to feel her warmth and hear her cries of pleasure, was an ache that was becoming unbearable.

He paused, his mind a battleground between his rational self and the primal instincts that ruled during a rut. The smell of her heat was like a drug, clouding his judgment and driving him to the brink of madness. He knew it was wrong, that he could lose everything by acting on these urges, but the beast inside of him didn't care about consequences.

The sound of a door opening down the hall jolted him back to reality, and Spencer realized the risk he was taking. He had to get away from her before he lost control. With a herculean effort, he turned on his heel and raced to his room.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the silent hotel corridor. His hand trembled as he reached for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The fabric clung to his damp skin, the scent of Y/N's heat clinging to him like a second skin. He stumbled to the shower, cranking the cold water to the max. The icy spray hit him like a slap, but it did little to ease the fever in his blood.

Spencer leaned against the tiles, his head dropping back as the water pummeled his face. He closed his eyes and took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to drown out the images that plagued him. The scent of her arousal had him wired, his body begging for release. With a growl of frustration, he reached for the soap, his hand shaking as he lathered it over his chest. His eyes drifted down to the evidence of his desire, thick and heavy between his legs.

He knew he needed to relieve the tension, to purge the images from his mind before he did something stupid. His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking firmly as he pictured Y/N's face, her eyes filled with need. The water sluiced over his skin, mixing with the scent of the soap and the heady scent of his own arousal. His mind was a maelstrom of desire, each touch sending shockwaves through his body.

In his imagination, she was sprawled out on the bed, her legs spread wide, begging for him to fill her. Her voice was a siren's call, her sweet scent of heat driving him wild. "Please, Spencer," she moaned, her voice a breathless whisper. "Knot me, breed me. Make me yours."

The thought was almost too much to handle, and Spencer's hand moved faster, his strokes growing more urgent. He could feel the pressure building, his balls tightening with the need to release. In his mind's eye, he saw her, writhing beneath him, her body begging for his dominance. "Take me," she whimpered, her eyes glazed with lust. "Make me scream your name."

The scent of her heat filled his nose, a sweet, musky aroma that made his mouth water. He could almost taste the slick leaking from her swollen sex, the sweetness of her arousal coating his tongue. His teeth clenched as he fought to keep from groaning out loud, his mind racing with the thought of her tight, wet warmth around his cock.

Spencer's hand tightened around his shaft, stroking faster as he imagined pushing into her, feeling her stretch to accommodate him. His body was taut with tension, his muscles coiled and ready to spring. The water cascaded down his body, mixing with the precum that leaked from the tip of his cock. He could feel the knot at the base of his shaft beginning to swell, the tightness spreading through him like a warm embrace.

The pressure grew unbearable, his hips bucking involuntarily as he chased the elusive release. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. He couldn't control his hips as he began fucking his fist, the rhythm frantic and desperate. The cold water did nothing to cool the heat that raged through him, the need to claim Y/N consuming every thought.

Suddenly, it was as if a dam had broken. Spencer let out a roar of a moan as he came, his knot popping through his tightened grip. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a white-hot wave that crashed over him, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. He leaned against the wall of the shower, his knees threatening to give out as the climax ripped through his body.

His cock continued to pulse, shooting ropes of cum that mingled with the water as it swirled down the drain. Each spurt brought a shiver of pleasure-pain, his body wrung out by the intensity of his release. The cold water had turned lukewarm, but it still felt like ice against his feverish skin. He gulped down lungfuls of air, trying to regain control of his racing heart. With his hand still wrapped around his sensitive length his body felt both relieved and utterly drained.

Finally, the last tremor passed, and Spencer stepped out of the shower, his legs wobbly. He grabbed a towel, the rough fabric scraping against his over-sensitized skin. He dried himself off enough to climb into bed, his body begging for rest. He collapsed onto the mattress, the coldness of the sheets a welcome contrast to his overheated body.

As he lay there, the images from his fantasy played on a loop in his mind, taunting him with what he couldn't have. The scent of his release hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of Y/N's heat that had somehow followed him into his room. He buried his face in the pillow, willing sleep to claim him, to dull the ache in his chest.

But the bed felt cold, empty without her. He tossed and turned, his body craving the warmth of her touch. His mind raced with the memories of their unspoken moments, the glances that spoke volumes, the gentle brushes of skin that had always seemed so innocent before. Now, they were a torment, a reminder of what could never be.

Finally, exhaustion claimed him, and he slipped into a dreamless sleep. It was a brief reprieve from the tumultuous emotions that raged within him, a quiet sanctuary where he could just be. But even in his unconsciousness, the scent of her heat lingered, teasing him, whispering sweet nothings that his subconscious yearned to believe.

The next morning, Spencer woke with a start, the weight of his need for Y/N still pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He took a deep breath, trying to push the images from his mind, but it was no use. He knew he had to end this case, not just for the sake of the victims, but for her.

With renewed determination, he dressed quickly and headed to the lobby. The scent of her heat was faint but still present, a constant reminder of the urgency of the situation. At the station, he bypassed the greetings and jostling of his colleagues, his eyes locked on the mountain of case files waiting for him.

Spencer's mind raced as he sifted through the evidence, his thoughts a whirlwind of patterns and motives. Every piece of the puzzle was a step closer to ending this nightmare, to being able to be there for Y/N without the shadow of the Unsub looming over them. His mind was a sharp blade slicing through the chaos, looking for the one thread that would unravel the entire case. The desire to claim her, to keep her safe and warm in his arms, fueled his every move.

Back at the hotel, Y/N's heat was steadily ramping up. She was still in the uncomfortable and flushed phase, her body sending out signals that she was ripe and ready to be claimed. The air in her room was thick with the sweet musk of her arousal, a scent that seemed to cling to every surface. She couldn't help but feel exposed, vulnerable, as the need grew stronger with each passing moment. Her thoughts strayed to Spencer, the way his eyes had darkened with hunger when he'd looked at her earlier, and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same primal pull that she did.

JJ, bless her, was blissfully oblivious to the internal battle raging within Y/N. They pored over the case files together, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N tried to focus on the words in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to the dream she'd had the night before. The way Spencer had claimed her, marked her as his own, was a tantalizing fantasy that played on repeat in her mind's eye. She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the insistent throb between her legs, the low-level buzz of need that grew stronger with every passing hour.

The hotel room felt stifling, the air charged with the scent of her heat. She knew it was only a matter of time before it became impossible to ignore, before her body demanded she seek out the strongest, most dominant to claim her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the scent grew stronger, her arousal a call that no one could ignore.

Y/N looked up at JJ, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know this isn't easy for you to see."

JJ's gaze was filled with understanding. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured her, her tone gentle. "It's just biology. But we need to make sure you're safe. Spencer would have my head if anything happened to you."

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flaming even hotter at the mention of Spencer. She had no doubt that he was feeling the same pull she was, but she didn't know if he felt the same way she did. The fear of rejection was a knot in her stomach, twisting tighter the more she thought about it.

They had to catch the Unsub before her heat grew too intense to ignore. The thought of going through this in front of the team was mortifying, but the fear of what could happen if they didn't catch the killer was far worse. Y/N knew her time was limited, and she hoped they could crack the case in the next 12 hours before her heat was in full swing making flying home no longer an option.

The walls of the hotel room felt like they were closing in on her, the air thick with the scent of her heat. She knew it was only a matter of time before every male in the vicinity would be drawn to her like moths to a flame. The thought of being claimed by a stranger, of being used and discarded, was a nightmare she couldn't shake.

Three hours had passed, and Y/N felt her concentration waning. The words on the case files swam before her eyes. A sudden ringtone pierced the silence, and JJ's phone lit up on the table.

Morgan's name flashed on the screen, and Y/N's heart leaped in her chest. "It's Derek," JJ said, her voice tight with anticipation as she answered the call.

"We've got him," Morgan's deep voice boomed through the speaker, the excitement palpable even over the phone line. "It's a local car mechanic, a guy named Charles Kessler. We're heading to his house now."

Y/N's heart raced. This could be it, the break they needed. JJ's eyes met hers, and she could see the same hope reflected in their depths. "Good work, Derek," JJ said, her voice tight. "We'll wait for your update."

As soon as she hung up, she turned to Y/N, her expression serious. "We need to get you home," she said, her voice low. "I'm calling for the jet to be on standby." Y/N nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

--

Spencer, feeling the pressure of the clock ticking down, had thrown himself into the case with a ferocity that surprised even him. He'd been able to narrow down their suspect list, giving Garcia a manageable list of people to do a deep dive into. His mind was a whirlwind of data and instinct, each piece of information a thread in the tapestry of the killer's twisted mind.

"Got him," Garcia exclaimed over the phone. "It's Charles Kessler. He's got a history of assaults on omegas and his alibis for the murders are shaky at best."

With a flick of her wrist, Garcia sent the home and work addresses to the team's phones. The room was a flurry of movement as the agents grabbed their gear, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Hotch's voice was a low growl as he gave the order to split into two groups.

The first car, with Hotch at the wheel and Morgan riding shotgun, peeled out of the hotel parking lot, tires squealing as they headed for Kessler's workplace. Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss piled into the second car, their eyes locked on the GPS as they navigated the quiet streets toward his house. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the scent of anticipation and fear.

They arrived at a small, nondescript house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a sad-looking fence. The curtains were drawn, giving no clue to what lay within. Spencer took a deep breath, trying to clear his head of the cacophony of his thoughts.

Rossi took point, his hand on his gun, eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of life. Prentiss was right behind him, her expression a mask of determination, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them inside. Spencer brought up the rear, his mind racing with the details of the case, trying to anticipate the Unsub's next move.

They approached the house with caution, each step echoing in the stillness of the night. The door was unlocked, swinging open with a low creak that seemed to shatter the silence. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound their hushed breaths and the rustle of their clothing.

The trio split up, moving through the rooms with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Spencer's instincts screamed at him that Kessler wasn't here, but they had to be thorough. The emptiness of the house was almost a taunt, a silent challenge to their skills. Each room they cleared was a step closer to the inevitable disappointment that he wasn't here.

They found no signs of struggle, no evidence of a hasty retreat, just an eerie stillness that seemed to mock their urgency. The house was disorganized but not dirty, a testament to a life lived by a single man who clearly had issues with neatness.

Suddenly, Spencer's phone buzzed, interrupting the tense silence. It was Hotch's name on the screen, and he snatched it up, his heart racing. "We've got him," Hotch's voice was gruff. "We're bringing Kessler in now."

The relief was palpable, the air in the room seemed to change. Spencer's chest loosened, the tension draining from his muscles.

"We're on our way back," he said into the phone, his eyes scanning the room for any clue they might have missed.

As he ended the call, Emily's voice cut through the quiet. "Guys, come here," she called from the bathroom, her tone urgent.

Spencer and Rossi rushed in to find her standing by the sink. She pointed to the small, crimson smear that had dried around the drain. "It's blood," she murmured, her eyes wide with fear.

They couldn't believe their luck. A blatant clue, a smear of evidence that seemed almost too convenient. But in their line of work, they knew better than to question such fortune. They had seen cases unravel with less.

With haste, they called in the local forensics team to process the scene. He knew that the discovery of blood could be a pivotal moment, a chink in Kessler's armor that could be exploited to get a confession.

The three of them exchanged grim nods before retreating to the car, leaving the house to the white-suited technicians who would meticulously comb through every inch. The drive back to the station was tense, each lost in their own thoughts about what they had found. Spencer's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Charles Kessler.

Once back at the precinct, they found Hotch and Morgan waiting, the latter looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unharmed. The Unsub had been caught trying to flee his workplace, the same desperation that had led him to leave behind the incriminating evidence at his home.

Emily quickly filled Hotch in on their discovery, her voice low and urgent. Hotch's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he listened to her report. He knew the significance of that crimson smear, the potential it held for their case.

"Good work," he said, his voice tight. "I'll handle this. You three get the case files together and make sure everything's ready for the flight back. We need to tie this up as quickly as possible."

Emily nodded, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "Understood, Hotch." She turned to Spencer and Rossi, her eyes flicking to the door. "Let's move."

Hotch strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he made his way to the Chief's office. The urgency of the situation was not lost on him. They had a job to do, and they were leaving a member of their pack vulnerable. But the case was almost closed, and the Unsub was in custody. It was time to bring Y/N home.

He stepped into the Chief's office, the scent of stale coffee and paperwork hanging heavy in the air. The Chief looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and wariness at the sight of Hotchner's tense posture. "What's the status?" he barked, his eyes sharp.

Hotch took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "We've got him," he said, the words feeling both like a victory and a weight lifted. "Charles Kessler. We found blood at his place, and the local team is processing it now. I trust your officers can take it from here."

The Chief looked up, his eyes assessing Hotch's expression. "Your team is leaving?"

"Yes," Hotch confirmed, his jaw tight. "We have… a situation that requires our immediate attention back in Quantico."

The Chief leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "Is everything alright?"

Hotch nodded curtly. "We've made significant progress on the case, but we have a… personal situation back home that requires our attention." He couldn't bring himself to say more, not wanting to reveal the intimate details of his team's dynamics. The Chief studied him for a moment, then nodded understandingly.

"Very well, Agent Hotchner. I'll make sure everything is handled accordingly," he said, his tone softer than before. "Our team will take over the interrogation and processing of Mr. Kessler. You've provided excellent leads; I'm confident we'll get a confession and make sure he's behind bars for good."

Hotch nodded, his eyes never leaving the Chief's. "Thank you," he said, the weight of his words heavy with unspoken relief. He turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his team waiting for him outside.

The drive to the hotel was a blur, the tension in the car thick enough to slice through with a knife. Spencer's hand kept clenching and unclenching, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. He hadn't seen her since he had Emily drive her back to the hotel, and the need to be near her was almost overwhelming.

As they pulled into the hotel's lot, Spencer's eyes darted to the lobby, searching for any sign of her. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her walking out of the elevator, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the hotel lights.

Y/N looked up as the car approached, her eyes locking onto Spencer's. The air was thick with the scent of her heat, and he could see the exhaustion etched into her delicate features. She was a vision of vulnerability, and his protective instincts roared to life.

He barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before jumping out and rushing to her side. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and pain. "We need to go," she murmured, her voice low and thready.

The team didn't need to be told twice. They split off to their individual rooms, each one moving with the speed of a seasoned pro. The hallway was a blur of motion, doors opening and closing in rapid succession as they gathered their belongings.

The jet was waiting for them on the tarmac, its engines humming with the promise of escape from the hellish week they had endured. Before he could board, Hotch pulled Spencer aside, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "Spencer," he began, his voice low and gruff. "Are you sure you're okay flying with her like this?"

Spencer knew what he meant, the question hanging heavily in the air between them. The scent of Y/N's heat was a siren's call, a constant reminder of the primal urges that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath, trying to push the images of her wet and needy out of his mind. "I'll manage," he replied, his voice tight with the effort of control.

Hotch's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of weakness or doubt. Spencer's jaw clenched as he nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I've got it under control," he said firmly, his voice carrying the conviction of a man who had faced his inner demons and was determined not to let them win.

"Good," Hotch said, clapping a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Because I trust you, Reid. You know what's at stake here, and I know you'll do right by her." With that, he turned and headed towards the jet, leaving Spencer to his thoughts.

Spencer watched him go, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in his stomach. He knew what was expected of him, knew the lines he couldn't cross. But as he climbed the stairs to the jet, the scent of Y/N's heat grew stronger, and he felt maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head.

-

Y/N was laid out on the couch, her head in Emily's lap, her skin so heated and flushed she could feel it burning even through the fabric of her clothes. The air in the jet's cabom was stifling, thick with the scent of her heat, and she couldn't help but wish she could rip off every stitch and let the cool breeze from the air conditioner caress her overheated skin. Her eyes were closed, but the images from her dream played out behind her lids, a tantalizing dance of passion and submission that made her pulse race.

Emily's hand was a gentle, soothing presence on her forehead, stroking through her hair as she whispered reassurances. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice a soft lullaby in the otherwise silent cabin. "We're almost home."

Y/N's breaths were coming in short, shallow pants as she straddled Emily's lap. The pressure of the beta's body against her own was a comfort, a grounding force amidst the chaos of her raging hormones. Her nose was buried in Emily's neck, inhaling the comforting scent that the older woman was giving off.

Emily's hand stilled on her forehead, her eyes flicking to Spencer, who was sitting a few seats away. His knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests, his eyes locked on the floor. The tension in his body was almost tangible, the effort to maintain control evident in every line of his form.

The scent of Y/N's heat grew stronger with each passing minute, and Spencer felt his own body responding, a spontaneous rut approaching like a storm on the horizon. He knew the moment it hit, there would be no going back, no way to hide the raw, primal need that would consume him.

Ten minutes to Quantico. He could hold out, he had to. Spencer's eyes flicked to his watch, the seconds ticking away with cruel precision. The jet's cabin was a prison of his own making, the walls closing in around him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his eyes never leaving the floor.

But then he heard it, the soft whimper that seemed to pierce the silence like a bullet. Y/N's scent was a siren's call, and he couldn't ignore it anymore. His eyes snapped up, and his gaze locked onto the sight of her in Emily's lap. Her eyes were closed, her breaths coming in short, erratic gasps, and his heart clenched in his chest. He knew she was in pain, that her heat was reaching its peak, and the need to claim her, to be the one to ease her suffering, was a beast inside of him that was begging to be unleashed.

Suddenly, the plane jolted, and the sound of the engines changed pitch. He felt the bump of the jet landing back down on earth, the vibrations traveling through his body and up to his very core. The moment the plane stopped moving, Spencer was out the door, gulping down greedy breaths of fresh air. He could feel his mind beginning to clear, the fog lifting slightly as the scent of Y/N's heat grew cleared his system.

The team gathered their bags and disembarked, the tension in the air thick and palpable. Spencer's eyes remained glued to Y/N, his protective instincts on high alert. Walking towards the car, he couldn't help but notice the way she leaned into Emily, seeking comfort and relief from the unrelenting heat.

But Y/N had had enough. As the others pulled away in their cars, she stopped Emily, her voice firm. "I need to talk to Spencer," she said, her eyes pleading. Emily looked at her for a long moment, understanding dawning in her eyes. She nodded, giving Spencer a look that conveyed both her concern and her trust in him.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes searching Spencer's face. "Spencer," she began, her voice shaking. "I… I need to tell you something before…" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing a darker shade of red.

Spencer's eyes widened, his heart racing. He knew what was coming, the words she had been holding back for days now. "What is it?" he asked, his voice gruff with tension.

"I… I've been feeling this way for a while," Y/N began, her voice trembling. "And I don't want you to think it's just because of this heat." She took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes searching his for any sign of understanding.

Spencer's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. "What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Spencer, I…" she took a deep breath, her chest heaving with the effort. "I've liked you for a long time. And I need you to know it's not just the heat."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. He had hoped, dreamed even, that she felt the same, but hearing it out loud was like a punch to the gut. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. "Y/N," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know it's not just the heat. I've felt this way about you too, for so long."

Her eyes searched his, hope and fear mingling in their depths. "You have?" she whispered, her voice a soft caress against his skin.

Spencer nodded, his thumb still brushing away the tears that glistened on her cheeks. "More than you know," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. The words felt like a weight lifted from his chest, the truth of his feelings finally spoken aloud.

Y/N's eyes searched his, her breathing growing ragged. "Take me home," she begged, her voice a whisper. "Please, Spencer."

Spencer's hand tightened on her cheek, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice thick with the same need that was consuming her.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "More than anything," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Spencer took a step back, his hand falling away from her face. The distance was agonizing, but he knew they needed to talk, to understand each other's feelings and boundaries before giving in to the overwhelming pull of their biology. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked at Emily, her eyes wide with hope and fear. The beta met her gaze, her expression unreadable. But the moment she nodded, something in Y/N's chest unlocked. She turned back to Spencer, her breath hitching in her throat. "Emily knows," she admitted, her voice shaking. "I told her before we got on the jet."

Emily's eyes searched hers, a question in her gaze. "Is this what you really want?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving Spencer's. "More than anything," she whispered.

The tension between them was palpable as they walked to Spencer's car. His hand hovered near hers, but he didn't dare touch her, not yet. The drive back to her apartment was silent, filled only with the sound of their ragged breaths and the hum of the engine. Spencer's mind raced, trying to organize his thoughts, his body screaming at him to claim her, to make her his.

When they finally arrived, Spencer stepped out of the car, his eyes never leaving hers. He opened the door for her, his hand brushing against her arm as he helped her out. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the beast at bay.

The moment they walked through the door of her apartment, the dam broke. Y/N launched herself at him, her mouth crashing against his in a kiss that was desperate and needy. Spencer groaned, his arms wrapping around her automatically, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. His control slipped, the scent of her heat like a drug, making his body pulse with need.

He reluctantly pulled away, his chest heaving with the effort. "We need to get you taken care of first," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. He didn't trust himself to be near her without claiming her, without giving in to the urges that were consuming him.

Spencer turned away from her, walking through the apartment with purpose. Each step was a battle against the primal instinct to push her down and take her right there, but he knew that wasn't what she needed. Not yet. He checked each window, his eyes scanning the darkness outside, ensuring no unmated alphas could sense her scent. The need to protect her was stronger than his own need to claim her, and he wasn't going to let anyone else touch her, not now, not ever.

The doors were next, each lock clicking into place with a satisfying finality. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly with every barrier he put between her and the outside world. The apartment was small, but it was hers, and he would make it their fortress tonight.

In the kitchen, Spencer's eyes scanned the fridge and cabinets with a critical eye. He knew the depths of an omega's hunger during heat, and he wasn't taking any chances. He grabbed a notepad and scribbled a list of essentials: protein, carbs, water, and some of the sweet treats he knew she liked. They had to have enough to last them through the next couple of days, just in case.

As he turned to leave the kitchen, he found Y/N standing in the doorway, her eyes on him with a mix of longing and apprehension. The sight of her, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her clothes sticking to her body from the heat of her need, made his control waver. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff as he handed her a bottle of water. "You need to stay hydrated."

Y/N took the bottle, her hands trembling as she twisted the cap. She took a tentative sip, the cool liquid sliding down her throat like a balm. She watched as Spencer walked over to the thermostat, his eyes never leaving hers as he cranked the AC up to the maximum setting.

The cold air began to blow, feeling like heaven on her flushed skin. Goosebumps erupted along her arms and neck, but she didn't care. It was the first time in hours that she felt anything other than the suffocating heat of her own body. She closed her eyes, savouring the relief, her breaths coming out in shaky sighs.

When she opened them again, she found Spencer watching her, his eyes dark and hungry. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and she knew she couldn't bear the touch of her clothes anymore. Her fingers began to fumble with the buttons of her shirt, desperate to feel the coolness of the air on her bare skin.

"Let me," Spencer murmured, his voice thick with need. He stepped closer, his hands brushing hers aside as he carefully unbuttoned her shirt. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, the cool air washing over her skin like a balm.

Y/N's eyes remained locked on his as he unzipped her pants, his knuckles brushing against her feverish skin. Each touch was a spark, igniting the fire of desire that was already raging inside her. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric, her body trembling with anticipation.

Her clothes lay scattered around them, a testament to the urgency of the moment. Spencer's eyes raked over her, drinking in the sight of her nakedness. Her breasts were heavy with need, the peaks tight and sensitive, and she knew he could see the evidence of her arousal, the slickness that coated her thighs.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Y/N reached out and took Spencer's hand. He was a vision of restrained power, his own desire clear in the tension of his body. She tugged gently, and he followed her without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the bedroom.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Y/N's hunger took over. With a snarl of need, she yanked at Spencer's shirt, the fabric giving way under her frenzied touch. Buttons popped and flew in every direction, leaving a trail in their wake. Y/N's eyes raked over him, her hunger growing with every inch of skin revealed.

Spencer's eyes widened at the ferocity of her desire, his own need spiraling out of control. He reached for her, his hands trembling as he helped her rid him of his clothes. Her nails scraped against his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and he couldn't help the groan that tore from his throat.

Once they were both naked, the air in the room seemed to crackle with electricity. Spencer's eyes were drawn to the heat between her thighs, the slickness that gleamed in the soft light. He knew he had to be gentle, that she was in pain, but the need to claim her was a beast that was quickly taking over.

With a growl that was half desperation and half hunger, he dropped to his knees before her. His hands trembled as he spread her legs, the sight of her wet and swollen folds making his mouth water. Y/N's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him, her body taut with anticipation.

Spencer's tongue darted out, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, and she moaned, the sound echoing through the room. He lapped at her, slow and gentle, his tongue tracing the delicate line of her slit. The taste of her was intoxicating, a potent cocktail of need and desire that went straight to his head. He could feel the spontaneous rut he almost fell into come back in full force.

Her hips rocked against his mouth, urging him to go deeper, to claim her completely. He obeyed, sliding two fingers inside her tight, wet heat, curling them just so to hit that sweet spot that had her crying out his name. Spencer's eyes never left her as he worked her over, his mouth worshiping her, his teeth grazing her clit just enough to make her squirm.

And then she whispered it, the word that set his soul on fire. "Mate," she whimpered, her voice thick with need. The word sent a bolt of pure, animalistic lust through him, and he knew he could hold out no longer. He had to claim her, to make her his in every way possible.

With a growl that was more animal than human, Spencer stood, his cock thick and heavy with need. He could feel the rut fully taking over, the need to knot and breed her driving him to the brink of madness. Y/N's eyes were glazed with heat, her pupils blown wide as she watched him, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

Spencer's hand was at the back of her neck before he could think, his thumb pressing into the sensitive spot that sent a shiver down her spine. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice thick with need.

Y/N's eyes snapped to his, the reality of what she had just said crashing over her. But the need was too great, the heat too intense. "Mate," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Spencer's eyes darkened, the word echoing in his mind like a siren's call. He knew what it meant, what it signified. The bond between a mated pair was sacred, unbreakable. And here she was, offering it to him, begging for it. He didn't dare hope, didn't dare believe she truly knew what she was saying.

But the scent of her, the desperate need in her voice, it was all too real. He could feel the rut taking over, his body demanding he claim her, make her his in every way. He took a step closer, his cock pressing against her thigh, the heat of her skin almost unbearable. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice a hoarse growl. "Do you know what you're asking for?"

Her eyes searched his, and she nodded, the desperation in them unmistakable. "I need you," she whimpered, her voice breaking on the words. "Please, Spencer."

Spencer felt something primal stir within him, something that had been lying dormant for so long. He had always known he was a delta, a protector, a nurturer, but hearing her beg for him like this, it brought out an alpha energy he never knew he had. He wanted to claim her, to make her his in every way possible.

With a gentle but firm grip, Spencer guided Y/N to the bed, her legs wobbly with need. He watched as she lay back, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She looked just like the woman in his dreams, the one he had fantasized about countless times, her body begging for his touch, for his claim.

He hovered over her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her. The scent of her heat was intoxicating, calling out to his soul. His cock was rock-hard, the tip slick with pre-cum as it grazed her slit.

"Need… your knot, Delta," she gasped, the words coming out in choppy breaths. "Please… fill me."

The primal plea was all Spencer needed to hear. With a roar that was half-relief and half-desire, he thrust into her, filling her to the brink. Y/N's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his back as she begged for more.

He held her down, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had her crying out in ecstasy. The feel of her tight around him was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the warmth of her body enveloping him, the slickness of her arousal making every stroke pure bliss.

Y/N's nails raked down Spencer's back, leaving a trail of red in their wake. She wanted to scream out in relief at finally being filled, finally feeling the full force of his desire for her. Her legs tightened around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she urged him deeper, harder.

Spencer groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of her pussy gripping him so tightly. He had never felt anything so good, so right in his entire life. And then she started nipping at his throat, her teeth grazing his skin. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through him, making his cock pulse inside her.

"Spencer," she moaned, her voice thick with need. "Make me yours."

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, the gravity of her words sinking in. He knew what she was asking, the full implication of it. To claim an omega during heat was to form a bond that was unbreakable, a promise of forever. He felt his heart swell with love and possessiveness at the thought.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I need to hear you say it."

Her eyes searched his, the depth of her need reflected in their dark pools. "What?" she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation.

"I need you to say it," Spencer murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need to know you truly want this, that you want me to claim you as my mate."

Her eyes searched his, the depth of her need unmistakable. "I do," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want you to bite me, Spencer. I want you to claim me."

The words were like a catalyst, igniting the beast within him. With a snarl of pure need, Spencer leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. His teeth grazed her lower lip, and she shivered, her hips arching up to meet his. He could feel the moment she was ready, her body begging for the bite that would seal their bond.

With one hand braced against the headboard, Spencer's other hand slid down to her neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point that hammered against her skin. He watched as she closed her eyes, her body going taut with anticipation. His mouth hovered over her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

He felt her body tighten around him as he bit down, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck. She cried out, her nails digging into his back as the sensation of his claim shot through her. The pain was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

Her orgasm exploded through her, a supernova of sensation that left her seeing stars. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her muscles spasming around his cock as she rode the wave of ecstasy. The bond flared to life between them, a golden thread that connected their hearts, their souls, forever intertwined.

Spencer's hips stuttered as he felt the bite of her orgasm, her tight pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. He knew he was close, so close to filling her with his knot, to claiming her completely. With a snarl, he grabbed her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he lifted her legs. He folded her in half, the head of his cock teasing her swollen entrance as he looked down at her.

"Knot me," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, Spencer."

Her words were like a command, and Spencer couldn't hold back any longer. He thrust into her with everything he had, his cock swelling with the promise of his knot. Y/N's eyes went wide as she felt the pressure build, the anticipation making her pant with need.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her head as he brought her face to his neck. His pulse thrummed beneath her lips, a silent invitation. She didn't hesitate, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh, marking him as hers just as he had marked her.

The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent him over the edge. Spencer felt his knot swell, the pressure building until it was all he could focus on. He slammed into her, his body moving on instinct alone.

And then it was there, the sweet, tight heat of her pussy clamping down around his knot, the feeling of her body accepting him completely. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he rut into her, the friction of her walls around him sending him spiraling into the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced.

Y/N's eyes widened as she felt spurt after spurt of his cum fill her up, the heat of it branding her from the inside out. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever known, a fullness that was both overwhelming and incredibly satisfying. She moaned, her hips moving in time with his, her body eager to take every drop he had to give.

Their movements slowed, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Spencer's knot was still lodged deep inside her, his cock pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. Y/N could feel the warmth of his seed filling her, the feeling of completeness washing over her in waves. The intense need that had consumed her only moments ago had subsided, leaving in its wake a deep, sated contentment.

With a gentle sigh, Spencer manoeuvred them onto their side, his knot still buried within her, unwilling to let go just yet. He stroked her cheek softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had fallen unnoticed during their passionate union. His eyes searched hers, filled with a tenderness that took her breath away.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N nodded, her eyes still locked on his, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. "More than okay," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams of pleasure. "I've never felt like this before."

Spencer's hand tightened around her, his heart racing from the intensity of their bonding. "Me neither," he admitted, his voice just as rough. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his love for her shining in his eyes. "You're mine now, Y/N. I'll always protect you, always be here for you."

The words sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with her heat. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "And you're mine," she murmured, her voice filled with the same fierce possessiveness.

Spencer chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He kissed her softly, savouring the feel of her lips against his. "Always," he promised, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the minutes ticked by, Spencer felt the pressure of his knot begin to recede. The bond between them was still new, the connection still pulsing with energy. He could feel her body relaxing around him, the tightness of her heat giving way to a gentle, pulsing ache that reminded him of the bond they had just formed.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his. The need in her eyes was unmistakable, and Spencer felt his own body respond in kind. Her heat was just beginning, and she was ready to go again. He couldn't believe it, but his cock was already thickening again, eager to be inside her once more.

With a gentle smile, Spencer kissed her softly, his thumb stroking the claim mark on her neck. "Shh," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Let me love you properly this time."

He pulled away slowly, his knot slipping out of her with a wet pop that made them both gasp. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, sprawled out on the bed, her body flushed and sweaty, her eyes glazed with passion. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. She was beautiful, and she was his.

Their bodies were still connected by the invisible thread of their bond, the warmth of it pulsing between them like a living thing. Spencer felt his rut begin to ebb, the primal need to claim her giving way to a more gentle, loving desire. He knew he could go again, and he knew she needed it. But this time, he was going to take his time.

He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was sweet and tender. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and hollow with reverence. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body arching into him, begging for more.

Spencer's lips trailed down her neck, his teeth nipping at the claim mark he had left earlier. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. His mouth moved lower, kissing and licking her collarbone, his tongue tracing the line of her sternum.

Her breaths grew shallower as he approached her breasts, the anticipation of his touch making her nipples harden. Spencer took his time, savouring the taste of her skin, the scent of their mating still lingering in the air. When he finally reached her breasts, he took one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

Y/N's back arched off the bed, her hands tangling in his hair as she held him closer. He took his time, switching between each breast, his teeth grazing her tender flesh before his mouth closed around the other nipple. She gasped, her body trembling with the sensation.

His hand slid down her body, his fingers finding her clit, stroking it in a slow, torturous rhythm that had her panting and writhing beneath him. Y/N could feel the pleasure building, a crescendo that threatened to consume her. It was different this time, more intense, more intimate.

Spencer watched her face, his eyes dark with desire as he played her body like an instrument. His fingers slipped lower, coating themselves in her slickness. He teased her, his digit hovering just outside, the anticipation driving her wild.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, her body tensing as Spencer's fingers slid through her plump folds before sinking a single finger into her. The sensation was exquisite, sending a shiver down her spine. He watched her face intently, the pleasure etched across her features like a map to paradise. Her breath hitched as he touched her, his eyes never leaving her.

He marveled at the way her body responded to him, her walls clenching around his digit as if trying to pull him deeper. Spencer's own breath grew ragged as he slid in and out of her, watching the way her slickness coated his hand. The sight was mesmerizing, a testament to the depth of her need, her desire for him.

With a gentle push, he added another finger, stretching her slowly. Her grip on his hair tightened, her hips bucking up to meet his hand. He felt her muscles contract around him, her body begging for more. He could feel her building to another peak, her breaths coming faster and faster.

Spencer's mouth returned to her breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he suckled. Y/N's body responded with a jolt of pleasure, her hips rolling against his hand. He could feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around his fingers.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple, the taste of her skin making him growl with desire. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. Spencer knew she was close, the tension in her body almost tangible. He felt his own need rising again, his cock hardening with each whimper she made.

But he needed more. He needed to taste her slick, to devour the essence of her desire. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The scent of her arousal was making his mouth water and his cock ache with need.

When his tongue finally reached her folds, she gasped, her hips jolting upward. He took his time, savouring the sweet flavour of her heat. Spencer lapped at her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, teasing it with gentle strokes. Her legs quivered, her body begging for more.

Her thighs tightened around his head, trapping him in a prison of pure ecstasy. He didn't mind, though; he was exactly where he wanted to be. His nose buried in her scen. He could feel her getting closer, her body tightening around his digits. Spencer's tongue danced around her clit, the musky sweetness of her arousal coating his taste buds. He groaned, his own cock jerking with need.

Her hips began to rock against his face, her breaths coming in ragged pants. Spencer swiped his tongue through her folds, collecting her slick on his taste buds. The taste was exquisite, a flavor that was uniquely hers, and it had him craving more.

As Y/N's climax built, her body tightened around his fingers, her muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of need. Spencer felt the first tremor of her orgasm, the way her walls fluttered around his digits. The sound she made was one of pure bliss, a keening cry that sent a bolt of desire straight to his cock.

When she finally came, it was like watching a star explode. Her body arched off the bed, her back bowing as she screamed his name. The feeling of her pussy clamping down on his fingers was almost too much, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Her walls contracted around him, squeezing him in a rhythmic pulse. Y/N felt her pleasure wash over her in waves, her release a warm, wet embrace that seemed to resonate through every fibre of her being.

Spencer watched her come undone, his eyes dark with desire. He didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to keep her pleasure at its peak. Y/N's body was a symphony of sensation, and he was her maestro.

When her climax finally subsided, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving. Spencer pulled away, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her. Her legs fell open, giving him a perfect view of her glistening pussy, and he couldn't help but admire his handiwork.

He kissed his way back up her body, feeling the heat of her skin against his lips. When he reached her neck, he kissed the claim mark tenderly before pulling back to look into her eyes. "Ready for more?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed with desire. "Yes, mate," she breathed, her voice a desperate whine. "Please, need you to fill me with your cum."

Spencer's cock swelled with need at her words, the base of his shaft already beginning to thicken. He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together as he positioned himself at her entrance. He could feel her heat, her pussy begging for him, the slickness of her arousal coating his cock as he pushed inside her.

Being back in her felt like heaven. The warm, tight embrace of her body was like coming home after a long, hard day. The way she took him in, her walls clenching around him as if she never wanted to let go, was a feeling he could never get enough of.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. His rut was still strong, but he knew he had to be gentle. He had already taken her hard once, and she needed to be cherished now. His hips rolled slowly, pushing into her with a deliberate rhythm that had her crying out for more.

He watched her face as he moved, the way her eyes rolled back in her head, the way her lips parted in a silent moan. It was intoxicating, knowing he could reduce her to this state of pure, unbridled passion. He felt the base of his shaft swell again, the need to knot her rising once more. But he held back, his thrusts measured and deep.

Y/N's nails scraped down his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him to go faster. Spencer growled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he fought the urge to give in to his instincts. He knew he had to be careful with her, to not overwhelm her with his own needs. His hands gripped her hips, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin as he pushed into her with every ounce of control he had left.

He watched himself disappear into her pussy, the sight of his cock disappearing into her tight, wet heat making his knees tremble. It was like watching a painting come to life, every stroke a masterpiece of passion and need. The way she took him, her body moulding around him like a glove.

Spencer felt his knot swell, the beginnings of it teasing her hole as he pushed in deeper. He could see the anticipation in her eyes, the way she bit her bottom lip as she waited for the knot to catch.

Her walls quivered around him, and he knew she was close again. He leaned down, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her neck. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and needy. "Mine to love, mine to protect, mine to breed."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, and she clamped down on his cock, her pussy spasming around his length. Spencer couldn't hold back anymore. With a roar, he slammed into her, his knot swelling to fill her completely.

Y/N felt the heady fullness as he locked them together, her body trembling with the intensity of it all. His seed flooded her, hot and thick, filling her up until she thought she might burst. It was a feeling like no other, a claim so primal and complete that it left her feeling utterly and completely owned.

Her pussy clenched around his knot, trying to pull him deeper, to keep him with her forever. Spencer groaned, his own orgasm tearing through him like a hurricane. He could feel her muscles working him, her body begging for his seed, for the life they could create together.

Y/N's legs tightened around his waist, her ankles locking together as she held him close. Her walls fluttered around his cock, milking him with a fierce need that mirrored his own.

As the storm of passion abated, they lay there, intimately locked together, panting heavily. Spencer's knot was still embedded deep within her, the warmth of his cum filling her up, the aftershocks of their shared climax pulsing through them both.

Exhaustion began to seep into Spencer's limbs, his muscles feeling like overstretched elastic. His eyes closed, and his breathing grew deeper, the scent of their mating still heavy in the air. Y/N's body felt boneless, her strength drained from the intensity of their union. Her eyes remained closed, savouring the feeling of his weight pressing her into the mattress.

Sleep claimed them, a gentle reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions, sensations, and hormones that had consumed them. Their bodies remained intertwined, Spencer's knot still swollen within her, a physical reminder of the bond they had formed. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room, a comforting white noise that soothed their overstimulated bodies.

--

Y/N awoke later in the night, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of their intense mating. Despite the hours that had passed, the heat of her need hadn't waned. Her hand slid down to Spencer's side, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Her fingers found their way to his cock, already half-hard with the promise of what was to come. She smirked, feeling a sense of power in knowing she could stir him from sleep with just a touch. Carefully, she slid her body down the bed, her mouth watering at the thought of his taste.

Y/N wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the warm velvet of his skin against her palm. She leaned in, her breath hot against his cock as she took the tip into her mouth. Spencer stirred but didn't wake, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt the wet heat of her mouth envelop him.

Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting the remnants of their love making still lingering there. She took him deeper, her throat tightening around his length, her eyes watering slightly from the effort. Spencer's breathing grew more erratic, his body moving slightly with each stroke of her mouth.

She bobbed her head, taking him in as far as she could, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of salt and musk that had her craving more. Her other hand stroked his thigh, feeling the tension coil tighter and tighter with each pass.

Spencer's hips began to move, his body responding to the pleasure she was giving him without fully waking. Y/N took it as a sign to continue, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. She could feel his knot swelling, a gentle reminder of the way he claimed her. The thought made her core ache, her heat flaring up once more.

With a final suck, she pulled away, her eyes meeting his. He was awake now, his gaze dark with desire. "I need you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her earlier screams.

Spencer's eyes flashed with understanding, his hand reaching for her. "You have me," he murmured, pulling her closer. He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together in a silent conversation of love and need.

With a gentle push, he had her on all fours, her ass in the air, her pussy glistening with her slick. The sight of her like this, so vulnerable and open to him, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through him. He felt his cock swell, the urge to claim her again almost overwhelming.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He traced her spine with his fingertips, watching as goosebumps pebbled her skin. Spencer took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, his cock bobbing with need as he lined himself up with her entrance.

With a gentle push, he slid into her, the slickness of her pussy making it easy. Y/N gasped, her body stretching to accommodate him once more. The feeling of fullness was addictive, a warm embrace that had her hips rocking back to meet him. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his blood pulsing with the need to claim her again.

He wrapped his hand around her hip, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he began to move. His hips met hers in a steady rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Y/N's moans grew louder, her voice a symphony of pleasure that had Spencer's cock swelling even more.

He didn't hold back this time, letting his instincts take over as he claimed her in the most primal way possible. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, his cock pounding into her with a ferocity that had her panting and begging for more. Her ass jiggled with each impact, the sensation of his knot teasing her with every retreat and plunge.

Spencer's grip on her flesh was tight, his fingers digging into her soft curves as he pulled her back into each stroke. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate through the walls.

He felt the slickness of her pussy coating his cock as he drove into her, her moans music to his ears. Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more primal and needy than the last. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the world around them shattered.

Y/N's scream was a guttural sound of pure ecstasy as he hit her G-spot with a precision that made her toes curl. Her walls clamped down around him, the sensation so intense she thought she might pass out. The pleasure was like nothing she had ever felt before, a supernova that consumed her from the inside out.

Her pussy clenched around Spencer's cock, the muscles contracting in a vice-like grip. He felt her orgasm building, the way her body was responding to his touch. It was like watching a time-lapse of a flower blooming, beautiful and mesmerizing.

With a sudden jolt, Y/N's pussy spasmed, and she squirted, the warm, wetness of her release coating his cock. Spencer's eyes went wide with shock and pleasure, the sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was like a dam had burst, her arousal spraying onto him in a testament to the intensity of her climax.

He didn't stop, his hips moving faster, his cock swelling even more as he felt the beginnings of his knot. The pressure was intense, almost painful, but the thought of being trapped inside her, of filling her with his seed, had him panting with need.

Spencer slammed into her, his knot finally locking into place with a satisfying pop. Y/N screamed, her body jolting as she felt the fullness. Her pussy spasmed around him, her walls clenching in an attempt to hold him in place.

They remained like that for a moment, both lost in the intensity of their union. Then, with a gentle tug, Spencer laid her down on her side, his cock still buried deep within her. He reached out with one hand, his thumb finding her clit, and began to tease the sensitive bud in a slow, steady rhythm.

Y/N's body arched, the feeling of his knot deep inside her combined with the pressure on her clit was almost too much. She could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, a storm brewing on the horizon of pleasure. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream as he worked her body like a finely tuned instrument.

With his free hand, Spencer reached up to tease and pinch her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot straight to her core, her pussy clenching around his cock in response. He watched her reaction with a dark smile as he continued to manipulate her sensitive peak.

Her breaths grew shallower, her hips moving restlessly against his knot. "Again," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. Spencer was more than happy to oblige, his thumb flicking over her clit faster, the pad of his thumb pressing down just enough to drive her wild.

Her hand reached up to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds of her pleasure. Y/N's eyes met his, a silent plea for more, for the release that was just out of reach. Spencer leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

He knew he was playing with fire, but the thrill of watching her lose control was too great to resist. He pinched her nipple slightly harder, feeling the peak tighten under his touch. Her response was immediate, her pussy clamping down around his knot in a delicious rhythm that had his balls drawing up tight.

"Please," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut, "please, Spencer."

Her pleas only served to spur him on. He knew exactly what she needed, what she craved. He pinched her nipple a little harder, watching as her back arched and her hips bucked into his. The sensation of her silky heat gripping his knot was driving him wild, he needed to feel her come apart around him once more.

His thumb continued to work her clit, the pressure increasing with each pass. Y/N could feel the tension coiling in her belly, the tightness in her chest that signaled her impending release. Her hand fell away from her mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

Spencer watched her face contort with ecstasy. He knew she was close, could feel it in the way her pussy was pulsing around his knot. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Come for me, my love."

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and he knew she was there. With one last pinch to her nipple and a hard flick of his thumb against her clit, she shattered. Y/N's body convulsed in his arms, her pussy clamping down so hard on his cock that he had to bite back a shout of his own. Her orgasm washed over them both, a tsunami of pleasure that left them both gasping for air.

They lay there for a few moments, panting and sweaty, basking in the afterglow of their shared climax. Y/N's eyes remained closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she felt the last tremors of pleasure fade. Spencer's hand stroked her hair, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on her forehead as he watched her relax.

Spencer's knot grew smaller, slipping out of her with a wet pop. He felt the loss of her warmth acutely, but he knew she needed a moment to recover. Carefully, he pulled out of her, his cock still half-hard and glistening with their combined juices.

Y/N's body felt sore but satiated, her limbs like jelly. She could feel the stickiness between her legs, the evidence of their passion. She looked up at Spencer, her eyes filled with love and contentment. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice still thick with arousal. "For being here with me."

Spencer's smile grew, his eyes soft with affection. "Always," he assured her, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through her entire being. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Y/N pressed her nose into his neck, inhaling deeply. Spencer's scent was intoxicating, a mix of sweat and musk that made her hips rock back and forth, searching for friction against his thigh. His arms tightened around her, his own arousal evident as his cock began to harden once more.

"Again?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his, her need as potent as the scent of her heat that still lingered in the air. Spencer's cock was already beginning to swell again, the thought of being claimed once more making her body ache.

He rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply. His hands roamed over her body, relearning every curve and dip, his fingers tracing the lines of her hips before moving to cup her breasts. He felt the weight of them in his palms, the softness of her skin. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and she gasped into his mouth, her body arching towards him.

The digital clock on the bedside table read 3:14 AM, the red numbers glowing against the darkness of the room. The only other light was the soft glow of the moon filtering through the crack in the curtains, casting shadows across the bed. But they were not thinking of the time. Right now, all that mattered was the primal connection that had been forged between them.

Spencer's kiss grew more urgent, his hands moving to her thighs, pushing them apart as he settled himself between them. He could feel the warmth of her heat, the slickness of her desire. His cock, still sensitive from their previous mating, the tip brushing against her folds.

Y/N's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The pressure was almost unbearable, the need to have him inside her once more was overwhelming. Spencer groaned, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip before he broke the kiss. He took a moment to look down at her, his eyes dark with lust.

Her heat was still riding her hard, the pheromones in the air thick and potent. The scent of their mating lingered on their skin, a heady aroma that only served to fuel the fire between them. Y/N reached down, her hand guiding his cock to her entrance. The anticipation was a sweet torture, her body quivering with need.

With a low groan, Spencer pushed into her, his cock sliding through her slick folds with ease. She was so wet for him, so welcoming, her pussy clenching around him as he filled her up.

Y/N thrust her hips up desperately, the need to feel his knot inside her overwhelming. She needed to be claimed again, to be flooded with his seed, to have him mark her as his own. The intensity of her desire was like a living creature, clawing at her from the inside out, demanding to be sated.

With surprising strength fueled by her heat, she flipped their positions, straddling Spencer's hips. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she lined herself up with his cock, his eyes widening in shock and arousal. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance, and she took a deep breath before sliding down onto him, her pussy stretching around his thickness.

Her hips began to move, bouncing on his cock as fast as her thighs allowed. Each downward motion sent a jolt of pleasure through her body, the friction against her swollen clit making her eyes roll back in her head. Spencer's hands found her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he watched her ride him.

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to echo through every corner of the hotel suite. Spencer's hips jumped up to meet hers, his eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of her pussy swallowing his cock. The tightness, the wetness, the way she took him so eagerly.

Y/N's breath was coming in harsh pants, her chest heaving with each thrust. She could feel her orgasm building once more, the pressure growing with each passing second. Spencer's eyes were glued to her, his own arousal clear in his gaze. He watched her with a mix of amazement and need.

"Spencer," she moaned, her voice a desperate whine. "I need your knot. I want to carry your child." The words seemed to hang in the air, a declaration of her deepest desires. She knew it was risky, that they weren't ready for a child, but the heat had taken control of her body, her mind.

Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his pupils dilating with the realization of what she was asking. The words hung in the air, a declaration of the deepest kind of bonding. Despite the urgency of her heat, the implications of her words hit him like a sledgehammer. He knew the risks, the responsibility that came with it, but the raw, primal need to claim her, to fill her with his seed, was stronger than his reservations.

For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing. Y/N was on birth control shots, a fact he had overheard in one of her casual conversations with JJ, Emily, and Garcia. But the thought of her round with his pup, their child growing inside her, was too tempting to resist. The idea of her carrying his offspring, of them starting a family, was more than he could ever have hoped for.

With a snarl of need, Spencer gave into the fantasy, his hips bucking up to meet hers The idea of her carrying his pup was too tempting to ignore. He could almost feel the warmth of a new life growing inside her, the bond that would tie them together forever.

"Spencer," Y/N begged, her walls tightening around him. "Knot me, please."

Spencer knew that he couldn't actually get her pregnant at this moment, but the desperation in her voice, the way she pleaded for him, it was too much to resist. He leaned back, allowing her to take control of their rhythm, her hips moving with an animalistic grace that had him growling. The beginnings of his knot was just visible, and she slammed down onto him, her body hungry for the fullness it promised.

He watched as the base of his cock began to swell, the tip of his knot just breaching her entrance. Y/N's eyes went wide, and she threw her head back. The sensation was addicting, the feeling of being filled so completely.

Spencer's knot grew thicker, stretching her to the limits of her ability. She could feel her pussy clench around it, trying to draw him deeper. Her slick was leaking onto his pelvis, the silky feeling of it helping his cock glide in and out of her with ease. Her movements grew erratic, her hips moving with a wild abandon that had them both moaning.

"Fuck me, Spencer," she panted, her eyes glazed over with need. "Breed me, fill me with your cum. I want to feel you knot me, I want to carry your pup." Spencer's eyes widened, his breath hitching at the graphic words spilling from her lips.

The thought of her tight pussy taking his knot was driving him wild. He could feel the swell of his cock, the beginnings of his own orgasm building. "You want to be bred, don't you?" He watched her nod, her eyes never leaving his. "You want me to fill you up, to claim you as mine?"

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words as she felt the pressure of his knot against her pussy. "Yes," she moaned, her voice breathless. "I want it, Spencer. I need it."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, his teeth bared in a feral smile. "You're going to take all of me," he growled, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Every inch, until you're screaming for more."

Y/N's eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown wide with desire. She reached down, her fingers slipping through her slick folds to find her clit. The first touch sent a shockwave through her body, and she gasped, her hips jolting. Spencer watched with rapt attention as she began to rub herself in time with her movements, her fingers circling the sensitive bud with increasing speed.

Her walls began to pulse around his cock, the tightness growing with each pass of her fingers. She was close, so close, and Spencer could feel it. The sight of her touching herself, her need for release, was almost more than he could handle.

With a snarl, Spencer's hips shot up, slamming her down onto his cock, forcing his knot into her tight pussy. Y/N's eyes went wide with pleasure, her mouth forming a silent 'O' of surprise. The pressure was intense, but she didn't fight it. Instead, she leaned into it, her body begging for more.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, the sensation of his knot filling her pushing her over the edge. Her pussy clenched around him, the muscles tightening in a vice-like grip that had him groaning. Spencer could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, her juices spilling out around his knot as she came.

Y/N's nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Spencer's cock throbbed with each spurt of cum. He could feel the heat of it, the pressure in his balls as they tightened and drew up.

"Oh, Spencer," she moaned, her voice a sultry whisper. "I feel so full." Her pussy pulsed around his knot, her walls clenching as she continued to milk him for every drop of cum. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his hips jerking involuntarily as he emptied himself into her.

Y/N's hands moved to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Your knot," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "It's so big, so perfect." Her hips rocked against him, her body desperate for more friction, more pleasure.

Spencer watched her with a fierce possessiveness, his hand moving to rest on her flat stomach. "Imagine it," he said, his voice low and thick with desire. "Imagine me filling you with my pup." The thought was overwhelming, the idea of her carrying his child, a part of him inside her forever.

Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his hand on her skin. She could almost feel the phantom warmth of a growing pup, a symbol of their bond, their love. "I want that, Delta," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I want to carry your pup."

Spencer's gaze grew soft, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "And I want that too," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her stomach in a tender caress. The thought of her carrying his child was so potent, so powerful, that it made his chest ache.

Y/N leaned down, her breasts pressing into his chest as she kissed him softly. Her breath was hot and sweet against his skin, and he could feel the tremors of her aftershocks running through her body. The scent of their mating was thick in the air, a heady aroma that seemed to cocoon them in their own private world.

With a contented sigh, she lowered herself onto him, her body slick with sweat and desire. Spencer's cock remained buried deep within her, his knot still swollen. The pressure was delicious, a constant reminder of their union. She nuzzled into his neck, her purrs of pleasure vibrating against his skin.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as he stroked her back. His fingertips traced patterns across her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Y/N's eyes closed, her body going limp with satisfaction. She could feel the warmth of his body seeping into her, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

Her mind was a haze of contentment, the fiery passion of her heat leaving her feeling like she was floating on a cloud. She was fully claimed by Spencer, his knot still nestled inside her, a constant reminder of their mating. The sensation was oddly comforting, a bond that went deeper than any words could ever express.

Y/N's body was boneless, her muscles relaxed to the point of near paralysis. Each breath she took was filled with Spencer's scent, his warmth enveloping her like a cozy blanket on a cold winter's night. Her mind was a haze of contentment, the intensity of her heat mellowing into a gentle buzz of satisfaction. The world around her was a soft, fuzzy blur, the only sharpness coming from the occasional twinge of pleasure as his knot shifted within her.

The stroking of Spencer's hand on her back grew slower, the gentle circles lulling her closer and closer to the edge of sleep. Her eyes grew heavy, her eyelids fluttering shut as she gave in to the comfort he offered. The feeling of his seed filling her was strange and exhilarating.

Her breathing grew even, matching the rhythm of his hand, as she drifted off into a doze. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, not just from the aftermath of their mating, but from the love she felt for Spencer. It was a feeling she hadn't known existed before this moment, but now it seemed to envelop her entirely.

Spencer's mind, however, remained active. As she fell asleep in his arms, he found his thoughts wandering to the practicalities of the morning. He knew that her heat would last for a few more days, and he had to ensure she was comfortable and safe. The urge to keep her close was strong, but he had to balance that with his responsibilities.

With a sigh, he realized that he would have to call Hotch in the morning. He knew the conversation wouldn't be easy, but as he looked down at Y/N, he found that he wasn't worried. The bond between them was strong, a truth that transcended the constraints of their professional lives.

Spencer felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He knew that he had made the right choice in claiming her, regardless of the potential repercussions. The connection they shared was more than just physical; it was a meeting of minds and hearts that had been building up since the first day.

He looked down at her peaceful face, the soft glow of the moonlight highlighting her features. Her long eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, her breathing even and content. Spencer knew that what they had just shared was more than just the animalistic mating driven by her heat cycle. It was a declaration of something deeper, something that had been simmering between them for a long time.

Whatever the future held, Spencer was certain that they would face it together. The thought brought a warmth to his chest that was more potent than the post-orgasmic bliss. He knew that their bond was unbreakable, forged in the heat of passion and sealed with the promise of a future filled with love and a family of their own.

With that thought giving him comfort, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. His hand remained on her back, his fingers idly tracing patterns that she would never feel in her sleep. Yet, it was a silent promise that he was there, that he would always be there for her.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, unhealthy/abusive households (dottore--locked in closet, mistreatment/verbal abuse | reader--implied toxic stepfather & equally toxic mother who constantly believes him over reader, the slap scene from prev chapter), minor character deaths.

notes: the segment sheet is DONE, this was a rlly fun chapter to write! i enjoyed exploring both of their backgrounds ehehe

THE FAMILY JEWELS

Dottore did not dream. 

He used to dream before he was forced to abandon his original body but even then dreams were sparse and short. If he was lucky, sometimes he dreamt of answers--his mind always on his research even while resting. If he was unlucky, he would dream of fire, red and orange and yellow flames too close to his eyes; he would dream of the day he had received the scars that marred half of his face and his hands. 

But now he was sitting in an unfamiliar home, reminiscent of the estate in northern Fontaine where the Delta segment was focusing on his research. It had to be a dream. He remembered laying down in his bed, he remembered feeling his soulmate’s exhaustion. He had been back in his estate in northern Snezhnaya and now he was here.

It had to be a dream but Dottore didn’t dream so it must be something else.

But what?

He didn’t have time to dwell on the issue, he found himself moving, standing up from wherever he had been sitting and confusion began to itch at him, realizing that something was wrong. He was shorter--stood barely taller than the couch he had been sitting on--and he had no control over his actions. 

He tried to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass of an ebony cabinet that seemed to be storing some sort of antiques but he couldn’t make out his features. His features? Something felt wrong. His hands moved down on their own, smoothing down the cloth draped across his body--loose fitting, softer than anything he owned, it only reached his knees. 

A dress?

There was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest--excitement but it wasn’t his own. He was pacing back and forth and as he turned on his foot for the fifth time, he caught his reflection in the mirror: bright eyes glowing with anticipation, a wide smile. It was a girl, a young one at that--no older than seven. Something warm and heavy stirred, this was of his own.

This was her. His soulmate. He knew it.

Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to wake himself up. He tried searching for something to read, he tried yelling, he tried blinking repeatedly--tactics that he had used all of those years ago when he found himself dreaming of the unpleasant years he spent back in his village but none of them were successful this time. His body wouldn’t cooperate… or he supposed it was her body, not his.

This was not ideal, he thought to himself as she continued to pace around. He had somehow managed to let himself get attached to the faceless being on the opposite side of the thread, however minimally that attachment may have been, he did not want to put a face to them because he did not want to risk this attachment becoming any stronger. He had to focus on severing the thread, freeing them both of the shackles that this bond placed on them. 

There wasn’t much he could do, he realized. There were no tricks that he could use to wake himself up, he just had to wait this out, watch whatever was going on from behind the eyes of his soulmate. Exasperated, he resigned himself to his fate, instead trying to make the most of the situation and figure out where exactly she might be.

Not to find her, he told himself. 

Or, it was to find her, he corrected, but only so that he could send Lambda off to keep an eye on her. He was the only one that Dottore could trust to make sure that she stayed alive without forming any sort of attachment to her and without even making himself known to her. All of the others would take advantage of the opportunity but Lambda would do what was necessary--he was livid enough over this whole situation and how it has been affecting their research. He would make sure that their soulmate stayed alive and unharmed long enough for Dottore to figure out how to sever the thread. 

“Moooother,” the words left his lips, but the voice was young and happy, a soft singsong of a call that trailed into a gentle giggle. Innocent, sweet, untainted. “I’ve been waiting forever.” 

Dottore felt another emotion that was not his own, this one more familiar to him--a growing anxiety, a creeping sense of doubt as the girl began to look around. He could feel her lips twisting into a frown, the excitement dying as she left the room to go look up and down the halls. Dottore tried to push away her growing distress, instead focusing on the windows that she was passing by as she ran up and down the halls. 

Rolling hills in the distance, snow dusting the thick grass, the skies were clear and there weren’t many trees in sight. Dottore’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, it was very reminiscent of the labs he had set up on the Fontaine border. 

Was she from the Fontaine countryside?

He would call Lambda back from Sumeru to send him to check it out, and order Delta to take his place in Sumeru with Theta. Theta would be livid but Dottore didn’t particularly care about how Theta felt. He had only barely been able to replicate all of the lost research before the deadline Dottore had set for him and Dottore had a feeling that Lambda had done the majority of the work because he had been furious over his research being interrupted. 

Unfortunately for him, it would be interrupted again. 

But where in the Fontaine countryside? Dottore tried to figure it out, irritation growing as she came to a stop in one of the hallways, no window in sight. It had to be somewhere in central or eastern Fontaine--if it were western Fontaine, there would be no snow powdered across the grass, the heat from Sumeru and Natlan melting it before it even touched the earth.

Northeastern Fontaine or north-central Fontaine. It would be easier if he could sic Rho on the job. He would be able to track her down with a general location--they’d have her whereabouts in a matter of a week… but he couldn’t trust Rho to not tell the Gamma segment, and if the Gamma segment knew, he would tell the Iota segment, and the Iota segment finding out was how this whole mess started in the first place. 

“Miss Elyna!” she called and Dottore was moving--or she was, he corrected again--this time down a new hall, lips tugging down into a pout as she tugged down a cloak from a hook. Dottore winced as she pulled too hard, tumbling down to the ground. He could feel the hardwood floors scraping against her elbows. It hurt more than it should’ve, he had gone through worse but he supposed he was feeling what she was feeling, severity and all. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes when he felt her eyes water up, sniffling. 

“They left me,” she said to herself, voice wobbly as she pushed herself to her feet and pulled on the cloak. It was too big for her, dragging against the floor as she made her way to the door. 

Pleased, Dottore realized she was going to go outside, which would give him a better chance of figuring out where along the Fontaine countryside she was living. As soon as she pushed open the door, brisk air met his face. Her nose wrinkled, drawing her hands up into the sleeves of her cloak as she began to make her way out of the house.

The town seemed to be up a rather large hill, a mile or so away from where the estate was situated. She was of noble birth, that much was obvious, only the aristocrats of Fontaine could afford such a large estate with that much property. 

Dottore frowned as he caught something in the distance--dark clouds rolling over the town that she was making her way to, too fast to be just the average storm. Even further in the distance was a sight he could barely make out: a mountain range, large, ragged peaks that were very, very familiar. 

Dottore felt uncomfortable. Again. The storm was not of a natural cause--it was one of the harsh winter blizzards that should have buried Snezhnaya’s capital city, deflected by the Tsaritsa to batter Fontaine instead. His soulmate remained blissfully ignorant of the coming danger, bounding up the hill in the direction of the village, at a pace too slow to beat the imminent storm. He could feel the air around them getting colder, the wind picking up. He could feel the first snowflake sting her cheek, bitter and sharp.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach--he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. It was hers, he realized, because she was now looking around nervously, realizing that the storm was about to come down on her and she was too far from the estate to make it back there and she was too far from the town to make it to one of the houses on the outskirts. 

Snezhnayan blizzards were dangerous. They never lasted for too long, especially the ones that were deflected to the south, but they came on fast and they were harsh--the winds were wicked and the snow came down half as ice. 

“Mother!” she called, voice loud, and panicked. Dottore’s heart was racing--or he supposed it was hers, now that the severity of the situation was finally beginning to set in on her. “Mother!”

Fool, he thought to himself, you’re going to fall. His chest felt tight--this was his own, not hers, he recognized--as instead of trying to run back to the estate, she kept going up the large hill, intent on finding her parents rather than trying to get back to safety.

Just as he expected, it only took one strong wind for the girl to trip over the too-long cloak and go tumbling down the hill. She was shrieking but the wind was drowning her cries and Dottore couldn’t do anything but watch, watch through her eyes as she tumbled down the hill, nails clawing against the dirt as she tried to slow the fall. 

Dottore did not do well with these sorts of movements. He felt woozy, light-headed--or maybe it was her feeling it, or maybe it was both of them, Dottore really couldn’t tell. By the time she came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she could barely even stand up. The wind sent her tumbling down each time she tried to rise, and the snow was coming down hard, whipping around her so that she could barely even see a few steps in front of her and Dottore was suddenly back in northern Snezhnaya, four hundred years prior.

Beta, Dottore thought to himself and he felt sick and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness or because of the reminder of his first segment and its destruction. He willed himself to wake up to no avail, and he couldn’t even shut his eyes because he was forced to watch through hers as she tumbled to the ground over and over again, trying to make her way blindly through the storm. 

You’re going to get yourself lost, Dottore wanted to spit out, livid, stop moving. But his soulmate was terrified and frenzied, shrieking even though no one could hear her, sobbing for her mother, trying to cover her face with her cloak but she kept getting knocked to the ground, taking facefuls of mud and snow. It was hard to remember that it was the past--that this had already happened years ago as he lived through it himself through her, as he felt her fear and her pain and her panic.

He hated this. 

He hated the lack of control. He hated being forced into this situation. He hated having no choice in what was going on. 

He hated having a soulmate

And he hated even more that there was the chance that she was also dreaming of his past and he had no way of knowing what she could be seeing.

You were sitting by a window. You blinked, brows furrowing softly as you tried to figure out what had happened and how you had got there. The room was unfamiliar--the furniture was a pale wood instead of the ebony dressers that decorated your room and it was small, it seemed to be some sort of living room but it was barely even the size of your bedroom.

You wanted to stand up but you couldn’t and you weren’t entirely sure why. You frowned, trying to push yourself off the windowsill you were sitting at but your body wouldn’t cooperate, locked in place. You felt a bit panicked over it but you couldn’t feel panicked, you didn’t know how to describe it. It was a muted feeling, suppressed--what was more intense was the odd sense of longing tugging at your gut, the weight heavy on your chest. 

Your gaze moved on its own from inside the house to back out the window. You couldn’t help but notice how the window was bolted from the outside--less like trying to keep people out of the house and more like trying to keep someone in. You felt uncomfortable suddenly, but again, it was a muted feeling, one that you couldn’t seem to feel strongly no matter how much you felt like you should.

There were kids outside, across the dirt street, lounging in the lush grass. They were smiling, happy, making the same motions you would when you pulled at your string and you felt even more alone, sad--you felt sad and you didn’t even know why.

You looked away, down to your lap, and then you felt confused because you realized, slowly, that you were not in your own body. You were wearing a pair of loose shorts--a thick rough material that felt icky against your skin, you were used to the soft silks and cottons that you usually wore. Your legs were stick thin, the bones protruding through the skin. Your knees and shins were bruised and scratched up and your hands were small but rough and calloused.

What…?

“Zandik,” you heard an unfamiliar voice call. Your head turned, but you weren’t controlling it. Again, you felt alarmed, and again, you couldn’t really feel alarmed. Instead, there was an anxiety pooling, one that you weren’t in charge of. You looked to the side--a woman was standing there, tall with pale blue eyes and dark hair. “Why are you watching them?”

“You never let me go outside,” The words were leaving your lips but the voice was not your own, it was that of a boy--a young one at that--quiet and vulnerable, loneliness echoing in his tone. “Why can’t I go outside? I want to explore. The other kids go exploring all the time, I see them.”

“Zandik, come away from there,” the woman ignored his pleas, pressed together tight as she watched him--you? you thought to yourself, confused at the whole situation. “You’re going to make them uncomfortable. We don’t need more rumors going around.”

“I want to go outside and explore,” the boy was adamant, his words edging on desperate. “I hate being stuck in here all day, I want to go out. I want to explore. Why don’t you let me out?” 

“You know why, Zandik,” the woman had not one ounce of sympathy for the boy and the hurt that you might have felt personally at the harshness, he felt tenfold. You could feel yourself sniffling--he was sniffling, you corrected, his lip wobbling and his vision going blurry. 

“I don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking, the telltale sign of a meltdown in most kids but he seemed to be controlling himself, somehow. You had never seen a kid mature enough to hold back their tears and wails. “I don’t get it, you keep telling me they don’t want me outside because of my soulmate but that’s not fair. I’ll get my mark soon, why are they being so mean? I just want to go out and explore.”

Oh, you realized suddenly as you finally began to feel tears track down your cheeks and as the boy finally let himself cry. This was your soulmate when they were younger. 

You had heard rumors of this, you read about it in some of the books in the palace’s libraries. There were certain half-stages or rare effects of the bond that soulmates could experience, some called them mutations, others called them extra blessings. There were rumors of people not being able to see certain colors until they met their soulmates, rumors that some had two different eye colors--one of their own and the other to match their soulmates, and then there were dreams. Dreams were a frequent mutation, be it seeing each other’s past through the dreams or it being a shared space for them to talk to each other in. 

You assumed this was the former. 

And suddenly you were angry. The woman, who must be his mother or caretaker, was watching him coldly even as he cried. She made no attempt to console him, no attempt to calm him down or reassure him, not even a single word or action of comfort. She watched him cry with empty eyes, unmoved by the tears. It was hard to only be able to watch--you wanted to scream at the woman, you wanted to slap her, you wanted to comfort the crying boy, but all you could do was watch it happen from his eyes, feel his distress.

“It has been over five years Zandik,” the woman said, tone void of any sort of empathy for him. “No one has gone this long without receiving their mark. It is a bad omen for the village, you are a bad omen--they say the divine have cursed you. They do not want you around and if you continue testing your father’s patience, he will stop advocating for more time with the village elders. Do you understand?” 

He was crying, hard, and you could feel him shaking his head. “I don’t understand. I do-”

The glass behind you shattered and the boy didn’t have any time to react before a rock flew past him into their house, shards of glass cutting through the skin of his cheek and his arm--shallow cuts, but you could feel the warm, thick liquid dripping down his cheek. He had stopped crying suddenly, stunned by the sudden pain and the loud sound of the glass breaking. 

The woman was staring down at the rock in the middle of their small living room, making no move to get a wet rag to help Zandik clean up. You could hear the kids laughing as they ran away--evil little demons, you thought to yourself, personally aggrieved by the situation.

“What was that noise?” 

A new voice--male, deep, and Zandik was forced out of the state of shock, heart-racing and nerves returning, this time way more intense as he looked at the woman, “Moth-” he began, voice dripping with anxiety but he didn’t even have time to finish the word before a man had made his way into the room. 

He was tall, taller than your father was with wavy blue, fair skin and sharp red eyes. He was intimidating, you weren’t even really there and you could feel your nerves beginning to heighten… or maybe it was just Zandik’s emotions forcing themselves onto you, you couldn’t tell at this point. But the man, his father, was livid, his lips were twisting in an ugly sort of fury as he stared at the broken window.

You thought he would storm outside, yell at the kids who had thrown the rock into their home and hurt his son but instead, he was moving toward Zandik. Your stomach dropped as you felt yourself--him--trying to scramble away, unintelligible, panicked babbles spilling from his lips but his father’s legs were longer, strides too big for him to escape. 

He leaned down, a large hand wrapping around Zandik’s thin bicep and you winced at the bruising grip he had on him as he yanked him to his feet so hard that the boy went stumbling. “How many times do I have to tell you-” his father started to spit out, cutting himself off as he dragged Zandik through the small room and toward the hall. 

“Zakai,” his mother began, following Zandik and his father, exasperated and maybe even a bit nervous.

“Stay out of this,” his father said roughly, turning down another, smaller hall that led to a single door at the end of it. 

“No,” Zandik was panicking, desperately trying to rip himself out of his father’s grip. “No, I don’t want to go in the dark room. I don't want to go in there.”

He went ignored, flinching as his father yanked open the door and a sharp pain flew up your back as he pushed Zandik into the room--the closet, you corrected, horrified. It was a small space with no windows and barely enough room to sit comfortably, and his back hit the wall hard before he crumbled to the ground.

“This is for your own good,” his father told him. “It’s hard enough convincing them to let you remain in the village as it is. If you continue to give them reasons to want you gone, I’ll have no choice but to concede.” 

“I didn’t even do anything,” Zandik choked over his words, you could barely make out his father’s face now from how much his vision was blurred with tears. “I was just sitting there.”

“They don’t even want to look at you, boy,” his father hissed, grabbing Zandik’s cheeks and squeezing them together hard. “They see you a monster, do you understand? The same type that rose from the damned lands and razed our villages  to the ground--those cursed people had no mark either, you know? Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Are you? Answer me!”

“I’m not!” Zandik shouted, pulling his face from his father’s hands. “I’m not!”

“Then prove it,” his father snapped before slamming the door in his face, drowning the small, enclosed room in darkness and leaving Zandik in there alone. 

In an instant, the scene warped--another dizzying sensation that had Dottore sick to his stomach. Gone was the ferocious wind and the snow pummeling his soulmate’s small body, gone was the panic and the fear. Instead, it was replaced with beams of sun warm against his face, a bubbling excitement that was overwhelming any sort of irritation he might have had. 

She was older now. He caught sight of her reflection through the window that she was running past--still young but probably closer in age to the Iota or Gamma segment. She looked happy, she felt happy. It was a far cry from what she had been feeling before and it was giving Dottore whiplash as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on. 

She was clutching something to her chest--a flower, purple hydrangea--and there was a hop in her step. From what he could tell, she was making her way to her family’s estate from the town. There was nothing in her field of vision that could give him any hints as to narrow down where she might be.

But it was warmer, and he remembered how the mountain range encasing Snezhnaya’s capital had been visible in the distance when she had been walking to the town. It had to be a town along the Snezhnayan border--central Fontaine, most likely, considering the positioning of the mountain range and the warm weather. Central and western Fontaine frequently dealt with waves of heat drawn in by Sumeru’s desert and Natlan’s fields of magma while northeastern Fontaine rarely ever got warm, surrounded by the mountain ranges of eastern Snezhnaya and northern Mondstadt on both sides, it was pretty much a pool of cold air… and he couldn’t see any mountain ranges to the south, so it had to be central Fontaine.

But central Fontaine was large and he had no way of knowing where exactly the town could be. It was somewhere up by the Snezhnayan border in the western sector of central Fontaine, yes, but dozens of towns could match that description, more than that even. Fontaine was littered with small towns in its countryside, even without adding in the city’s population, Fontaine was the most populous of the seven nations. 

Lambda’s issue, Dottore told himself as she finally got to the front doors of her family estate, pushing it open and stepping inside. He had more important things to worry about than her location, he had narrowed it down far enough that Lambda would be able to figure it out.

“Mother!” she called loudly, making her way down the halls. Dottore could feel how happy she was--it was strange. He had felt her happy a million times before but now it was as if he were feeling it himself. It wasn’t that distinct muted feeling he had learned to decipher from his own and locked away. It felt like it was his, it felt like he was happy and he wasn’t sure he had ever felt like that before.

He didn’t like it. He felt warm, at home in a way that he usually only did in his labs and even though he knew, realistically, that these were not feelings of his own, he didn’t like the way it was affecting him. 

“Moooother,” his soulmate repeated, louder this time, but it lacked the singsong lilt it had years prior before the storm. “Moth-”

“What is it?” an unfamiliar voice asked, sharp and cold, interrupting her call. Dottore felt the change in mood instantly, the giddiness replaced by hurt, smile fading for just a second, and Dottore felt livid, murderous, but even that was displaced because he was feeling her own emotions more strongly than his own. 

His soulmate turned to face the other direction, where walking down the side hall toward her was a taller woman that looked just like her, although her eyes were sharper and her lips were pulled down. 

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and Dottore could tell that she was bothered by the woman--who he assumed was her mother--and her coldness. 

Despite the discomfort, she still managed to smile again, “I made a friend down in town,” she said, excited. “His family owns the flower shop. He gave me a flower.”

Irritation pricked at the back of his mind, he pushed it away.

“That’s nice,” she did not sound interested. He could feel his soulmate’s smile falter again--the irritation grew, developing into subtle anger. “You were supposed to be back for lunch.”

“He was really nice,” his soulmate continued, perturbed but trying not to let it show. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes, he had no desire to hear about a childhood crush. “And guess what? You’ll never believe it! His soulmate, she’s up in the north too.”

Dottore felt her mother’s change in demeanor instantly. His soulmate remained oblivious, giddy, and excited. He didn’t have to look in the reflection to know that her eyes were shining and her smile was wide, he could practically picture it on his own. He felt tight, having a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

“How do you know that?” her mother asked, icy. 

Blissfully ignorant, his soulmate looked down at the flower she was holding tight to her chest. “We talked about it, he said he was going to go north to find her one day and I asked to come with and-”

Her head snapped to the side, hard, and a painful, stinging sensation spread across Dottore’s face. At once, Dottore felt a wave of emotions all at once--only one was his own and that was rage, rage at being slapped, at her being slapped--but more predominantly, he could feel her shock and he could feel her distress. He was reminded of the day all of those years ago when he had gone to meet Pantalone for the first time when he had been cut off mid-sentence by a slap on her end. 

Her mother grabbed her face hard, squeezing her cheeks together, and Dottore was livid--he wanted to rip his face out of her grip, grab her by the throat, and force her off but he couldn’t, he couldn’t control anything because he was stuck in his soulmate’s body, watching it all happen from behind her eyes. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if he was angry because it felt as if he had been the one slapped, or if he was angry that she had been slapped.

“How many times must I tell you?” her mother spit out. “No one can know. No one, you and I, your father and Miss Elyna, they’re the only ones to know of your thread. To everyone else, you have no soulmate. How many times must I tell you?”

Dottore was taken aback. So taken aback, that he didn’t even register his soulmate’s response—something along the lines of a stuttered ‘but he was nice, I trust him’, but it only infuriated her mother even more.

To everyone else, you have no soulmate. 

Why? 

Were they able to figure out who he was through the words? No. That wasn’t possible, this was right after the beginning of the second stage. She hadn’t received any words from him at this point. 

Then it had to be something else. His location? Was Fontaine so anti-Snezhnaya already? 

They had expected it considering their archon’s stance on Celestia but how was it even possible? The Hydro Archon should have no way of knowing the plans of the Fatui but Dottore wasn’t sure what else would turn the deity against them like that.

… unless there was a spy. But even then, they should know that if that was the case, Arlecchino had implanted one of her spiders into Fontaine’s court.

Dottore was frustrated as he was forcibly ripped from his thoughts, drawn back into the situation at hand. Her mother was still going on, and his soulmate was still quiet, but she was crying now, silent tears spilling over her cheeks.

“… and your stepfather was right. Ever since he came into our lives, ever since the twins were born, you have taken every chance to act out or put our family at risk. Getting yourself lost in that storm after you told him you didn’t want to join us in town, refusing to show up for your siblings’ birthday, constantly talking back, and now this-”

“It’s not true,” she hiccuped, trying to pull away from her mother only to fail. “I wanted to go to their birthday, he never told me where it was, and I wanted to go to the town but he left me, and-”

“Enough!” her mother shouted and his soulmate flinched. “The lying is getting out of hand, all of this is getting out of hand. Do you understand how much risk you just put our family in? Your siblings?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I will handle this,” her mother spit out, voice dripping with venom, “but this is the last time. The next time you act out of line, you will be living with your father indefinitely.” 

She left her standing there, alone, and the happiness from before was gone, leaving her as cold and empty as Dottore felt normally. Her flower lay limp at her feet, and she made no move to pick it up. 

Dottore didn’t like it.

She didn’t move for a long time, not until another figure came into the room—another woman, with dark hair and kind gray eyes, who let out a sigh when she saw her standing there alone, tears still tracking down her face.

“She doesn’t mean it, little one,” the older woman sighed, patting his soulmate’s head gently as she kneeled to pick up her flower, placing it back in her hands. “She loves you, she’s just scared.”

Dottore wasn’t so sure about that. Resentful and angry, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt such a visceral desire to kill since his days as a Fatui recruit when he was volatile and ready to snap at any given moment. He hated how a person he didn’t even know managed to draw out all of the worst aspects of himself, the aspects that he had killed and carefully tucked away a very long time ago.

“I don’t understand,” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I hate it here. She’s so mean, and she always believes him over me, and he hates me because of father, and he’s always trying to leave me out and he tells her that it’s my fault, and she believes him.”

“Love is blind,” the woman murmured softly. Dottore wished he could roll his eyes. “Your mother never thought she’d find her soulmate… now that she has-”

“It’s not fair,” his soulmate interrupted, shaking her head and turning to face the woman. “Miss Elyna, he’s a liar. He’s a liar and he hates me. I didn’t even do anything wrong. And I have no friends because of my stupid soulmate and I finally make a friend and I’m not allowed to, and I always get in trouble when I don’t even do anything. I want to live with father. I hate it here.”

Dottore thought he should be offended--stupid soulmate, he thought to himself, irritated, but he couldn’t be offended because he was intrigued, trying to piece together what exactly she meant by the fact that she had no friends because of him. He was clueless as to Fontaine’s stance on those that never received a mark… and if that was the issue and she had to pretend she didn’t have one…

“You cannot go live with your father,” the woman, Elyna, sighed. “You are bad enough at hiding your bond here in the countryside, your father is still living in the city. You will have all eyes of the court on you once you’re there, and if you slip up once…”

Confirmation that it was Fontaine, he already knew it but it was good to have it confirmed—only Snezhnaya and Fontaine had courts. 

“It’s not fair,” she was melting down, shrieking. Dottore could barely even see through her eyes because they were blurred with big tears. “It’s not fair, I don’t want to hide it. I don’t want to. Do you know how mean people are because they think I don’t have a soulmate? They call me cursed, they say Celestia rejected me.” 

“Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Answer me!”

Dottore felt cold but more than that, he felt something heavy in his chest. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t want to know, so as always, he pushed it away. Instead, he found humor in the situation because he thought it was all ironic—he was persecuted for not having a soulmate, and she had to pretend she didn’t have one to avoid persecution. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he spat at Celestia’s wicked sense of humor. 

“… hate me either way, so I might as well-”

“Enough,” Elyna hissed. “You can’t speak like that. It is not a matter of hate, it’s a matter of freedom and imprisonment, life and death. Your father sent a letter warning your mother that Her Excellency was becoming even more extreme in her position on Snezhnaya, you have to be careful.” 

There had to be a spy, Dottore realized. Someone leaking information from the higher levels of the Fatui to other nations—this had to have been nearly a decade ago. How had they gone so long without knowing?

He would have to bring it up to Pantalone, he would be able to work with Pulcinella and Arlecchino to weed out the rat.

“He lies to her,” his soulmate cried harder after being scolded. Elyna wrapped her arms around her and Dottore felt uncomfortable, claustrophobic. He wanted to yank away but his soulmate appeared to have no intention of doing that. “Who lies to their soulmate? If he loved her, he would love me. I didn’t do anything wrong, I was nice to him.”

“Hush now,” Elyna said gently. “You-”

“No, it’s not fair. None of this is fair. Soulmates are supposed to be good and he’s not. He ruined my life, and my soulmate is ruining my life, and none of it is fair. I have no friends, I just want friends, and now mother is going to ruin that too. And if father cared about me, he’d want me to live with him but instead, he makes me live here with them.”

“It’s safer-”

“I don’t care,” she shouted.

My soulmate is ruining my life, he echoed in his head. 

Bitterly, he thought, well that goes for both of us but at the same time, that heavy feeling returned and this time, he couldn’t bring himself to push it away. 

You were running. He was running. Your heart was racing, beating outside your chest as you slammed into a tree, stumbling past it to continue in whatever direction you were running in. It was so hot, it felt like the air around you was suffocating you; it felt like your mouth was stuffed with cotton. You couldn’t tell what was going on--you felt panicked, frantic, as if you were fighting for your life against an invisible enemy.

Invisible. 

As soon as the word crossed your mind, an explosion rocked the earth beneath you, sending you flying ten feet forward, slipping on wet, mossy rocks, and rolling down a steep hill. You hurt, your whole body ached, branches dug into your skin, rocks scraped against your face--ordinarily, you would have given up, the pain too much for you to handle, but somehow he kept going. 

You felt him push himself to his feet, you could feel blood tracking down his arm and the side of his face, but he didn’t cry nor did he falter. Wheezing for air and eyes wide and wild, he continued.

Something large was behind him, large and metal with a glowing orange and gold orb in the center of its head--a ruin guard, you realized, horrified. You had heard there were a lot in southern Fontaine, on Sumeru’s border, but they couldn’t traverse the mountain ranges and vast rivers and lakes that littered central Fontaine, freeing the north of their destruction. 

But you had studied them. You had studied ruin machines for a long, long time once you began receiving words from your soulmate and had access to the palace’s extensive library. You received odd words like chaos cores and circuits and bolts and oculi that you learned were associated with the old, destructive technology. There wasn’t much information on them and you thought that in itself was telling. The Hydro Archon censored any material that could be interpreted as fostering dissent against her rule, or the heavens, expunging the history that she didn’t like. 

You wondered what exactly was it about the ruin guards that she wanted to prevent the masses from learning.

Zandik gasped as the ground beneath him trembled again--the ruin guard had caught up already, heavy steps tracking after him. You could hear a whirring noise behind him and you knew it was going to let out another blast of energy in his direction. Your throat felt swollen with anxiety, or you supposed that was his anxiety, but he was focused ahead. You could see a village in the distance, in a small clearing of the dense forest he was running through.

He didn’t cry for help, he didn’t scream, and you remembered the last dream of his life. You wondered if he didn’t call for help because he knew no one would answer and you felt sick. 

The explosion didn’t hit close to him this time, veering off into a tree, and Zandik spared a glance behind him to see the ruin guard falter as it skidded on wet rocks, the same ones that Zandik had slipped down. He let out a shaky breath and you could feel his relief as he made a break for the village. 

The ruin guard did not stray too far behind. 

When he got to the village, the people were oblivious. Some spared him looks, mostly of irritation and distaste, but most ignored his presence. 

Zandik made no effort to warn them of the imminent danger and a part of you hesitated, uncomfortable, a foreboding feeling bearing down on you as you realized what might be about to happen. 

He kept sprinting through the small village, past a small bakery, and right through a crowd of people who cursed him for his interruption. He was running somewhere specifically, or to someone, you realized as he set his eyes on a woman you recognized from before: his mother. 

She looked angry but more than that, she seemed distressed, grabbing Zandik’s forearms as he nearly crashed into her at full speed.

“Where have you been? Your father and I-”

“We have to go inside,” Zandik said, voice little over a wheeze. “We have to-”

He didn’t have a chance to give any further explanation because at once, there was a massive explosion, one that shook the ground beneath the entire town as the ruin guard finally set its target on the villagers. 

Zandik turned his head, eyes wide, and you wished he would look away because you felt sick to your stomach at the gory scene before you. The blood, the fire, the screaming--every single one of your senses felt overwhelmed as catastrophe met the peaceful town, ravaging the unexpecting villagers.

But as much as you felt sick, you realized, slowly, that Zandik did not feel that same horror that you did. You wondered if he was in shock… you wondered if it were something else. He stared in the direction of the destruction, lips parted, unable to draw his gaze from the ruin guard as it prepared itself for another attack, energy swirling around the orange and gold orb. People were running, calling desperately for family members and friends, trying to hide behind houses and wells to escape the onslaught. There was blood. There was so much blood and so much death, and it was readying to attack again.

But he felt no guilt. No fear. No shame.

There was only satisfaction… awe. It was subtle, bubbling beneath the surface, but it churned your stomach. You told yourself that you didn’t know the whole story, that you didn’t know the extent to which the villagers had put him through hell--you hadn’t even scratched the surface with that previous event in his life you had dreamed of but-

“Zandik, Zandik,” it was his mother screaming, tearing him from his trance as he watched the ruin guard and forcing you from your thoughts. She was shaking him violently, fear stretched across her face. “What happened? What did you do? What did you do, Zandik?” 

“It followed me,” his voice sounded hollow, void of any sort of emotion. “I went exploring.”

“You brought it back here?” his mother was on the verge of tears and Zandik remained unmoved, standing there limp as she continued to rattle him around. “You stupid boy, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill you.” 

“Not if it kills them first,” you wondered if he intended to say that because you felt a jolt of surprise that was not your own. 

His mother stared at him, horrified, but she jolted as a figure grabbed her arm.

His father.

There was an unreadable expression on his face. “Inside,” he said, voice brusque and cold. He grabbed Zandik by the arm, dragging him inside after his mother and slamming the door behind them. 

He felt empty. You didn’t like it. It made you uncomfortable, it made you sad. You didn’t think anyone should feel like this, much less your soulmate. Even as his father let go of his arm, Zandik just stood there, gaze trained out the window much like how he was years earlier, watching the kids lay out in the grass--except this time, he was watching as they ran for their lives, screaming for their mother and father, hurt and bleeding. 

You didn’t know how long he stood there watching the horrors outside. Eventually, they managed to destroy the ruin guard, and as the sun set in the distance, they began to collect the dead and the wounded. Every now and then, you could hear his parents shouting at each other: “They’ll have him burned! We have to do something!” and “They already thought of him as one of the heretics from the cursed land. There’s nothing left we can do for him without us meeting the same fate.”

Zandik didn’t react to any of it--there was a vacuum where his emotions should have been, a cavity where his heart should have been. He felt cold and numb and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was in shock over what had happened and what he had caused, or if it was because he truly did not care. 

It seemed like an eternity when the shouting finally began again, you could see the torches lit outside, the crowd of survivors in front of his home. They were angry, bloodthirsty, out for vengeance, and still, Zandik remained apathetic, standing in the same spot. 

“Bring the boy out, Zakai,” the man at the head of the crowd called loudly. “You can’t protect him anymore.”

Neither his father nor mother responded but the words broke his stupor. Finally, he turned to face his parents and you could feel a bit of anxiety start to pool in his stomach as if he were finally realizing what was about to happen.

You were starting to realize it too and you wanted to throw up. 

“The Celestial gods have turned their backs on us for harboring a heretic. We have faced famine, drought, plague, and now this, all within the ten years that abomination has resided here. Our wives, elderly, children were slaughtered because he brought that monster from the cursed lands to our homes. If we don’t do something about it, it will happen again and again and again until we’ve atoned.”

“Zakai,” his mother whispered, shaking her head.

No way, you thought to yourself, horrified, as his father refused to meet her gaze, looking away from both Zandik and his wife. You could feel Zandik’s stomach drop and you could feel the fear begin to settle in his stomach.

“Zakai, you can’t,” his mother said desperately. “It was an accident, they’ll-”

“Enough,” his father responded quietly, and finally he looked at Zandik, only for a moment before he made his way to the door. “There’s nothing else we can do for him. It’s time to let go.”

When you woke up, you knew you had dreamed of your soulmate. You could remember the pain, the shock, the loneliness, and that terrifying sort of satisfaction he felt after he had accidentally led the ruin guard back to his village but you couldn’t remember anything that mattered and it made you want to cry. 

Cursed, they called him, you could remember that but not his name, not the place he had been living, not the faces of the people that had been in the dream, not even his face--you couldn’t remember any of it. It felt like a distant blur, something you could picture but all of the distinct features were smeared into something you couldn’t recognize and you were frustrated. 

Two and a half years. You had two and a half years and then you’d finally be able to get some answers out of him. 

You stared at your forearm, waiting to see if his word would change, wondering if he had dreamt about you too. 

Dottore was livid. He bit back a string of vile curses as he paced around his bedroom. He had dreamt of her. He knew it. He could remember it—he could remember her fear, he could remember her anger, he could remember her desperation. He could still picture the vague memory of her smile, and the way she felt as everything came crashing down around her, but he couldn’t remember anything of importance.

He knew he had figured out where she was. He knew it. But every time he tried to think back on it and remember, he was met with a frustratingly blank slate, an answer that was on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t figure out.

The gods were fucking with him—again—and he was sick and tired of it. He could picture them laughing at him, mocking his situation, jeering at his failure. 

He tried to take steady breaths. He tried to calm himself down. None of it worked. He felt like he was in his late twenties again, unable to control his wild emotions and bouts of anger after being cast out from the Akademiya. 

He braced his hands on the edge of his desk, leaning over it as he shut his eyes and tried to settle down, counting slowly—an old tactic he had used back when he had first been brought into the Fatui. It worked, albeit slowly, but it cleared his head enough so that he could think.

What could he remember? 

A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. He could remember what had happened in the dream—memory? He could remember her getting lost in the storm, an unwelcome return to a past he tried to forget, and he could remember the argument with her mother, the slap.

She had to hide her mark, he remembered, eyes widening a bit. A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. Having to hide her mark. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, again, but again it dissolved before he could capture it. 

He let out a heavy, shaky breath—running a hand through his hair as he returned to his pacing. 

There was something else. He had figured something out beyond just where she was located—something important—but he couldn’t remember what. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he inhaled, turning his mind to a different subject, something else to focus on before he destroyed half of his room in a fit of rage. 

Her. She must have dreamt too, and if her dreams were anything like his, it must’ve been of his childhood. 

Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable, gaze drifting down to his forearm. No one knew of his past—no one besides him and his segments—and he liked to keep it that way. It was a history he had left behind, a name and a face that had died centuries before that he did not want unearthed.

He only hesitated a second before he rolled up his sleeve, intent on trying to get an idea of what she might have dreamed about his past through whatever word passed to him through the bond. 

And he stared—cold, empty, the rage returning but this time it did not burn, it froze. It froze everything, all of the emotions that had been rattling his body, any desire he might have felt to try to locate her, and most importantly, whatever attachment that might have grown in the past thirteen years as he was faced with the word that had haunted him his entire life, branded on his forearm as a searing accusation from the one person that was meant to be his.

His body moved on autopilot as he shuffled through his desk to find the notebook he had kept of all of the words passed onto him. Once it was in his hand, he took two long strides to the opposite side of the room before flinging it right into the fireplace, watching the flames engulf it before leaving his room and making his way down to his labs.

Cursed. 

rbs appreciated!