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glowingmin · 1 year ago

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chapter 53 of this is an adjuration but its (moderately) analyzed

hi everyone we need to talk about chapter 53 aka i’m going to talk about it and you are going to listen. spoilers for the not only the entire chapter (btw i’m gonna be going crazy) but basically chapters 39 to 53 too. also yes i will be talking about all 100+ footnotes and yes i am going to be mad theorizing throughout. we cite our sources in this bitch.

first off: we’re starting off with Red being dead! fantastic! already in tears again thank you Vio. But now we get a different point of view, which is a lot more detailed. Makes sense because 1: vio and 2: four.

footnote 1: the implications of the hesitation. followed by footnote 76. green is an interesting critter. Red clearly is worried about dying, about becoming nothing if their sword is lost (footnote 93). From what I’m understanding, Vio and maybe Blue also felt the same during the sealing? Not too sure about Blue.

But also this comes back with when they go to pull the sword again! All of Link is in agreement (footnote 101). Which includes Green. Does existing again as Link where they don’t all fit back together perfectly help this along?

“Shadows grow, harsh and angular, a myriad of isosceles shards spilling out in a tiled plane. The power of them thrums, climes up Vio’s spine in a way that is so very familiar.”

Is Twilight’s shard the same Darkness as Shadow? As the Dark Mirror? I know nothing about twilight princess so I’m probably not qualified to theorize on it. Spoiler alert we're doing it anyways. The wording of shadows here, shadows being used, makes me think that it Has to be the same thing. Especially since Vio says that it feels familiar.

The portals that are taking them across time, whether caused by Hylia or Dink or Hyrule or Whoever Else is playing Tug of Link, also seem to be this dark magic. I don’t remember Vio saying that feels similar. So there has to be some sort of difference between types of dark magic.

revision glowmin here: did some twilight princess research. Apparently Twilight and Vio can shake hands on a friend breaking a mirror and disappearing. they should start a club.

footnote 2: Red and Vio bonding about Shadow! the pain of ‘when that happens, i’ll be right there’. but!! red isn’t here anymore!! christ!! “He’s good at that. Putting his feelings into metaphorical little boxes where they can’t touch him. Where they can sit and wait until he is no longer, and Link can take the boxes and open them up and the piece that is Vio can examine them under the safety of being a fragment, of being less-than-entire, of being whole, of being One.”

lets talk about this paragraph for a second. Link will no longer exist again. this is Unhealthy Coping 101 lads. He can’t be Link anymore to sort through all of those emotions (I figure Red is normally the one doing the mental housekeeping there anyways). So its going to sit in those boxes and rot there. Will it eventually explode? It sure seems like it during Ravio’s time travel dissertation!

footnote 3: king link the first. Sky? is Sky the king link mentioned here? like ik he’s the first in the Reincarnation thingie. is link doomed to be the hero because he was named after the king? if he’d been named bob would he have been spared? hmmmm. i mean Sky is literally mentioned in the sentence the footnote is linked to so.

“(...) it would be so easy to think that it was a piece of the King himself that died.”

but when you think about it, its true. the reincarnation stuff. Four is a Link. Four is a reincarnation of Sky. A part of him just died. So technically yes, I think thats literal.

“Oh. Blue. Blue is here. He can breathe now.”

“He blinks the blurriness out of his vision, to see Blue (his Blue, his guardian, his safety, his wall of ice between them and the world)”

“Of course he has to spell this out for him. Nothing can ever be easy with this man.”

the dual sides of the Vio opinion of one berry boy. The wall of ice though. Is that a callback to Blue being frozen solid in the FSA manga? And how Red had to save him? I notice there’s a lot of elemental imagery in the color-pov’s; green in particular about being comparable to the wind.

footnote 4:Absolute whiplash of a contrast to footnote 2. We go from Red offering to hear Vio talk about Shadow to chapter 39. chapter 39 my beloathed my sleep paralysis demon. The last thing Vio says to Red.

And we know context for why Red died. Red thought that Dink was Shadow. He offers the benefit of the doubt to Dink under that assumption. Even though Vio just spat at him, even though Vio is pulling away, Red is still trying. It gets him killed. If Vio figures out that information, I feel like it’ll be a terrible time.

“Vi isn’t… isn’t really sure which outcome would be worse. Either one would be better than this limbo, this waiting and floating and his body’s instinctive attempts to make him feel.”

emotions can’t touch me these shades are gucci - vio, probably. also I didn’t realize that Vio was still holding Red’s hand when they tried to become One again.

“After that, it’s as simple as wanting, of believing that to not be would be better than being, of feeling the thin tether of magic between himself and the gem in the pommel of his sword, and trying to make it stop. (...) Blue scoops up Red’s sword, the only bit of him left behind but his spilled blood, and two glowing points of red cut through the haze.”

foreshadowing?? foreshadowing?? i don’t remember if any other colors have commented on the tether between their swords and themselves. with that out of the way lets Talk about the difference between Vio and Blue’s thoughts of merging and then we’re getting into my Red Isn’t Dead coping theory

From chapter 40: “The three of them come to him, pushing at the magic and praying to anyone who might be kind enough to listen. There’s a flash of light, and Blue braces himself for the momentarily disorienting experience of becoming One, of having himself overwritten as a part from which the sum is made.

So we know from chapter 53 in particular that Vio has not great self imagery. like not at all. His thoughts of becoming one is summarized in that “believing that to not be would be better than being”. Blue, on the other hand, doesn’t have that thought. It’s a bit more vague, but it’s still enough to notice that merging seems to feel different for all the colors (or at the very least Blue and Vio have different interpretations).

The 2 gems on Red’s sword are glowing, and for the rest its just 1. I didn’t know that was a Thing until chapter 53. so here is my thought: where do the colors come from, actually? This chapter is implying that they are an extension of their swords. Are they physical magic, forced into a ‘body’? So hear me out on this one because I went and reread some of the other chapters to formulate this theory (i am coping hard).

What if: Red isn’t dead. He’s not alive, but not dead. Chapter 41: “Sky sees now, with horrible clarity, the similarity between the glow of the twin gemstones set in the pommel and cross guard of the sword, ruby red like his eyes were, and the sky blue pulsing light of Fi’s consciousness (...) Sky does not know if Red is conscious, if he is aware. He does not even know if he even is anymore. He knows only that Red is dead, and whatever remains of him is inside of that blade.”

First time I read this I was still in tears about Red dying so it didn’t make sense. I’ll be coming back to this theory later but for now let’s leave it at ‘red might not be fully dead he might just be in a coma’.

footnote 5: christ time travel makes my head hurt. i’m looking at it i promise i’m looking at it but the brain is rejecting the knowledge like gas station sushi.

footnote 6: FOUR SWORDS MANGA MENTIONED

footnote 7: ‘magical intervention for dead patients’ you mean the fucking necromancy

footnote 8: thesaurus dot com save me /reference

“What does he think? Of the situation? Of the idea that he has to live like this indefinitely? Of the reality in which Vio lives? Of the fact that this has happened twice now?”

Thoughts are stored in the Vio. the ‘twice now’ really hits hard. going to have a cry break again.

footnote 9: SHIT there isn’t a body either time. both times there’s some Item left behind; the shattered Dark Mirror, Red’s sword. but that’s not enough. good grief this is some trauma

remember the theory i literally just mentioned? here’s another point. I’m unsure how much of FSA manga is canon to adjuration (ik its not canon in LU shut up) but at the end we see very well that Shadow is still alive-ish.

Now hear me out: what if this is the same situation for Red? Alive, but no longer able to interact with the real world? Palace of the Four Sword lore from the Ravio cooking show?? put a pin in it we’re coming back later

““I think that creating a chain of alternative realities would be exactly the kind of thing I’d do to get them back. I think that I’d do whatever it takes, break whatever it takes, until all five of us, were together and home, and safe.” Green nods, and Vio knows that he has been overruled. “We go forward, into whatever fate awaits. We’re going to find who did this, and we’re going to kill them.””

Green doesn’t even ask Blue, now that i’m looking at it. that probably spurred a fight at some point off screen?? Also Vio mentioning five here!! and nobody questions it! I’m guessing they think Vio is out of it because Red is dead and that’s why nobody asked. remember this quote it’s going to be important later.

footnote 10: Green can’t lie? i’m gonna have to reread a bit to see that in a new light. Does Green actually want Shadow back? i hope so i think that would be cool.

“Vio nods. Wind can touch him. Wind is kind, Wind is safe. Wind is robed in blue and just as lovingly violent. Wind is a known quantity.”

Blue is also called a protector multiple times in this chapter and i think thats sweet. bittersweet, but sweet. stark contrast to Vio’s opinion in footnote 6 and between footnotes 3-4.vio honey the opinions aren’t staying in those boxes you made you need a U-haul.

footnote 11: i love these domestic colors moments they’re so. good

““I need you to get your shit together, can you do that for me?” Directions unclear, too broad.”

i am not going to make the joke i am Not going to make the joke

footnote 12: never even watched lttp gameplay but i looked it up just for this footnote. rosetta stone hylian edition real

footnote 13: seeing red. i see what you did there.

““...we lost Blue?” Not another, not a third, Vio can’t do this again, he can’t see that again.”

Green pea please be more specific you aren’t helping things. Considering that just a few paragraphs ago Vio was calling Blue their guardian, I would like to think that Vio is instantly going worst case scenario. and who can blame him, really?

footnote 14: heehoo shadow got thanos snapped, more trauma on the vio boat

footnote 15: I’m not sure how much minish cap is in Adjuration lore but him training at a young age makes him being picked to repair the picori blade more reasonable. because why else would you send a child into the wilderness without any help. he got like 2 years of training He’s Fine.

footnote 16: footnote 84 callback

“Wind is blue and water, and he feels just like a big brother should. (...) Green has his voice, has blown it away with his already made up mind.”

More elemental imagery for the colors! And its also being applied to Wind, who wears Blue, and is being compared to Blue.

footnote 17: i couldn’t find any reference of something called a ‘tracking hawk’ other than something that happens in twilight princess apparently? so maybe that’s what this is referencing.

footnote 18: hesitation to smash the Dark Mirror shaking hands with hesitation to put the Four Sword back in its pedestal? also your daily reminder that in the manga TINGLE contributes to why Vio didn’t smash the mirror

footnote 19: is this Blue perception in the memory? about the ice? maybe.

footnote 20: vio picture perfect memory canon.

“A flash of blue. Blue? No, Wind, screaming and disemboweling a moblin three times his size, an unmoving obstacle between Vio and what had been his certain death.”

From chapter 42: “The rest of them all be fucking damned, Wind is getting Vio out of this alive.”

just figured this little nod to that would be important to point out. Wind goes big brother mode and I’m here for it.

footnote 21: tragedy + time = comedy reference maybe? I figure Blue has had some time to cool down by killing monsters, so that’s probably why he’s able to muster a joke. if it was even on purpose

footnote 22: A field guide on first aid would honestly be really good for the colors/Link to know. especially if minish cap is fully in Adjuration canon. I don’t know how well Ezlo would be for administering hylian first aid in the field.

footnote 23: from FSA manga, vio: “Because I was ‘the smart one’ I thought I was always right. I learned ‘smart’ and ‘wise’ aren’t always the same’. Concussion is definitely going to put some struggle on the braincell.

footnote 24: Is Vio the only color capable of lying?

“Vio sighs, and melts into the warmth, the scent of the Dark. It is familiar and it is safe and he is free to go away.”

THE Dark? Implication that there’s only One Type, so. scratch whatever nonsense I was on earlier about there maybe being different types of Dark, ig.

footnote 25: MINISH CAP MENTIONED!!!!!!!!!

footnote 26: more domestic color moments. Is their home labeled ‘four’? I’m assuming it is because there is an ‘r’ and ‘u’ and each color is painting 1 letter.

theory number three time: what the piss is going on at four’s house. from chapter 44: “Even still, Legend could swear that he saw the handle turn as he drops.” and then chapter 53: “Even still, Vio knows that he sees the door handle turn.” we have 2 inbetween footnotes to go through really quick and then we’re theorizing again.

footnote 27: more fodder for the theory of the colors just being their swords, I think!

footnote 28: wonder which of the colors is the most attuned to magic. maybe vio?

alright its THEORY NUMBER THREE FOR REAL TIME MOTHERFUCKERS THIS IS WHERE I GO CRAZY

“Something Dark and familiar crawls like a shiver up his spine.”

Vio knows Dark magic, okay I think we all understand that. He knows Twilight has Dark magic, the Dark Mirror was Dark magic, Shadow was Dark magic. what in the hell is dark magic inside the color’s home? no clue! this is where my theory comes in (it’s a two in one deal)

theory 3.1: Shadow is going to be revived at some point. The Dark magic is familiar to Vio because it’s Shadow, and Vio knows Shadow’s magic. Is Shadow playing tug of war with Dink to bring the colors home? How would he return from the dead? What time even is it in Four’s era at this 10 second pitstop? This is where I think that this is maybe during the late, LATE part of their adventure through time. but the gist is Shadow is somehow alive and is trying and failing to draw anything other than an uno reverse card.

from chapter 45: ““Odd, that. It’s not like there’s anything interesting in there. We tore the whole place apart after the first time. It’s just a small town forge.””

we will bring this back up at the Ravio hour. everything comes up at the ravio hour.

theory 3.2: its Vio from the future. when we get to the Ravio Insanity I’ll get more into this, but we need to go back to this line from chapter 53: “I think that creating a chain of alternative realities would be exactly the kind of thing I’d do to get them back. I think that I’d do whatever it takes, break whatever it takes, until all five of us, were together and home, and safe.” Maybe this is Future Vio making good on his word. ripping apart time and space alike for a CHANCE to save Red.

footnote 29: legend is royalty Adjuration canon?

footnote 30: vio gaslighting hour, but he’s only gaslighting himself. from FSA manga Vio says: “But as a hero, I never strayed from my hopes and goals.” He calls himself a hero here, but then laments about it later. Plus he doesn’t seem happy during the whole confrontation sooooo

footnote 31: fourth edition hehehe

footnote 32: So Blue is to blame for the color’s haircut? I am so deep into brainworms I can’t remember if Four’s eyes changed colors or not.

““He’s got like thirty books crammed in here, where has he been getting them all?””

i love Green and Blue doing their best to bring Vio back to them. rise and shine gamer you need to read your concussion away.

footnote 33: existential crisis from footnote 27

footnote 34: excellent word choice Blue

“Vio pulls the book up, out of the bag and into his lap. It’s heavy and leather bound, with a metalwork crescent moon on the cover. A present from Ravio. (...) Ravio who insists at some point in their future, Vio will want to shatter a Light spell.”

remember theory 1? about Red not being dead? here’s more food for this theory. Four is also called the Hero of Light. A Light Spell. The Four Sword is made to cleave through the darkness (chapter 52). To shatter a Light Spell might be them trying to bring Red back from limbo. if he is in limbo. i hope he’s just in limbo.

“His brothers are both in their usual positions relative to him when they sit like this, the empty space where Red ought to be gaping like a wound.”

you did not have to hurt me like this

footnote 35: Dark Mirror related trauma hours part TWO!!!!

footnote 36: and then it pivots right back from me tearing up to cackling about Shadow and Vio antics. I wonder what word Vio said here to make Shadow confused.

footnote 37: looking at shattering a Light Spell. looking at the magic of the Four Sword. if the Light spell Vio wants to shatter really is Red’s sword, the fact that Four is a blacksmith just might be what saves the situation

“The book is tugged from his hands and Blue’s own, cold and calloused, take hold.”

Are Blue’s hands permanently cold from being frozen? I know there’s been ice and water imagery in the past with Blue but this would be neat. Also did Blue and Green also see the note Ravio left (Don’t let anyone but you Four see this) and that’s why Blue is taking the book away?

footnote 38: we love character insight!! we love link knowing that a custom product tailored to the horse is better than a one size fits all mold!! hell yeah!

“Vi watches as Blue’s expression ices over.”

More ice imagery, this time with Wind present! Wind is sticking up for Vio like the big brother he is. And from chapter 45 we know that Wind most likely just finished telling Sky off about not being okay, too, so he is just picking up Red’s place as therapist I guess!

39: more important possible minish cap or just adventure in general books to have read

“Wind is curled into the front of him, blankets tangled up in the boy’s legs. Vio twists in place, spinning to face Blue. His brother is still in his sleep, face softer than it ever is when he’s conscious. Red’s sword creating a barrier between them, laid in its scabbard (Blue’s scabbard, they have to get him a new one just for him now) on the bedding, Blue’s fingers held fast to the hilt. Where’s Green?”

I skimmed through chapter 45-46 and I didn’t see any mention of where Green is at this point so I’m not sure where he is. But Wind is in on the cuddling and I’m here for it. And also… Red’s sword is still in the pile. Is there symbolism behind Red’s sword being between Vio and Blue? About how Blue is using the voice reserved for Red for Vio, now?

footnote 40: thinking this is pre minish cap, I think link already has a scabbard when he starts that journey.

“The boy gently presses them to Vio’s temples, and it is warm and loving and wild and red.”

All of those adjectives are applicable to Red. food for thought.

“Vio looks back down at the book in his hands. Not Ravio’s, good. His brothers aren’t that stupid, thank Hylia.”

So here I think the other colors have seen the note Ravio left them. I don’t know if they’ve discussed anything about it or not. or maybe they don’t know and its only Vio?

footnote 41: concussion

footnote 42: book (yeah I don’t have much to say for these two footnotes)

“The fire is warm and the floor is hard under his shoulder blades as he stares up at the ceiling, Blue on one side, Wind on the other.”

Wind is shoving Green out of the equation I think. I feel like this animosity will probably become important later but so far I don’t think anythings happened.

footnote 43: I know nothing about coffee so I really don’t know what this footnote is about, but Red is precious as always.

footnote 44: BODY LANGUAGE FOR DUMMIES i cackled when i saw that

“Green visibly chews that idea over in his mind, probably working overtime to have an original thought.” Compared to chapter 46: “Green frowns, starting to mentally replay every interaction that he has had with Legend. The universe, or fate, or… Hylia, maybe the Goddess herself decides that that is enough thinking for him today, because that is when the portal opens.”

footnote 45: “Not that Shadow's pressence here is strange, but for the first time, Vio didn't sense him coming. The alarms didn't start going off. He was woken by a physical touch, not warned seconds before by the indescribable feeling of wrong that slithers up his spine whenever this boy gets too close.”

WE ARE GOING TO BE COMING BACK TO THIS FOOTNOTE KEEP IT IN YOUR BRAINS FOLKS

footnote 46: Sky is arguing with Green, and then it references the downfall of Skyloft. beans

footnote 47: arson is the answer. arson is always the answer.

““Walk away before I break your nose again.” His protector says this as casually as if he were listing off how many nails they needed to make that week.”

Blue is (as the quote says) protecting Vio here. which is sweet. Blue broke Green’s nose back at the ranch (chapter 46)

footnote 48: Dark Mirror shattering reference? I wonder how long after the adventure this is. Also we know one set of the footsteps is Blue, but who’s the other?

footnote 49: A feeling of something Dark, something wrong slithers with a shiver up his spine. Vio looks up, and sihloutted in the moonlight, there is a boy in a tree.

WE’RE COMING BACK TO THIS ONE TOO.

footnote 50: honestly surprised its not a plastic plant but this is arguably funnier

““Hyrule says a big fight is heading our way. We aren’t going to be able to keep you out of it.””

We’re at chapter 47 now!

footnote 51: considering how Easy the bow is to use in FSA this footnote makes a lot of sense.

footnote 52: multivariable calculus and ‘simple straightforward’ do not belong in the same sentence vio what the shit.

footnote 53: in the manga vio is shown to load 2 arrows at once, so yeah archery being preferred makes sense to me!

footnote 54: blacksmith fun!

footnote 55: god i fucking hate geometry all my homies hate geometry

footnote 56: MINISH!!!!

footnote 57: john mulaney reference?? also grandpa and the colors! wonder where Four’s father went

“Vio nearly laughs at the realization that all of that pain and suffering could have been avoided if they had simply gone through in pieces every time. And he’s supposed to be the smart one.”

They’ve been through a few portals since Red’s death by now, so the fact that he’s only noticing this now speaks volumes to how… mm, withdrawn into himself he’s been.

“Vio stares at the portal itself, considering. Hyrule made this. He didn’t know that was something that one of them could just do. (...) Vio slides his hand into his own pack, feeling around until he makes contact with the book Ravio gave him, finger tracing delicately around the thin ornamentation. All this time, he has had the directions for non-paradoxical time travel literally in his fucking pocket.”

hey remember theory 3.2? this might be where Vio gets the idea that he can do this sort of thing.

revision glowmin here: for some reason footnote 58 got deleted. So here it is! Vio does in fact look smug.

““How long have you known that Red was going to die?” Vio aks, voice as hard and unfeeling as stone.”

More earth elemental imagery for Vio!

“Ravio flinches, not meeting Vio’s stare. “The eighth,” he practically whispers, as if confessing to a crime.”

I know I mentioned this in my Ravio Board Analysis but the Link To Ravio timeline traveling being nonlinear makes my brain hurt and I cry.

footnote 59: Vio would forgo reading to watch Blue and Vio spar (?) so you know its good stuff

““So don’t. Because I’m sorry Legend, but I’m going to have to kill your husband now.” Blue says this as gently and steady as a summer rain.”

graduated cylinder homophobia

footnote 60: the stark comparison between Blue’s playful sparring with green (footnote 59) and the dance fight with Red (this footnote) really makes him going for Legend look like murder. which. was the point but you know what I mean

footnote 61: I am 90% sure this scene happens right after Shadow disguises himself as Vio in order to get the other colors to actually fight Vaati effectively. We don’t see which direction Shadow leaves and Vio enters from, but it is possible that its the same direction. and the next time we see Shadow he is limping, so,,,, yeah.

“(...) Blue flips his grip on Red’s sword and slams the pommel into Legend’s nose, which Legend answers with a shield bash of his own right to his brother’s face. Vio hopes it hurts.”

This strikes me as a bit odd since Vio has been calling Blue ‘protector’ and ‘guardian’ throughout this chapter, albeit with pauses of dismissing him for brashness. Perhaps its because of the note Ravio left in that book, and the knowledge that in the future he wants to shatter a Light spell? And in order to do that Ravio must still be alive, so that’s my reasoning on why Vio wants Blue to hurt.

footnote 62: MINISH CAP MENTIONED also this must be before the minish cap journey because I think after that any attempt to say Link is ‘too old for that nonsense’ is thrown out the window.

footnote 63: vidow (metal pipe sound effect)

““Captain,” he says, walking over to him first. “This is from him.” (...) A room full of eyes on him, Vio tears open the envelope and carefully pulls out the single scrap of paper. (...) ‘You’re going to have to trust me, Violet. And you’re going to have to prove you’re as good a liar as he says you are. I’m trying to help all Five of you. -Not a hypocrite, either.’”

WE’RE HERE ITS TIME FOR THE THEORIES TO COME ROLLING. YOU REMEMBER THE FOOTNOTES I TOLD YOU TO REMEMBER? THEY’RE COMING IN NOW.

back to back here we have the mentioning of a ‘he/him’. I think its pretty clear that when Ravio is addressing Warriors, he’s referring to Wind in the future. Wind hasn’t gone to the War of Eras yet, and he gets called some weather nicknames in chapter 52 (“That crazy little hurricane who knew more than any person should, and was drowning in the weight of all that unwanted wisdom.” (...) “kidnapping people like my poor self and that damn riptide.”)

So that begs the question: who is the ‘he’ Ravio is mentioning in his letter to Vio? Is this future Wind? I see two possibilities, and so I raise you theory 3.2.1: Wind is the one who is helping future Vio rip holes in the fabric of time. You remember right before footnote 10, where Vio mentions five instead of four? Maybe this is where Wind would get the ‘five’ from when describing things to Ravio. Not super important I think but it is absolutely worth mentioning.

now I hope you’re ready for my insanity folks!

The line ‘not a hypocrite either’ leads me to believe that Ravio is referring to himself and Legend. Ravio is Legend’s dark world counterpart, just as Shadow is Four’s. To imply that he is not a hypocrite means that Ravio knows of Shadow’s existence. More than that, he knows of Vio and Shadow’s relationship.

Now I’ve reread Adjuration 3x now and Legend has completed the Palace of the Four Sword (chapter 24: “I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Legend’s mouth moves faster than his brain for once in his life, and he winces, but goes with it. “I knew I recognized that damn sword.”) My running theory is that perhaps the Palace of the Four Sword being in the Dark World is what could possibly lead to Shadow being revived. let me explain.

in the board of madness of chapter 49, we get the timeline of the visits. Chapter 49 is visit 8 for Ravio. It is the only one thats black. For Ravio, he apparently learns who Shadow is BEFORE he learns who Red is. The visit for when he learns about Shadow (visit 8 ravio visit 6 links) is yet to happen in Adjuration. There’s 1 more visit between visit 2 ravio visit 8 links (visit 6 ravio visit 7 links) so SOMETHING is going to happen between the next 2 visits, i guarantee it. My theory? Control is going to be waived from Dink (if only slightly) and he is going to Get Pissed. More on that later but first: who’s at the forge.

Each time Shadow’s magic/Dark magic is addressed by Vio, it is done in a similar way. Chapter 53: “The power of them thrums, climes up Vio’s spine in a way that is so very familiar.” “Something Dark and familiar crawls like a shiver up his spine.” “He was woken by a physical touch, not warned seconds before by the indescribable feeling of wrong that slithers up his spine whenever this boy gets too close.” “A feeling of something Dark, something wrong slithers with a shiver up his spine.”

Every. Single. Time. Dark magic is either called ‘familiar’ or ‘wrong’, and it sometimes causes Vio to shiver. There is some force of Dark magic attempting to bring the chain to Four’s forge. It is that line about it being familiar when they drop in their most recent visit that leads me to believe that it is Shadow. How is it Shadow? Freyja confirmed that Shadow is 100% dead at the end of the events of the manga, so we know he’s dead. I have almost zero basis for this but I have a Theory (this logic is solely going off of the “Entity in the Forge” vibes).

In chapter 24, we get insight on the Palace of the Four Sword from Legend. “Don’t think about where he saw it the first time, don’t picture Four like that , don’t think about the malice and the stench of death, the black magic and the hatred rolling off the blade in waves. Fight now. Panic later.”

Is there a difference between black magic and Dark magic? I don’t know enough Zelda lore to say for certain. What we do know is that Legend is from Four’s future. Time travel confusion aside, in a Link to the Past, there is a copy of Red. What I think is going on here is that the Palace of the Four Sword being in the Dark World is perhaps a catalyst to revive Shadow. He came from the Dark Mirror after all; surely that much Dark magic in one place would be good for this sort of thing? The hatred is a bit concerning but I think a little anger is good as a treat.

How does he get back to his proper time period? Cia’s spellbook, I think. I truly honestly 85% believe that the tug of war here is between Shadow and Dink/the Yiga Clan. From tumblr, we have the list of the chain as follows: Sky, Four, Red, Green, Blue, Vio, Time, Legend, Hyrule, Wind, Twilight, Warriors, Wild, and then a redaction of a member.

(brief pause by revision glowmin here: the distinction of Four being different than the RGBV is a neat detail)

As far as I know there’s only a few options that this 14th Link could be. It could be the link from Spirit Tracks; unless Adjuration Wind also has that adventure. It could possibly be the Ancient hero from BOTW, the one shown on the tapestry and then in the Hero’s Aspect in TOTK. It could be the first ever Link, the one before Sky. Or it could be Shadow. I don’t think any of these four options deal with Dark magic other than Shadow.

There’s also my other theory that it’s Vio (and possibly Future Wind?). Vio has already made it clear that he will do whatever it takes (confirmed by freyja via tumblr: “Vio is willing to get his hands dirty. Vio is willing to shatter fragile things. Vio has nothing left to loose.”) I’ll bet my stockpile of gummy worms that the other 15% is this scenario. (“He doesn’t need to. For the five of them, there is no price too high, no cost too great. He’s going to do whatever it takes.”)

(revision glowmin again. no cost too great? hollow knight moment.)

Now let’s talk about the Yiga Clan for a bit. I want to strangle them like a wet sock. They’re like the Eyes of Ganon that Hyrule talks about sometimes. I know little about them, but the point is that their goals are the same: kill the hero to revive Ganon. For the Eyes, its Hyrule, because they need his blood. For the Yiga Clan, it’s Wild, because… well, he killed Ganon and its revenge time.

I think the reason the Yiga Clan are so against the chain being in Four’s era for more than a few seconds (other than the fact that they’re not the ones taking the chain there) is related to Ravio’s thesis. “His era might not be poison to Darkness the way that Sky’s is, but it’s too closely guarded.”

If the chain wind up in Four’s era, and the Yiga can’t wrangle them back, Dink might lost control of the ordeal. For the most part it seems like he’s been the one picking and choosing where the portals will lead the heroes. (“The Captain arches an eyebrow, “Who are the other players?” / “Hylia, The Yiga clan, and Hyrule, though he has hesitated to take his turns, for starters.””)If he lost that control, I feel like it would be a spiral of madness as he goes off script to get them back under his thumb.

For the silly, how I’ve been coping with the angst has been that Red and Shadow are 2 ghosts following the Chain around and just watching all this shit go down. Canon? 99% sure that’s not the case, but it sure would be funny! i drew a little something to commemorate this coping mechanism.

okay. ramblings and thoerizationings are over (I probably repeated myself way too much). tldr: there’s plausible cause for the dark entity at Four’s forge to be Shadow, but it could also possibly be Vio from the future/near the end of the journey. Whoever it is, they’re threatening to remove some of Dink’s control of the situation and that might Escalate Conflict. The Palace of the Four Sword is important to a possible Red revival (and maybe Shadow)! I am never going to emotionally recover from this.

back to your regularly scheduled analysis that is probably going to go off the walls again.

footnote 64: again: if Four had been named Bob and not Link, would the Minish have had to pick a different hero? I wonder what reasoning Four’s father had for naming him after the king, anyways.

footnote 65: Ravio and Legend’s dynamics being directly related to Vio and Shadow. More correlation of Ravio saying he’s ‘not a hypocrite either’.

footnote 66: domestic color antics. Blue screaming that he’s going to kill Red, starkly contrasting with how Blue reacted when Red actually died. We know that Blue was exaggerating here in the flashback but it’s here, so its getting mentioned.

“Vio gets up, leaving them to it in order to get a better view of Ravio’s notes. It’s not hard to follow. The Timeline in the middle, their lives in bullet points on one end, their visits to this era in history on the other.”

Vio sweetie I don’t understand the visits to the Ravio Center. at least he gets it so good for him I guess.

“Wind marches over, frowning. “What are you - oh.” The sailor frowns as he takes it all in. “Why is my name all over this?” / Green blinks. “That’s what I was asking you.””

The revisitation of the animosity growing between Green and Wind!

footnote 67: Not sure when this flashback takes place, but I’m assuming its shortly after Shadow’s death?

footnote 68: There is a lot of. unrest in the chain because of Red’s death. Twilight gets outed as Wolfie, the colors are in shambles, Green and Wind are fighting, Twilight and Wild are not having good terms, the Fierce Deity is brought out, etc etc it is a Shit Show.

rapid fire footnote time

footnote 69: Legend just said that he might not stop Blue from killing Ravio this time. This is, of course, comparable to how the last thing Vio said to Red was to spit in his face. which is what this footnote is a recap of.

footnote 70: projection moment

footnote 71: Shadow gets blasted to bits

footnote 72: I believe this is a callback to footnote 48

footnote 73: More broken glass imagery back to back. Vio pointing out that for the next two visits that happen for Ravio is going to be when he possibly learns who Shadow is, and a better understanding of Red. I think. the timeline of the Ravio Hours hurts my head.

footnote 74: WHO IS THE HE. we already went over this but I’m bringing it up again. Wind or Shadow, I’m placing my bets.

footnote 75: Red again reassuring Vio about Shadow, and about how they all would like him back. Which is, again, making Vio spitting at Red right before he dies all the worse.

footnote 76: “Green on the other hand, feels nothing but the desire to get this over with.” Now that I’ve given it more thought, I don’t think this is ‘hee hoo Green is Diet Link’. I think Green is still feeling unnerved about it (see footnote 1), but its perhaps muddled over him trying to keep the others from backing out.

footnote 77: of course vio knows statistics

footnote 78: Vio calling himself a traitor here, I think is an implication of how he considers himself a villain but… if he’s a traitor to Shadow, who is the ‘villain’ here, at the very least it’s morally grey territory. i think. i don’t know man

footnote 79: I believe this also happens right after footnote 48

footnote 80: Okay but the fact that this is ‘twice will happen thrice’. This has happened twice to Vio (Shadow and Red). The third time would be Ravio.

footnote 81: Wind specifically being mentioned here is important I think. I don’t know why its important but it feels important. especially since he was the one who stood up to Green.

footnote 82: crying

“Vio freezes, words going still in his throat as they choke him. He’s getting overly emotional. He’s getting worked up. His feelings are trying to exhume themselves.”

I feel like this is a direct callback to the start of the chapter. Vio says that he can put all his emotions into boxes to save them for when he becomes One. I think the boxes are beginning to overflow.

footnote 84: another continuation of footnote 48, 72, and 79 I think.

footnote 85: Vio throwing shade at Green

footnote 86: blue performed a whoopsies

footnote 87: Derealization moment I think. Which honestly, yeah with all the screaming going on in this scene I can. yeah.

“Vio turns and sees Wild, lowering a serving tray down, upon which rests four cups full of steaming tea.”

Four cups, but I think in this case the four are Vio, Blue, Green, and Sky. I don’t think there’s anyone else in this part of the conversation.

footnote 88: IMPORTANT!! IMPORTANT SHIT HERE!! SOUND THE ALARMS. Not only is it a title drop, but we also have Shadow beginning to understand that he can be more than just one thing. He was created by Ganon to be evil, yes, but then in the manga Zelda tells him that he is as much a hero as the colors are. I think this is a scene that will come into play later if the entity at the forge is in fact Shadow. or if there’s any future Shadow related plot points.

footnote 89: I think Vio might be the only color capable of lying. In chapter 53 we hear that Blue nor Green can (or are good at) lying. Red being able to lie isn’t brought up, but I’d assume it to be the same scenario.

footnote 90: quote straight out of the manga

“Everyone else moves an instant after Legend’s fist crashes into Wild’s eye, to pull them apart or join in the fight, Vio isn’t sure.”

Here we learn that Legend punches Wild! I’m pretty sure this is where his knuckles get injured, and its the wound Hyrule’s blood heals.

footnote 91: Shadow dies and then Ganon shows up, so it is… a situation, that’s for sure! Unless Adjuration takes a different spin on that part of the manga. Vio calling himself a villain again is also important because he does not define himself as a hero.

““I’m not letting go of Red,” Blue says, as passive a threat as a sheet of ice above a turbulent river. “Take me if you need to, but not Red.””

It seems like all of the colors understand now that they are (?) their swords. He’s telling Warriors to take himself, but not Red, in reference to disarming. Also, more ice and water symbolism!

footnote 92: ‘singular point of light’. I feel like this might be a contribution to shattering a Light spell

footnote 93: fire imagery for Red!

footnote 94: IT WAS THE WORD FOUR. okay good I wasn’t tripping. I think the black paint here is for Shadow. And since its Link doing this, I think that it is proof that its not just Vio who wants Shadow back but rather All the colors.

footnote 95: callbacks to all the training flashbacks of Link and his father, I think

footnote 96: Ravio says that Four does not fail, and then the footnote is a flashback of him failing to exist after merging back together for the first time. short king stay winning

footnote 97: MINISH CAP MENTIONED. but also ‘happy and warm and safe and red’.... more Red imagery

footnote 98: I think this must be shortly before the adventure begins. Link isn’t split, but he knows that he is able to. So it has to be after the Four Sword is removed from the seal, but before the journey starts else he’d probably be addressed as Four here.

““But we keep going there, so it’s not entirely out of the running?” Warriors asks, trying to make sense of the plot. / “It wasn’t, but it is now.” Ravio sighs. “Dink isn’t sending you there, he isn’t going there if he can help it. The risks far outweigh the benefits.”

refer back to my deranged ramblings about Dink losing a smidgen of control of the situation in regards to this quote.

footnote 99: More wondering of how Ravio learns there’s 5 instead of 4. It’s not mentioned in the Palace of the Four Sword as far as I’m aware

footnote 100: again I am pointing at my deranged ramblings above.

footnote 101: In comparison to Green wanting to get it over with, Link being entirely in agreement to split again here is important. The seal will hold for years, they have time to exist. Why spend that time needlessly suffering?

footnote 102: I would ALSO like to know what happened to the Four Sword Ravio. also cute nickname hours and domestic color times.

footnote 103: MINISH CAP CALLBACK to Zelda and Link being childhood friends. It’s also a FS manga callback but shhhh

““The fate of the Four Sword is not relevant to the mission at hand… Captain.””

The hesitation here. I think it means something. I feel as if its to be directed at someone else (maybe Vio?) that this point of the story isn’t important yet.

footnote 104: And here’s the distinction between Four and the colors, in the 14 links guide.

footnote 105: Green is not Diet Link and we all will die on this hill

“One revelation at a time, Ravio chips away at the stone of Vio’s heart.”

More earth elemental imagery for Vio

footnote 106: (we did it we made it to the last one holy shit.) and of course the last footnote is domestic color moments, and its just… so bittersweet.

““Hey Vio? Can you finish this for me?” Ravio calls him back to the real world. He’s kneeling over a small pile of books, pointing to the righted bookcase by the front door. “I need to check on someone.””

This is absolutely done on purpose. “Between History of Masks and Hytopian History of High Fashion, entirely unassuming, is Cia’s spellbook.” There is absolutely zero way that this part, getting Vio to see Cia’s book here, was not intentionally orchestrated by Ravio.

“What this Palace could be Vio has no idea, yet he thinks the answer to both questions might be one and the same.”

alright we did it. we finished the play by play. a few wrap up thoughts and then class is dismissed.

ranking my theories based on how probable I think they are.

1: Shadow is the one at the forge.

2: Wind and Green’s animosity is going to become a key point later on.

3: The ‘he’ mentioned in Ravio’s letter to Vio is Shadow.

4: The ‘he’ mentioned in Ravio’s letter to Vio is Wind from after the War of Ages.

5: Future Vio is the one at the forge.

6: Future Vio is being assisted by future Wind at the forge.

7: Cia’s spellbook is going to corrupt the colors, leading to the versions of the colors that Legend fights. Could possibly be an alternate timeline

8: The Palace of the Four Sword was put in the Dark World by malicious forces to keep the chain from getting something important out of there.

overall this chapter absolutely demolished my mental state metaphorically and literally. revision glowmin will return at a later time to maybe make this more coherent but I unfortunately sold my braincell already. i heart adjuration but it needs to start paying rent.

#glow whispers and junk #this is an adjuration #im normal about this i swear i promise im normal about this #i might tidy this up later but... i needed to get the thoughts out #final wordcount is like 8k. christ

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darkmatilda · 2 months ago

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her. He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief.

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location.

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

"Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

“Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

“Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

"Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control.

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it.

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth.

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else.

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength.

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you. That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

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00valentina-writes00 · 9 days ago

Note

can you do something with a prompt and vi? “Person A and Person B having sex quietly, so as not to wake up their friends who are sleeping nearby. ”

♡♥︎ Quiet Moments with Vi ♥︎♡

Warnings: NSFW (18+), fingering soft dom/sub dynamics, light touch teasing, established relationship, quiet sex,

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the TV casting long shadows across the walls. Your friends were sprawled out on the floor, passed out in various states of exhaustion after a long night of laughter, junk food, and bad movies. The air was heavy with the scent of popcorn and the faint tang of sweat, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Vi’s body pressed against yours on the couch. Her arm was slung casually over your shoulders, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Her touch was electric, sending little shocks of warmth through your body.

Vi’s sharp gray eyes flicked to you, a mischievous glint lighting them up. Her magenta hair was slightly tousled, the shaved side catching the faint light, and her piercings glinted as she tilted her head. “You’re awfully quiet,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, carrying that signature edge of hers. Her breath was warm against your ear, and you could feel the faint brush of her pierced nostril as she leaned in closer.

You shifted slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. Vi’s muscular build was obvious even under the loose fabric of her jacket, and the way she moved—confident, deliberate—made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Just… trying not to wake anyone up,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

Vi smirked, her lips quirking up in that cocky, knowing way that always made your pulse race. “Well, that’s not very fun,” she said, her tone teasing. Her hand slid down your arm, her fingers brushing against your side in a way that made you shiver. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“About what?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly as her hand settled on your thigh, her touch firm but not demanding.

Vi’s eyes darkened, her gaze dropping to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “About how you’ve been looking at me all night,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her thumb began to move in slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, the pressure just enough to make your breath hitch. “And how I’ve been thinking about doing this for hours.”

You swallowed hard, your body instinctively leaning into her touch. Vi’s presence was intoxicating, her confidence and raw energy drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Her hand moved higher, her fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric. “Vi…” you whispered, your voice shaky with both fear and desire.

“Shh,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. “We’re being quiet, remember?” Her hand slipped under your shirt, her palm warm against your stomach, and you gasped softly, your body arching slightly into her touch.

Vi’s other hand moved to your face, her fingers gently tilting your chin up so she could look into your eyes. Her thumb brushed over your lower lip, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes were intense, filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the best way.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rough or hurried—Vi’s kiss was slow, deliberate, and achingly tender. Her lips moved against yours with a gentleness that took your breath away, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for her. The taste of her was intoxicating, a mix of mint and something uniquely Vi that made your head spin. Her hand slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the hard planes of her body against yours, the faint press of her piercings against your skin.

Vi broke the kiss slowly, her breath warm against your lips as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire. Her fingers traced patterns on your back, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Vi…” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands moved to her waist, gripping the fabric of her jacket. “We shouldn’t… they’re right there…”

“They’re asleep,” Vi murmured, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke. Her teeth grazed your skin lightly, just enough to make you gasp. “And I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”

You didn’t tell her to stop.

Vi’s hand slid down your back, her fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants, and your breath hitched as she cupped your ass, pulling you closer. Her other hand moved to your chest, her fingers brushing over your breast through the fabric of your shirt, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Vi’s touch was electric, every movement deliberate and calculated, and you could feel the heat building in your core with every second.

Her lips moved to your ear, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, “I want to make you feel good. Let me… please.” There was a vulnerability in her voice, a softness that caught you off guard, and it was that—more than anything—that made you nod, your grip on her jacket tightening.

Vi’s fingers moved to the button of your pants, her hands trembling slightly as she undid it. The sound of the zipper was impossibly loud in the quiet room, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as she slid her hand inside. Her fingers brushed against your underwear, and you gasped softly, your body arching into her touch.

“So wet already,” Vi murmured, her voice thick with desire. Her fingers slipped under the fabric, brushing against your folds, and you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid of hurting you, and the thought made your chest ache.

Vi’s fingers explored you slowly, her touch light and teasing as she traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Her lips found yours again, her kiss soft and reassuring, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away. Her fingers dipped lower, brushing against your clit, and you gasped into her mouth, your hips bucking slightly.

“Shh,” Vi whispered, her lips moving against yours. Her fingers circled your clit, the pressure just enough to make you shudder, and you buried your face in her neck, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she murmured, her voice rough with emotion. “I want to make you feel good… let me take care of you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your hands gripping her jacket as her fingers moved lower, dipping inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, the slow, deliberate movements of her fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. Vi’s lips moved to your neck, her teeth grazing your skin lightly as she whispered, “That’s it… let go for me.”

Her fingers curled inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made your vision blur, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. Vi’s pace was slow, her movements careful and deliberate, and you could feel the tension building in your core with every stroke. Her thumb brushed against your clit, the added pressure making your hips buck, and you buried your face in her neck, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

“Vi…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you clung to her. “I… I’m…”

“I know,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her fingers moved faster, the pressure increasing slightly, and you could feel the heat building in your core, threatening to overwhelm you. “Come for me, baby… let go.”

and you did.

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glowingmin · 6 months ago

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@bittirsweeteer ?ploo

Yeah I love manipulating my friends for my own gain, the gain is called "hanging out", obtained via such cruel tactics as "showing interest in stuff they like" and "being generally complimentary and charming"

#glow whispers and junk

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vanteguccir · 6 months ago

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hey ❤️ can you make chris x reader where she start to feel really sick in the middle of the video and he take her out of the car and take care of her??

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

chris sturniolo x reader

where your low blood pressure and weak stomach decide to make a show during a car video ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was night when the group of four found themselves inside Matt's car. Chris had taken his usual place in the passenger seat, his laughter already bubbling up as Matt fiddled with the camera settings from the driver’s seat, while Nick occupied the back seat beside Y/N.

They had just eaten a pile of fast food, the wrappers still littering the floor of the car. Y/N had smiled through every bite, eager to join in the recording, even though greasy burgers and fries weren’t her usual fare.

As the camera rolled, Nick cracked a joke - as usual -, and Chris doubled over, laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he recounted a particularly funny incident involving Matt.

Y/N giggled along, trying to keep her smile steady, but she could feel a heavy unease settling in her stomach, an unwelcome discomfort that she couldn’t shake. She shifted in her seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position, but it only made the nauseous sensation swirl more violently.

Her face, usually so vibrant with laughter, began to pale as she pressed a hand to her stomach, willing herself to keep it together. The boys were too engrossed in their banter to notice at first, but Chris, ever so attuned to Y/N, felt a strange pull at the back of his mind, like a sixth sense.

Chris’s attention drifted, mid-laugh, his head turning slightly as if he could sense something was off. He caught a glimpse of Y/N in the rearview mirror, her face now slightly contorted in discomfort, her eyes no longer sparkling with the joy they usually held. His smile faded instantly, concern etching across his features.

"Hey, you good back there?" He asked, his voice cutting through the playful chaos. Matt and Nick paused, their heads turning to look at Y/N, who was now biting her lower lip, her hands clutching the edge of the seat.

Y/N tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Yeah, I’m fine." She said weakly, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her, and her stomach churned, making her feel queasy.

Chris wasn’t buying it. His brows furrowed as he twisted in his seat to get a better look at her. Her skin had lost its usual glow, replaced with a clammy sheen. Instinctively, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around, leaning into the back seat with genuine concern written all over his face.

"Babe, you don’t look fine." Chris said softly, his voice laced with worry. He reached out to touch her forehead, his hand cool against her skin. She leaned into his touch slightly, eyes closing as she tried to steady her breathing. "You’re really pale. What’s going on? Is it your blood pressure?" He pressed gently, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard as she leaned her head back against the seat.

"I think it’s the food." She admitted quietly. "I’m not used to eating so much junk food at once. I’m really starting to feel sick, and i feel my blood pressure falling again." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she looked at him with eyes that silently begged for comfort.

Chris’s heart clenched at the sight of her discomfort. He hated seeing her like this, knowing she was in pain. The playful atmosphere from a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by a quiet tension as Nick and Matt exchanged worried glances.

Without missing a beat, Chris was already moving.

"Okay, let’s get you out of here." He said decisively, his tone firm yet soothing. He pushed open his door and quickly got out of the car, opening the back door to help Y/N out. Nick shifted to the side to give her space as Chris reached in, his arms slipping around Y/N’s shoulders and waist. "Come on, easy." He murmured, guiding her out of the car.

Y/N leaned heavily against him, grateful for his support. The cool evening air hit her as soon as she stepped out, a welcome relief against her flushed skin. Chris kept a steady arm around her, his other hand holding hers as he led her a few steps away from the car.

Once they were a safe distance from the car, Chris turned Y/N to face him, his hands gently cupping her cheeks.

"Look at me, baby." He said softly, his voice a balm against her unease. She opened her eyes to meet his, and he offered her a small, comforting smile. "Just breathe, okay? Nice and slow. I’ve got you." He rubbed his thumbs gently along her jawline, his touch feather-light.

Y/N nodded, taking a shaky breath in through her nose, then exhaling slowly. Chris’s presence was a steady anchor, his hands warm against her skin. The nausea was still there, lurking, but his calm, steady gaze helped to ground her.

Behind them, Matt and Nick watched from the car, their expressions a mix of concern and relief, knowing Chris had everything under control. Matt leaned forward, his eyes scanning Y/N’s face.

"Do you want some water? We have a bottle in the car." He offered, ready to jump into action. Nick nodded in agreement, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a serious look.

Y/N managed a small smile, touched by their concern.

"Water would be great." She said, her voice still a bit weak. Matt immediately turned to grab a bottle from the front, tossing it to Chris, who caught it effortlessly. He uncapped it and held it to Y/N’s lips, watching as she took a few small sips. "Thanks." Y/N murmured after a few gulps, feeling slightly better.

Chris nodded, still holding the bottle as he pulled her into a gentle embrace, his chin resting atop her head. He could feel the tension in her body slowly start to melt away, her breathing evening out as he held her close.

"You’re okay." Chris whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I’m right here. You’re going to be okay." He continued to rub her back in slow circles, his touch gentle yet reassuring.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers. The nausea was still there, but Chris’s presence made it bearable.

After a few moments, Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at Chris, her eyes still a little glassy.

"I’m sorry for ruining the video." She said softly, her voice tinged with guilt. Chris immediately shook his head, his expression softening.

"Don’t say that." He said gently. "You’re more important than any video. We can always film another time. I just want you to feel better." He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader fluff #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x yn #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fluff #fluff #angst #sick!reader

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thesecondhandwoman · 3 months ago

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GUNPOINT KISSES

Jinx x f!reader

Synopsis: Jinx was acting unnatural, and it was making you concerned. But once you made it to obvious, Jinx made sure to show you the real reason why.

The warehouse was quiet, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of neon lights. Shelves lined with handmade gadgets and scattered junk cast jagged shadows across the concrete floor. The hum of machinery was a constant, but for once, the usual chaos felt distant. Jinx, however, didn’t seem to mind the silence. She was still as restless as ever.

She paced back and forth, her electric-blue hair bouncing with each step. There was a different kind of energy about her tonight. It wasn’t the usual manic, unpredictable energy she always had—there was a bit more calmness to her, but it was no less intense. She was still Jinx, after all, but tonight, something about her felt… quieter.

You stood across the room, leaning against a stack of crates. Your arms were crossed loosely as you watched her with a cautious curiosity. Jinx had always been unpredictable, but this more subdued version of her had you on edge. She didn’t make any attempt to engage, but there was a tension in the air between you two. She had a way of pulling people into her orbit, whether they liked it or not.

Finally, Jinx stopped her pacing and turned toward you, eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. She cocked her head slightly, studying you for a long moment.

“So, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, babe?” Her voice was soft but held an undeniable spark of mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, studying her. “What do you mean?”

She took a slow step toward you, her fingers playing idly with the grip of her gun as she moved. “I don’t know… You’ve been staring at me all night, and it’s starting to feel like you’re plotting something. You sure you’re not thinking about running away from me?”

You smirked, pushing off from the crates and standing a little straighter. “Why would I run, you’re the one who’s always running circles around everyone else.”

Jinx grinned in that way she did—like she knew something you didn’t, like she always had the upper hand. “Well, maybe I’m ready to slow down for once, hmm?” She was standing in front of you now, dangerously close, her eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. “Maybe I want to feel something a little different tonight.”

There it was again—her soft, almost contemplative tone. You felt that familiar stir of uncertainty, wondering what was going on in her head. The chaos was always there, a constant hum beneath the surface, but she seemed to be trying to hold it back, just for now.

Before you could reply, Jinx reached up and lightly ran the barrel of her gun along your chin, tilting your head back slightly. The cold metal made your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t flinch. Her fingers lingered on the gun, tracing the smooth surface as she studied your face, a wicked little smile curling at her lips.

“You look so cute when you’re confused,” she murmured, her voice suddenly lower, more intense. “I could just kiss you and see what happens, but you might start overthinking it.”

You swallowed, the gun at your chin making the air feel heavier, more charged. You had to admit, it was hard to think straight when she was so close, when she was making every word, every touch, feel like it had a deeper meaning. “Jinx, I—”

Before you could finish, she brought the gun up to your lips, pressing the front of it gently against your mouth, silencing you. Her eyes flickered with something that felt like mischief mixed with an odd tenderness.

“Shh, sweetheart. I didn’t ask you to talk,” she whispered, her voice low but commanding. “Sometimes you need to just shut up and feel.”

You froze, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. The weight of the gun against your lips made your pulse quicken, but the tension between you both felt almost tangible. The brief silence stretched on, and all you could focus on was the way Jinx’s gaze never left yours, the softest hint of a smile curling at her lips.

She held the gun there for a moment longer, then slowly pulled it away, her fingers brushing lightly against your lips as she holstered it with a soft click. “You’re too easy, baby,” she teased, her grin widening. “All I had to do was press the gun against your lips, and you stopped thinking entirely.”

You were still recovering from the unexpected intimacy, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You’re insane,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, but there was no bite in your words.

Jinx stepped even closer, her voice dropping into a more serious tone. “Maybe,” she said softly, “but you like it. Don’t try to deny it. I can see it in your eyes. You like when I take control, when I get close.”

Your heart skipped again, the weight of her words settling over you. There was no escaping it—she saw right through you. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Mm,” she hummed in approval, her fingers sliding along the edge of your jaw as she cupped your chin. “I knew it.” Then, before you could say anything else, she pulled you toward her, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was soft but hungry. It was a sharp contrast to the way she usually was—wild, all-consuming—but somehow, this quiet intensity felt just as powerful.

Jinx’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, but she didn’t push, didn’t rush. She kissed you slowly, as if savoring the moment, savoring the connection between the two of you. You could feel her heart beating against yours, and for once, there was no chaos, no explosions or mayhem. Just her and you, together in this quiet moment of intimacy.

When she finally pulled back, her breath shallow, she smiled at you softly, her eyes sparkling with something warmer than usual. “You’re the only one who gets me like this,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. “The only one who sees past the madness.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not going anywhere, Jinx. I’m right here.”

Her eyes softened for a second, a brief flash of something tender before the familiar spark of mischief returned. “Good,” she said, her voice suddenly light again. “’Cause now I’ve got a whole night of trouble planned, and I need you with me, sweetheart.”

You chuckled, your fingers lightly tracing her arm. “I’m not letting you go anywhere without me, am I?”

She grinned, her fingers trailing lightly across your collarbone as she stepped back, the playful edge back in her voice. “Not a chance, babe. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And with that, Jinx turned on her heel, her chaotic energy returning, though now there was something different in the way she looked at you. As she grabbed a handful of gadgets from a nearby crate, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

This was jinx, and more importantly, your jinx.

#jinx arcane #jinx #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #lesbian fanfic #fanfic #arcane #arcane season two #lesbian

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misctf · 2 months ago

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Hey! I just bought this new VR game system and it says not to try it on alone. What the fuck are they talking about? And why are all the games on the online store so adult centered? Whatever, let's try it, wait what is happening ...

“Dude, you’re not supposed to use Hive X alone.” Some guy messages you in the chatroom, “Did you not see the warnings?”

“Or the reviews?” Another user asks, “It’s best for couples to use it. Together.”

Your eyes narrow, “I didn’t pay all this money not to use it.” You reply, “I’ll let you know how it is.” You look down at the black box.

You always appreciated your friends in the gaming community. But the gaming community was quite divided when Hive X hit the stores. A new VR gaming system that seemed to offer a futuristic level of immersion. You didn’t really have time to read reviews, but you weren’t going to miss out on this opportunity.

“Well, here it goes.” You mumble.

You slowly remove the VR headset from the box, followed by two wrist and ankle cuffs. You can’t help but chuckle when you remove what looks like a waist trainer.

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you read the instructions.

Slowly, you remove your clothes until you’re completely naked. Apparently, this would help facilitate the full immersive experience. And as you stand in the center of your room, you slowly slip on the ankle cuffs, then the wrist cuffs, and finally the waist trainer. You pick up the headset, which looks like that of a motorcycle helmet, and with a deep breath, place it over your head. Initially, all you see is inky blackness. But as it turns on, the world around you comes alive. You wince as the ankle, waist, and wrist pads dig into your skin and warm up. And suddenly, you’re standing in what can only be described as a hotel.

“Oh wow.” You whisper as you look around, seeing others walking around the hotel. Heading to different rooms. You take a deep breath and smell a muskiness mixed with oak wood. The warmth of a glowing fire dancing in the hotel lobby. It’s warm, and a sense of peace fills you, “Oh shit!” You realize that you’re naked and quickly go to cover yourself.

Apparently, others heard you and look over. Some chuckle, some give you concerned looks. And you realize that many of them are naked too. Blushing, you quickly walk down a hallway, awkwardly bumping into and maneuvering around other couples.

“Why the fuck is everyone naked?” You mumble, “And why...” Your eyes widen and you gasp when you turn a corner and enter a large room.

There had to be hundreds of men and women in the midst of a giant orgy. All moaning and engaging in lewd acts. You avert your eyes and back away, heading back the way you came. Your face beet red and dick twitching uncomfortably.

“I should’ve read the reviews.” You mumble, realizing this is some kind of virtual sex toy, “Okay, I’m done. The guys will get a kick out of this.”

“What’s wrong?” You jump at the monotone voice behind you, “So sorry. I’m NPC 436.” A fully clothed, relatively plain individual says, “I am designed to tailor your experience and enhance customer satisfaction.”

“Yeah, I...” You cover your junk, “This isn’t my thing... I...”

“We have many experiences designed for our users.” It continues, “Usually, partners enter the Hive due to enhanced physical sensations. It appears...”

“Yeah, I’m alone.” The NPC nods.

“Based on your preferences and attitudes, we have determined an ideal experience.”

“Wha... how?”

“The VR headset you utilize is a two-way interface with your mind.” It says simply, “Please follow me.”

Part of you wants to say no and write this off as one of your biggest failed gaming experiences. But another part of you is curious. You nod and follow NPC 436 as it leads you to one of the hotel rooms. You stop outside Room 194 and NPC 436 opens the door, beckoning inside.

“Please enjoy.” It says, “Customer satisfaction is a primary objective.” It continues.

You nod as the door closes behind you and you enter a standard hotel suite. A warm fire place cackling and the smell of oak filling your nostrils. You feel your body start to relax and your thoughts slow. Absentmindedly, you stroke your hardening cock. The sound of the shower in the other room brings you back to reality and you slowly walk over. When you enter, your eyes widen.

“Hey there.” The man says, as he turns and smirks at you, “Fuck you’re cute.”

You feel your heart beating, your cock aching with need. And as he approaches you, you step forward. Your hands moving to feel his massive pecs. He grins as he guides your hand to his dick and you shudder at the feeling of his thick manhood in your hand.

“Good boy.” He moans, “I’m NPC 251.” He continues as you continue to feel his body, “Fuck... you’re needy.”

Things seem to move quickly. He’s pressed you up against the wall of the shower, your lips locked, your tongues doing battle. You can feel his rough hands roam your body, as yours continue to stroke his dick. And suddenly you’re on your knees as he fucks your face- you deepthroating him like a pro. He lets out a moan as he finishes and you shudder as you’re filled with his seed.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

You stumble to your feet, quivering from the pleasure. And before you can say another word, you moan as your cock hardens again. A wave of horniness filling your mind. A desire for more filling your every thought.

“Th-this isn’t...” You whisper. How was your body already craving another round? What was this VR device doing to you? “I... I...” NPC 251 is stroking his dick, grinning down at you.

“Additional interaction requires in game purchase.” Your heart sinks, “Would you like to initiate NPC trial period?” NPC 251 asks, “This will unlock additional sessions with any other NPC.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what NPC 251 means. But your aching cock is too distracting. You bite your lip. NPC trial period? What did that even mean? What would it...? But NPC 251... god you wanted to do that again. You wanted...

“Trial period. Please.” You moan.

A searing pain knocks you off your feet. You can feel it in your ankles, hands, and waist. And the feeling seems to be moving along your arms, legs, and torso. You cry out and look up at NPC 251 in terror, gripping your head as you develop a significant headache.

“Digitalization process is taking place.” It says, “Your physical body is being fully converted into the Hive.”

Before you can say another word, a different feeling fills you. You feel like you’re being inflated. Each muscle contracting and bloating. Expanding and growing at a terrifying rate. You try to push yourself up and immediately fall over. Unfamiliar with your new size and bulk as your musculature takes on that of an athlete. You wince as your body hairs burns away and leaves you smooth and hairless. Your muscles toned and bulky. The body of a porn star.

“Optimization of user traits allows for seamless integration for company standards.” It continues, “Your prior traits will be saved in the mainframe.”

You gasp as you look at yourself, hands roaming over your impressive musculature. You moan in a far deeper voice as your ass pulses with need. And you look up desperately at NPC 251, knowing it could give you what your new body craved.

“Initiating directives.”

Your jaw goes slack and your eyes dim as words and numbers flash in front of your eyes. You can barely keep up with the various components as you’re given directions and commands. Your numb mind filling with them- a sense of devout obedience driving you.

“I will serve. I will ensure customer satisfaction.” You drone on, “Serving is my pleasure. Being used is my pleasure.” For a brief moment, you feel fear. Part of you coming to realize what your life is about to become. But fear is not part of your programing, “I am NPC 803.” You say.

NPC 803 was quickly led away to a new room. An empty room. One for NPC 803 and the services it would provide. Time wasn’t a concern for NPC 803, nor were any thoughts about when it would get to return to its old life. And as NPC 803 waiting for someone, it laid in bed. Dildo in its ass. Moaning from wave after wave of pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. All it wanted was to provide customers with the best experience possible. And as another man was led to your room, also without a partner, you couldn’t help but smile. After the time you were gonna give him, you just knew you’d have another NPC joining your team.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #dumber tf #drone tf #gay hypnosis

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glowingmin · 6 months ago

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I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION I BELIEVE IN REDSURRECTION

#glow up the void #glow whispers and junk

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glowingmin · 10 months ago

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Chapter: 1/6 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blue Link & Green Link & Red Link & Vio Link, Blue Link & Green Link & Red Link & Shadow Link & Vio Link, Blue Link/Green Link/Shadow Link/Vio Link Characters: Blue Link (Legend of Zelda), Red Link (Legend of Zelda), Vio Link (Legend of Zelda), Shadow Link (Legend of Zelda), Green Link (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Coming Out, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Red is Asexual, No Sex, No sex happens but it IS implied. just making sure that's known!!, 4+1, red is SO loved, red LOVES so much, LOVE IS STORED IN THE COLORS!!!!, Asexual Red Link Summary:

Red has noticed one by one as his family begins to act... strange around him.

Or: 4 times Red is asked to join the Color Poly and the 1 time the explanation led to a greater understanding.

#glow whispers and junk #four swords #color shipping #what do we call the merging of glue and vidow???#vio link #red link #blue link #shadow link #green link #asexuality is the point of the fic #i propose we call the merged ship. uuuhhhh.#gluevidow #??? maybe??? idfk

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berberriescorner · 8 months ago

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"Late Night Cravings"

Characters: Simon Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Missing your deployed husband, you get a late-night surprise that satisfies both your cravings and loneliness.

Warnings: Steaminess, a bit of angst, loneliness, fluff, mentions of phone sex with suggestive language and descriptions, mild swearing, and lighthearted humor. Oh, and if I hadn’t already made it clear at the top of my blog: minors DNI. My content is for the grown folks👏🏾.

Authors Note: Hello my lovelies🫶🏾! I've been toying with the idea of writing for the Simon Riley/Ghost fandom for a while now. Thanks to some awesome encouragement, I finally took the plunge! This story idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to say, "What the hell," and give it a shot. I hope I captured Simon to the best of my ability. Please remember that this is my first attempt at a Ghost fic…and, well, “I’M JUST A GIRL!🥺🥹😩😆” Okay, a grown woman, but a girl nonetheless. I had a wonderful time writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Word Count: 1,700+.

Inspired By♥️🖤:

The clock ticked past midnight, the silence of the empty house amplifying the sound. In the dimly lit kitchen, the soft glow of the refrigerator illuminated your very pregnant features as you rested a hand on your swollen belly. You sighed, heart heavy with longing for the man you loved, miles away on some unknown continent, carrying out numerous dangerous missions.

You stood there, staring at the array of food in the fridge, a wave of emotions washing over you. Pregnancy hormones wreaked havoc on your mood, and tonight, you found yourself overwhelmed with sadness and longing for your husband, Simon.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached for the phone on the counter. Your fingers trembled with emotion. You needed him. His comforting presence, the sweet sound of his soothing voice to chase away the loneliness that threatened to consume you.

"Hey, love," Simon’s voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. His tone was deep and smooth like whiskey on a cold winter's night.

Your breath caught in your throat. Simon’s voice was a mixture of relief and longing washing over you. "Hi," you replied sheepishly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Everythin' alright, angel?" your husband asked, concern lacing his words.

You sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. "I... I just miss you, Si. And I'm so hungry, but nothing in the fridge sounds good."

Simon’s heart ached at the sound of your voice, at the thought of you being alone, in need of comfort. "I wish I could be there with you, angel. You know I miss you more than anythin’."

A sob escaped your lips, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry, Si. This is probably the last thing you need to deal with right now. I just wish you were home... I need you here. I need you to hold me. To eat junk food with me in the middle of the night. It’s weird not having you with me throughout this pregnancy. I got so used to you being around the first time. It never mattered how late it was. Whatever I craved, you either got up to fetch or prepare it. I miss eating with you. For goodness' sake, I probably sound like a blubbering cow. God I know I sound selfish. I’m sorry, Si."

“That’ll be enough nonsense. No more name-callin’. Eat all you want, beautiful. Vent all you want. ‘S no bother, love. Truly it isn’t.”

A flicker of determination sparked in Simon’s eyes as he listened to your words. "I may not be able to be there in person, but I can still make sure you're taken care of. Give me about ten to twenty minutes, love. I need to sort something out."

You pouted and whispered your agreement as Simon rushed you off the phone, still unsure of how to satisfy your cravings. You plucked a bottled water from the fridge. You waddled toward the living room. Your smile lit up the room as you noticed a pregnancy pillow on the couch. Simon had scattered them throughout the house before leaving. He wanted you to find comfort in any room while he was away.

Your fingers hovered over the remote, drawn instead to the flashing screen announcing Simon’s incoming call.“Babe, that was quick. I’m excited it’s a video call. I miss your f—” Your words came to a pause. He was no longer among his comrades. Your husband had whisked away to his sleeping quarters, all gear removed aside from his balaclava. Some would find it terrifying, but Simon knew that in the depths of your deviant little mind, you found it sexy, arousing even. The shirt and pants he wore underneath were deliciously form-fitting. He watched as your eyes roamed over his biceps. Though you couldn’t see, you were certain there was a sexy smirk underneath his balaclava.

“Eyes up here, angel,” he commanded, voice smoky and sensual.

“Damn it, Si. Now I’m craving both food and you. You cheeky bastard. Did I mention I miss your sexy ass,” you questioned in a teasing manner.

Simon leaned in closer to the screen, giving you a devilish wink. “Miss you more, angel. If you can stay up late for me tonight, I may have time to call you and render some special sleep aid,” he offered, voice smoldering with desire.

“Can’t we do that now?” you whined, mouth forming a slight pout.

“Not now, love. There are more important matters to handle first. I’m afraid my work isn’t done for the night. Can you be patient for me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Atta girl,” he husked, aware of what those two words would do to you.

You tried making a convincing argument, but a knock at the front door interrupted the conversation.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you heard the sound of the doorbell ringing in the background. Stunned, you made your way to the front door, heart racing with anticipation.

Who on earth could be at my door at this hour?

“Um, Si. Baby, there’s—”

“I know. ‘S alright, love. Answer it.”

As you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a delivery bag from McDonald's sitting on the doorstep. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what your husband had done.

"Si, you didn't have to..." you began, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Just open it, love," he interrupted, his voice warm and reassuring.

With watery eyes, you opened the bag to reveal an array of your favorite foods: chicken nuggets, a fish filet, fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the lengths he had gone to make you feel loved and cared for, even from miles away. Simon understood that as a grown-ass woman. You could’ve ordered the food, but he knew it was more about the gesture and putting your mind at ease that mattered most.

"Thank you, baby," you whispered, love overflowing for the man who had stolen your heart many moons ago.

On the other end of the line, Simon smiled, his heart swelling with love for his wife. "Anything for you, angel. Now, let's eat together."

You giggled as his hand waved over an assortment of goodies you had sent in a care package.

“Baby, don’t you have any real food? Anything other than snacks?” you questioned, worried he wasn’t eating enough.

“Johnny’s on kitchen duty tonight. Not takin’ any chances. Eat up, love. Tell me about your day. Is the lil’ lad holdin’ down the fort? Papa left him in charge. And the littlest lad you’re growing? Is he still kickin’ you all night? He’ll be a ball of energy once he’s on the outside. You jus’ wait and see.”

As the two of you sat on the video call, sharing a meal, bonding over the love for your children. You felt closer than ever before. Distance may have kept you apart, but with a little FaceTime, all was right in the world.

After thirty minutes of conversation, the time came and Simon had to go.

“Duty calls, angel,” he gruffed, slightly annoyed.

“Go fuck some shit up, baby.”

Though your words were encouraging and playful, Simon saw the worry in your eyes. He did his best to put you at ease. Your husband playfully tapped the skull emblem on his mask. “Always a step ahead. Consider it done, love.” You offered a weak smile and chewed your lip nervously. Almost scared to end the call. Underneath the balaclava, his smirk disappeared. Your reservations could be felt even through the screen. Simon’s eyes darted around for a second before lifting his mask briefly. Your eyes connected as the usually stoic man offered you his most sincere attempt to ease your worried mind. Ashamed of him picking up on your innermost thoughts of panic, you broke eye contact. “Look at me, angel.” The beautiful shade of your orbs landed on his once more. “It’ll be alright, love. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful. Get some rest, and do your best to answer later tonight.”

“Jesus. You always know just what to say, and do you have to be so damn sexy when saying it? I just want to eat you.”

Simon dropped his mask back into place, voice lowered. With a hint of a growl, he responded, “Be sure to get that rest while I’m working, love. You’ll need the energy. I don’t care what time it is. When I get back. I want you pickin’ up on the first ring. Have that camera angle ready. ‘M going to watch you ride my pillow until you’re a shakin’, soppin’ wet, messy puddle. You’ll beg me to come. The filth that falls from my lips will be like music to your ears. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece with my words. Just to put you back together and do it all over again. You’ll be chanting the words ‘I can’t. No more, Si.’ How’s that sound, love?”

“Can you leave already? The quicker you depart, the faster you return,” you panted. “Fuck, Si. I’m so achy for you.”

“There will be no playing while I’m gone. Understood,” he asked, voice gravelly.

“Yes,” you purred.

“Yes, what,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned softly.

“Good girl. I have to go now, angel.”

“LT, wheels up in ten,” Johnny shouted from the doorway.”

“ I heard you the first time, MacTavish. Give me a fuckin’ minute.”

“Simon! Be nice,” you bristled.

Your husband turned back to the screen. He rolled his eyes as Johnny leaned in to meddle.

“Hello, dove. When are you going to leave this grumpy bastard for me,” Johnny questioned.

You started to reply with a teasing answer, but Simon cut you off with an irritated grunt.

“Gotta go, angel.”

“Okay, baby. You take care of my man, MacTavish.”

You giggled at Simon threatening Johnny while ending the call.

“MacTavish, flirt with the missus again.” Instead of ending his statement using words, Simon stared Soap down with a cold, emotionless gaze. His head tilted to the now black screen, and his hand moved to rest on one of his now re-holstered weapons. Johnny smirked, slapping a hand on Simon’s back. “That little lady’s got you head over heels LT.” Simon made no argument, just offered a grunt of agreement.

What did you think, my lovelies? Let me know in the comments! And if you enjoyed it, don't forget to reblog and share the love!

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Wasn’t sure who to tag😩…

Tagging a few of my love bugs💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @percosim @astoldbychae @theeblackmedusa @johnnyshoe @thabiddie23 @starrynite7114

…

Inner workings of my mind:

*thirty minutes after posting it-> “they hate it!”*

*takes deep breath. must fight the urge to delete it.*

😆😂🤣.

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lazysoulwriter · 2 months ago

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Smoke and Screens - Paul Mescal.

I’ve been getting some messages from you saying you wanted longer fics. So here’s my first attempt! Please let me know if you enjoyed it!

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The small, cozy apartment smelled faintly of lavender and popcorn. A warm glow from a string of fairy lights curled around the room, complementing the flicker of candles on the coffee table.

“I can’t believe it’s been this long,” Paul said as he leaned against the kitchen counter, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn cradled in one hand. He wore a loose white T-shirt and sweatpants that screamed comfort. “We used to do this every month.”

You laughed, sprawling out on the sofa and hugging a cushion to your chest. “Every two weeks, actually. But who’s counting?”

He grinned, walking over and plopping down next to you. The cushions dipped under his weight, and the familiar scent of his cologne wafted over you—clean, with a hint of cedar. “It’s been… crazy lately. The press tours, the shoots. I missed this, though. Us.”

You nodded, a pang of nostalgia tugging at your heart. You and Paul had been friends for years, long before his career skyrocketed. These movie nights had been your thing—a sacred tradition where the outside world faded, leaving just the two of you, your shared love for cinema, and far too much junk food.

Tonight, the tradition was resurrected. He had arrived an hour earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder filled with snacks and DVDs. The sight of him standing at your doorstep had been enough to make your heart stutter. You had missed him more than you’d admitted, even to yourself.

“Okay, what’s first?” you asked, gesturing to the small stack of DVDs on the coffee table.

Paul picked up the top one and waved it at you. “Thought we’d start with an old favorite.”

Your eyes lit up. “No way. ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“You love it,” he said with a shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking into that signature smile of his.

“You love it,” you shot back, grabbing a handful of popcorn as the opening credits rolled.

Two movies later, the apartment had grown quieter. The popcorn bowl was empty, your legs were stretched out on Paul’s lap, and the comforting hum of the film filled the room. Paul’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your ankle, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of.

“Pause it for a sec,” you said suddenly, sitting up.

Paul arched an eyebrow but complied, grabbing the remote. “What’s up?”

You reached over to the side table and pulled out a small tin. Inside was a neatly rolled joint. “Remember this part of the tradition?”

Paul let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Ah, so you’ve been holding onto that one, huh?”

“For special occasions,” you said, winking.

He hesitated for only a moment before grinning. “Alright, light it up.”

The joint sparked to life in your hands, and soon, the smoky aroma filled the room. You took a deep drag before passing it to him. Paul leaned back, his head tilted against the sofa as he exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

“Man,” he said, letting out a low laugh. “This takes me back.”

You smiled, resting your head against the back of the couch. “To simpler times.”

“Simpler, yeah,” he agreed. Then, after a beat, “But not better. Things have been good. Busy, but good. Still, I’ve missed… this. You.”

Your gaze shifted to him, and for the first time that evening, the air between you felt charged. His eyes, soft and a little glassy from the weed, locked onto yours. You felt your heart race, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

“I’ve missed you too,” you said softly.

Paul’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in, so close you could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Can I?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded. And then his lips were on yours—gentle at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, his hand cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss. It was soft, intoxicating, and long overdue.

The joint, forgotten, burned out in the ashtray as Paul pulled you closer. His hands found your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, and the world outside ceased to exist. The movies, the popcorn, the years of friendship—all faded into the background. There was only Paul, his lips on yours, his breath mingling with yours, and the unspoken understanding that this was a turning point.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your faces flushed.

“Well,” Paul said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “That was unexpected.”

“Was it?” you teased, still catching your breath.

He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Maybe not.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. The night stretched ahead, full of possibilities, and for the first time in a long time, you felt perfectly content.

“So,” Paul said, his voice playful. “Do we finish the movie, or…?”

You grinned, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I think the movie can wait.”

----

I would never waste a joint like that, tbh. But it's Paul

#paul mescal #paul mescal imagines #paul mescal fanfic #paul mescal fanfics #paul mescal fanfiction #imagines #fanfic #gladiator ii #normal people #paul mescal imagine #paul mescal x reader #paul mescal x y/n

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glowingmin · 8 months ago

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I HATE YOU SO MUCH /j

@deleetrix @bluury2

#glow whispers and junk #the game

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natalievoncatte · 4 months ago

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11. Emerald

That was when she saw it, faint flashes of emerald in the dark. Kara sucked in a sharp breath as she tensed. Green was the danger color. It was the pain color, the burning color, the hue of agonizing death. Even a brief flash of an unelected green glow set her nerves ablaze.

The flash was brief, there and gone.

“Kara, wait for the team.”

She tapped the comm bead in her ear. “I don’t need a team for this.”

She scanned the area with her Kryptonian sight, first x-ray then infrared, and found only the outlines of crates and old junk. No heat. No heartbeat. No threat.

Why did villains always set up in abandoned warehouses? Why not a nice downtown coffee shop? Or a movie theater?

She should count her blessings. She could be the Batman, creeping through an abandoned amusement park looking for a psychotic clown. Clark had remarked to her that Gotham had a lot of abandoned theme parks for some reason, and abandoned comedy clubs. It was almost too convenient.

Something creaked to her left and she stopped.

“This thing is dangerous, Kara. There’s been three bodies found already.”

Kara knew all that. Three victims, all drained dry and desiccated, so bereft of moisture that they cracked and crumbled when moved. The life sucked right out of them.

She knew something else: All three had been killed in front of witnesses who said the night came alive and took them… while the dead men were in the process of robbing and assaulting the witnesses.

“I’m not going to have a murderous vigilante in my town.”

“I’m not a vigilante”, a soft voice purred. “But a girl’s got to eat.”

Kara spun, scanning the warehouse. There was no one with her.

A soft scuff on the concrete behind her. She turned, throwing back her cape and raising her fists.

“Where are you?”

“Here,” the voice murmured in her ear.

Kara yelped spun, but there was no one there.

“Kara, pull back. Pull out!” Alex snapped.

“Mmmm, Kara. Ka-ra. A pretty name.”

“Show yourself!”

Kara wheeled and found the creature right in front other, inches away, grinning broadly and baring sharp fangs. Kara recoiled, dancing back a few paces, fists raised.

It was a woman, sleek and slim and dressed in a slick black suit with a black lace blouse and a choker of black diamonds around her throat. Her skin was ghostly pale and dark hair fell down her back in wages past her waist, fanned out over her shoulders. Cold emerald eyes fixed Kara to the spot, the woman’s gaze carrying an almost physical force.

“Uh,” Kara said. “Alex?”

“No, I’m Lena.”

Kara squared up. “Are you the one killing those people?”

“I’m the one taking out the trash. Is that a problem for you?”

“Yeah,” Kara snarled, “it is.”

She hesitated. This woman, this creature, had no body heat. No heartbeat. When Kara used her x-ray vision, looking for weapons or gimmicks, she saw the woman just standing there in the pale transparent world of Kara’s super sight, as if the x-rays bent around her.

“What’s the matter, stud? Come teach me a lesson.”

“You asked for it.”

Kara lunged, and her hands closed on empty air. The woman was suddenly behind her, hands on her shoulders and lips pressed to her ear.

“Too slow. Catch me if you can.”

Kara whirled, grabbing at her, but she moved so fast she blurred. It was as if she knew where Kara would move before she did.

“Hold still!” Kara snapped, fighting the rising panic twisting in her belly.”

“Kara,” Alex said, “get out of there! You’re outmatched, we need a plan.”

“She’s right.”

Another whisper in her ear. This time as Kara turned and throw a roundhouse punch the woman stood there grinning, and Kara almost pulled her blow, but when her fist was just about to connect her target simply melted, swirling into a pillar of mist that held together for a brief moment before exploding in every direction and surrounding her.

She suddenly felt surrounded, a pressure coming from every direction, and a wild surge of claustrophobic panic burst like a firebox in her chest and she cried out in shock and terror, falling wildly.

A body pressed against her from behind and hands seized her wrists. The strength that resisted her twisting attempt to escape shocked her, and then came the pain. Quick and sharp, she felt pressure on her throat before the pain as twin points lanced into her flesh.

Kara screamed, then her voice softened and collapsed into shocked moan as an ecstatic heat spread from her throat through her entire body, tingling under her skin. Her eyes grew lidded and she writhed it spread through her.

Her head lolled and she passed out.

With a jolt, Kara snapped awake. She immediately tried to rise from where she lay, but found herself weighed down by heavy chains at her wrists and ankles.

A cold but soft hand curled around her chin and this Lena filled her vision, arching down over her from where she sat straddling Kara’s hips. Her grip was gentle but shockingly strong.

“My, aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

Kara yanked hard at the chains, but they clanked and pulled at her wrists and impossibly held.

“Now now, none of that.”

Looking around, Kara frantically sought the source of her weakness- Kryptonite, a red light source, something she could attack.

“Those chains are nth metal, and there’s a sorcerous circle binding you beneath the bed.”

She was in a bedroom, lying on a four poster bed, chained down with her captor sitting in her lap, pressing her thighs against Kara’s hips.

She ran her hands up Kara’s flanks, feeling the muscles beneath the tight fabric.

“My my my, you are delicious, pet. Let me go.”

“I think not.”

“Are you going to drain me, too?”

Lena flipped down on top of her, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder. She smelled cold, somehow, like the faint scent of embers and falling leaves on an autumn night. She smiled with her soft pink lips and her emerald eyes blazed.

“I could,” she murmured. “It’s hard not to. You are the sweetest prey I’ve ever sampled, and your blood sings in me. A taste of honey is worse than none at all.”

Kara ignored the feeling of this person lying on top of her, one long leg still thrown across her belly, calf hooked around her hip. She was stroking lazy circles over the crest on Kara’s uniform, sharp nails teasing her through the fabric. She could have shredded it if she wanted, and liked the flesh too.

“You’ll never admit it, but I can feel how much you like being overwhelmed. Don’t you?”

Kara ground her teeth. “No.”

Lena smiled again. “Isn’t it hard, being Supergirl? Being so tough all the time, always swaggering around with your hands on your hips? Doesn’t part of you want to relax? Let someone else take charge?”

“What the hell do you want?”

Lena sighed dramatically and rolled off her, and her absence was near painful. She had to be using some trick, trying to control her. Kara had to stop herself from whimpering when Lena laid on the bed beside her, head propped on her hand.

“Can’t I just want to admire you and those beautiful muscles of yours?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Maybe. Hear me out.”

“No.”

“I need your help.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You wouldn’t listen. Besides, where’s the fun in that?”

“Fine,” Kara huffed, staring up at the tin ceiling. “What do you want?”

“There is a master vampire, far more powerful and deadly than I am, and far older. He plans to poison the sun and free all vampires from the tyranny of daylight. He’ll declare himself an emperor and rule your world.”

“The hell he will. I’ll stop him, with Superman.”

The vampire laughed, a soft, sad chuckle.

“Oh, darling. Your cousin won’t be of any help to us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“There is no us.”

“Dumping me on the first date, love?”

Kara rolled her eyes.

“Clark isn’t going to help us, Kara,” said the vampire.

Kara’s head shot up. “What? What did you say?”

She smiled.

“The master vampire has already made your cousin his thrall, love.”

“Who… who is this guy?”

“We both have so many names, but you know him as Lex. Lex Luthor.”

“What?!”

Lena moved closer, her stunning green eyes full of genuine fear.

“He sent me here to enthrall you. You’re the only chance I have. Please, I’m begging you. He’s a monster. A world under his rule will be an absolute nightmare. Unless you want to end up chained to his throne as a trophy you have to help me.”

There was either genuine fear in her voice, or she was excellent at faking it. Kara couldn’t rely on her super-senses.

Her jaw clenched.

“Let me go. No more tricks, no more games. Let me up and we’ll talk.”

Lena snapped her fingers and the bonds fell from Kara’s wrists.

“Done.”

Kara lunged across the bed and twisted, pinning her down.

“My turn,” Kara said, her eyes blazing with red sun fury. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh darling,” Lena purred. “You are delightful. I could get used to this.”

“Stop that,” Kara snarled.

Lena licked her lips, pale pink tongue flashing.

“Alright. Okay. I’ll be serious. We have to kill him. We have to kill him before he ends everything.”

“I don’t kill. I swore an oath.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Kara huffed.

“Fine. We can still defeat him. I think you and I could take over the world.”

“There is no you and I. I’ll help you and then you’ll answer for what you did.”

“I told you, a girl’s gotta eat.”

“Lena!”

“Oh, I like that. Say my name.”

“Le- No!”

Lena sighed, and ground herself up against Kara.

“I mean it. Stop that.”

Lena swallowed, pale throat bobbing. She fixed Kara with her piercing green eyes.

“I didn’t ask to be a monster. I wasn’t given a choice. I was forced.”

Kara felt a twist in her stomach, cold and brittle. She drew back her hands and freed Lena, stepping back off the bed.

“I’ll help you, but I have conditions. They’re non-negotiable.”

“And they are?”

“No more killing.”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“We agree on everything we do first. Don’t lay a hand on me without my permission again.”

A soft smile curled her lips. “Affirmative.”

Kara crossed her arms. Lena was openly admiring her, eyes roaming up and down her frame.

“Stop looking at me like I’m your next meal.”

“But darling, it’s not my fault that you look good enough to eat. Shall we get to it, then?”

Kara sighed. “Yes.”

“A Super and a Vampire, taking on the world. We just might survive.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #spookycorp #vampirecorp #Lena is a vampire #Lena is a tease #Lena wants to taste Kara #can you blame her #supercorptober 2024 #supercorptober2024 #supercorptober

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chaos-chloe · 3 months ago

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A Night of Laughter

Summary: A Clooless Sleepover

TW: Flirting, kisses, sexual innuendo, lmk if i missed anything <3

11.8k

“Welcome to the Sleepover Stream.” Puffer said switching the computer screen over to the camera. Show the setup of the couch, Grizzy all the way over to the left, then Puffer and Droid in the middle, then Pezzy on the end on the right side of the couch.

“Goodnight””Yeah goodnight” was heard from all the boys around. “Now, we will have ___ join u later, she is just at work at the moment, you know saving lives and shit” Puffer says with a lovey-dovey smile while looking at his phone, most likely the text message between them.

“Also, we are stating this now and it is a command in chat, !____, she is a cuddler, she is always cold, she is a friend to all of us, we are NOT dating. You will see that she will pick someone when she joins us, to start off the stream and could change within the night.” Puffer explains to the stream so no will start anything crazy. “Yeah, it will be like we pass her around, but not like that dudes.” Droid pops in laughing at his statement and everyone else joins in.

“She texted me about 5 minutes ago, that she is on her way home now with food, possibly if the restaurant is open, if not she will call one of us.” Grizzy pipes in as he is checking his phone, to inform the guys and chat.

“Alright now that is out of the way, mods you know what to do with messy chatters, anyway I don't have anything else to say but “goodnight”; but yeah, no one looks at my ass I gotta lay down.” Puffer walks over to his assigned spot to get comfy and try to sleep.

“It is a full moon ladies and gents.” Droid talks into his blue mic, and then everyone starts talking over each other to make sure that the stream could hear everyone.

“I was not joking, 4 dudes, 1 girl, later on, one couch made into one bed. We are all snuggly and cuddling.” Puffer says. “You know the whole deal-uh-mods, can you update the ‘!media’, it is a $10 deal. You know the whole deal-uhh-we will be here ‘till 6a.m, probably, that's probably the whole deal.”

“Your monthly prices are increasing, Netflix, NOOO!” Droid screams as a joke. “Oh, it's fine ___ pays for it.” Pezzy shrugs it off with a laugh.

Outside, the full moon cast a soft glow through the curtains, illuminating the laughter-filled space where the four boys now prepared for a night of friendly chaos. Just as whispers turned to the soft crackling of a bag of chips,a notification chimed on Puffer’s phone.

“Hold on, boys! Looks like she’s here,” Puffer exclaimed, sitting straight up on the couch. “Let’s welcome our special guest!”

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing you, their friend with your arms happily burdened by takeout bags. You had warm, bright energy, and though you were tired from saving lives during your shift, your excitement about the sleepover helped wipe the exhaustion from the majority of your face.

“Hey, everyone! You guys better have saved me some snacks!” you teased, setting the bags down with a flourish.

“Never! We starved ourselves for you!” Grizzy said dramatically, clutching his stomach in an exaggerated manner.

With playful nudges and laughter filling the air, they welcomed you to the couch as everyone settled in with their food. Soon enough, the stream chat exploded with welcomes and requests for their own food critiques, and you happily obliged, sharing your favorites while making the occasional snarky comment about how these guys lived on junk food alone

“Okay, I need a quick shower and a change of clothes, I need my pajamas.” You say walking out of the frame, going upstairs towards the bathroom with the nicer shower.

As you made your way upstairs, the sound of laughter and lighthearted banter drifted up from the living room, filling your heart with warmth. Your friends had transformed their cozy, cluttered house into a makeshift living room entertainment hub, complete with gray cushions piled on an oversized couch, and takeout in the background spread all over the counter in the kitchen.

You chuckled to yourself, thinking about the chaos that had unfolded earlier. The reactors—your friends—were skilled at creating a sensational atmosphere, drawing in viewers from all corners of the internet. But you need a moment of solitude before diving back into the social whirlwind, and you relish the thought of slipping into your most comfortable pajamas.

The bathroom reflected your style—a blend of cozy warmth and cold decor. The walls were adorned with different towels, and a collection of rubber ducks lined the back edge of the sink, each representing a different inside joke shared among friends. After a quick shower, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy robe but your heart raced with excitement at reminiscing about the delightful chaos downstairs.

Once dressed in your pajamas—a vibrant silk pair decorated with a cherry blossom print—you took a moment to look in the mirror. “Alright, showtime,” you whispered to yourself, towel drying your hair. With all the anticipation bubbling up inside, you made your way back down the stairs.

As you were coming around the corner, you ran into a green fluffy chest. It was Droid in his lucky charm care bear onesie that he was matching Pezzy. You grabbed his left arm so you wouldn't fall back on the stairs. He grabbed your elbow that was holding onto his arm, and his other arm quickly grabbed your left hip to give you extra support.

“Well, well don't you look gorgeous in those pajamas, babes.” Droid flirts with you, as your face turns into a tomato.

“Oh, stop it. These pj’s are nothing, this is my favorite set though” You say with a silly slap on his arm as you let him go. You walk past him, to head back into the living room, to be met with the rest of the guys just chilling.

The living room was filled with the atmosphere of friendly chaos, laughter bubbling up like a fizzy soda. The vibrant lights of the TV flickered energetically as Buzz Lightyear's theatrics continued to blast from the speakers. You shot a sideways glance at the trio that surrounded you, their faces oscillating between amusement and mischief.

“BUZZ LIGHTYEAR- THE WORLD'S GREATEST SUPERHERO! THE WORLD'S GREATEST TOY!!”

“Jesus, what the hell was that?!” I yelled after almost dying from a heart attack, my heart still beating out of sync.

“Oh, ___ that is the cursed Buzz Lightyear that Puffer talks about.” Pezzy says, still looking at the TV screen. “Ooh look at __-she looks so pretty-love that set- what are yall on about” Pezzy, Puffer and Grizzy all turned their heads to look at me looking at the screen, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them.

Droid, ever the smooth talker, walked back into the living room, his green fluffy onesie puffing out in all the right places. “Cursed or not, that Buzz has got nothing on your designer sleepwear,” he quipped, his eyes glinting with playful mischief with a wink as he climbed over the couch in between Puffer and Pezzy.

“Designer?” you shot back with a smile, retrieving your phone from your pocket, half-expecting to land a lighthearted jab at him. “I think you meant ‘Off Brand-Tik Tok Shop pajamas’.”

“Oh, come on, don’t sell yourself short!” Grizzy chimed in, his wide grin nearly splitting his face. “That set is practically a fashion statement. I mean, who else could pull it off quite like you?” Grizzy was eye googling you as if he was in a trance.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help cracking a smile. As the banter flew, you stepped further into the living room, trying to escape the fiery blush that was still coloring your cheeks.

“Just for that compliment, you are getting the cuddles first Grizz, move over Puffer.” You say, walking in front of the camera, so you can get comfy. Grizzy opens his arms and pats his chest so you lay your head on him.

As you settled into the inviting embrace of Grizzy, the warmth of his heavy blanket enveloped you like a soft bed. The moment felt both cozy and slightly silly, especially with the anticipation of the next loud notification or media share to go off on stream.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Puffer protested, dramatically crossing his arms and pretending to pout. “I was totally first to claim the first cuddle!”

“Welp, Grizzy was the first one to compliment me, so you should have spoken faster.” I say giggling, while snuggling into Grizzy’s side, he wrapped his arm around me where his arm was resting down my back and my leg was propped up on his legs.

“That's gonna be a long ass outro-” “Why is there special?” Grizzy interrupted me as the next media share popped up on screen. “Aye-ya-ya” Grizzy shook his head in disappointment, but then enjoyed the vibes that the song brings. He started banging or shaking his head left to right while he picked up my arm to join him.

Puffer than exclaims, “Bro can you get comfy!?” as he throws up his right hand in offendness. “I got a lot of things.”Droid responds, not giving two-shitsas he was grabbing his stuffed animals and pillow pet, Jerry/Jeffery.

“Why do you have so much shit?” Puffer asked in a tone of “what the hell my guy” “This motherfucker got too much shit.” “You have 1,2,3 toys with you” Puffer counts as he picks up the bear wearing blue and throws it at the end of the couch.

“NO, that’s tippers, no tippers.” Droid yells in shock retrieving tippers, “That one is personal bro.” Grizzy jumps into Droid’s aid. “Yeah dont hurt tippers again puff.” I say reaching over to Droid, unfurling from Grizzy.

“That one is not from Target, that one is from family memories-Whoa, whoa whatcha doin?” Grizzy says being caught off guard from Puffer lifting up the blanket, revealing that Grizzy’s hand migrated down from my back to my ass.

“I was testing it but what are you two doing?” Puffer says slightly offended Grizzy, making playful assumptions. “Cuddling.” Grizzy said while tucking the blanket underneath me since Puffer made me cold while lifting the blanket. “Hey now, I was cuddling with my teddy bear so shush it.” You say with a big smile on our faces as Grizzy was laughing at my innocent play on his name.

“When's the orgy? We could do it right now.” Pezzy read a comment in the chat and answered like his life depended on it. “Huh?” “Nah, that's for a different stream, different shoot.” Droid says calmly shutting that comment down. Grizzy tilted his head down to whisper in your ear, “You know he ain't wrong.” He looked at you, like you are a five star meal. Your face lit up like the night sky, after you fully comprehended what he was talking about. “You are right, but who got us caught in the first place?” playing snipping back at him with a small wink.

“Chat, it's 8:30 p.m we are not going to bed yet.” Puffer sniped at chat, “Mmm who's not going to bed?” Grizzy asked into his microphone. “Damn i had my head lean back, eyes closed, ___ laying on me, I’m ready even though i woke up 3 hours ago.” You shook your head and closed your eyes, snuggled closer to Grizzy.As the soft glow of the screen illuminated the room, you drifted deeper into slumber, feeling Grizzy’s gentle presence wrap around you like an additional layer of comfort. The cozy kingdom was alive with voices, jokes, and the occasional burst of laughter, but the soothing hum of camaraderie worked its magic, and your eyelids feel heavy .Grizzy lifted the blanket up blocking his face and yours, he did it to make sure you were all tucked in and to give you a kiss on your head.

“Who’s gonna fall asleep first?” Pezzy read off a chat

“Looks like we have a winner already,” Puffer said with a theatrical sigh, his voice teasing and light. “We should've made a pool for money instead of sleep cycles.”

“Can you imagine the chaos? We might as well place bets on who’ll bring the snacks next!” Pezzy chuckled, glancing over at Grizzy, who was still keeping you tucked in together. “But seriously, was anyone expecting ___ to be the first to crash? She's practically a professional napper!”

Grizzy couldn’t help but beam at that remark, glancing down at you with a smile that made his eyes twinkle. “I don’t think it’s her fault at all,” he replied softly, brushing a stray hair away from your forehead, “Work this week has been brutal, and I think she deserves every peaceful moment she can snag.”

“Oh, we see what you’re doing, Grizzy! Trying to earn some brownie points, huh?” Pezzy snapped back, tapping the table dramatically, earning a round of chuckles from the others.

“Not brownie points, but maybe brownie treats later?” Grizzy leaned back into the couch, aware that the usual dynamic of friendly banter was in full swing. He felt proud to be part of the group, though mostly for the reason that they charged the room with laughter and silliness.

“You’re kind of the poster child for cozy tonight, my friend,” Droid chimed in, adjusting his position to lean forward a bit. “I mean, look at you! Snuggling a human burrito over there while the rest of us are…you know…hustlin’ for superiority with snacks.”

In that instant, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Everyone turned their attention to you, your face partially concealed behind Grizzy’s blanket fort. Laughter morphed into softer, gentle smiles as the affection grew palpable.

“Look at her—no care in the world,” Droid said, the hint of admiration framing his tone. “That’s what we’re all running toward, I think—a moment of peace amidst the chaos.”

“Exactly! So let’s make sure that they don’t fully ruin it until she wakes up from a jumpscare.” Grizzy asserted, his voice gentle yet firm, maintaining the protective energy that had become a part of your evening slumber.

“Aye mods, that was a $3 one, nuh uh we ain't doing that.” Puffer disciplined mods, “Wait, did i not save the changes, did it save at $3?” Puffer was talking out loud, while scooting forward to look at the laptop setup settings. As he was scooting forward, ___ fell into the space in between her and Puffer, which ultimately made her snuggle into Puffer’s warm spot. Then a media share went off, sent Puffer back in shock and he ended up landing on ____.

A startled gasp escaped your lips as Puffer’s unexpected weight landed on you, the warmth of the cozy blanket now doubling in heat. The sudden shift jolted you awake, eyes blinking rapidly as you took in the comical chaos that had just unfolded.

“Whoa! Puffer! What in the world?” you half-laughed, half-yelped, your heart racing. You felt like a caught fish, sandwiched between Puffer’s vibrant laughter and the remnants of your dream.

Puffer leaned more onto you as a joke, a wide grin stretching across his face, “I swear, that was not part of the plan! It was the mods’ fault—totally their fault!” He gestured dramatically, as though blaming an invisible foe for the mishap.

Still groggy, you rubbed your eyes, trying to reorient yourself to the dim light of the cozy spot. Grizzy chuckled beside you, the warmth of his arm still lingering, “Looks like you officially lost your first round of the Cuddle. Puffer just shrekted you!” Puffer got off of you and fixed the media share cost on the settings. After he saved the changes, he saw his new dilemma of you now being his cuddle buddy. He got situated in a new spot, and dragged you over into his left side, got you into the same position as earlier but with Grizzy.

Pezzy standing up from his cozy spot and striking a pose like a game show host. “And for our next enchanting act, we have ‘Puffer and ____ vs. the Legendary Media Share’! How many times can they be surprised before bedtime?”

“That’s a highly questionable title!” you protested, your eyes still adjusting to the light. “Shouldn’t we call it ‘Sleeping Beauty vs. Puffer’s Clumsiness’ instead?” “He gets scared more than anyone else, I wouldn't be surprised if I move within 10 minutes.” You say groggily, trying not to yawn.Yet, the moment his attention turned to adjusting his position, you felt the heat rising. Puffer, with a swift motion, had adjusted you perfectly into his space. You were now practically sprawled on top of him, the cozy blanket shrouding both of you in softness.

The cozy ambiance suffused the space, wrapping each of you in the warmth of friendship—and a tinge of something deeper. As Puffer’s lips brushed your forehead, his soft whisper hung in the air, “We could just stay like this forever and not move.” With those words, everything felt suspended in a perfect moment—a bubble that seemed to hide you both from the outside world.

But soon, reality crept back in, whimsical in its way. You giggled softly, “I agree, but I know within the next five media shares, you will jump multiple times and I will get annoyed.” With a playful spirit, you leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Every few moments, the cozy fort filled with the soft background noise of laughter and chatter, punctuated by the hum of technology. You found yourself drifting in and out of sleep, half-awake and still enveloped in that delicious warmth, lulled by Puffer’s presence.

Then, as if on cue, the next media share began: an old video that had seemingly become a legend among your group—the classic AAA battery scare. You barely had enough awareness to brace yourself. Just as the video intensified, the chilling build-up reached its climax, and in true comedic fashion, an abrupt and bass-boosted scream blasted from the speakers, shaking you from your slumber.

Puffer’s reaction was instantaneous. It was like watching a startled kitten; he flinched fiercely, his body jerking from the shock. His hips shot up from the couch—directly colliding with yours. You hadn’t seen that coming, and the unexpected shift made you gasp, which unexpectedly slipped into a moan before you could catch it.

“Oh! Uhm… I mean—” you scrambled to cover yourself up, attempting to transform the sound into a groan of dissatisfaction. “Why does this always happen?!”

Puffer’s eyes were wide, shock mixing with something else as he stammered, “I—uh—wow! That was unexpected!” His cheeks had taken on a deep shade of crimson, a comical juxtaposition to his otherwise bold nature.

Grizzy, catching the situation, erupted into laughter, nearly doubling over, “Did that just happen? Puffer, you’ve officially shrekted ____ again!”

“Shrekted" is NOT a verb! Stop that!” you protested, though your own laughter bubbled to the surface, unable to resist the charm of the moment. You pushed lightly against Puffer’s chest, movement still affectionate even as your heart raced. “I’m fine, really!”

Puffer chuckled, leaning back slightly, a teasing glimmer in his eye. "Sure, you are! If by 'fine' you mean completely flustered and unable to string together a coherent sentence," he shot back playfully, enjoying the light banter between you. The corners of his lips quirked up as he regarded you, his chest still buzzing from the scare, but now accompanied by a distinctly different kind of adrenaline.

“Okay, okay, maybe that’s true,” you admitted, the heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to dodge his playful gaze. Your heart raced not just from the shock of the video but from the fuzzy warmth of being so close to him. “But you have to admit that was a shocking surprise!”

“Oh, I’ll definitely admit that,” he replied, a mock-serious tone underscoring his words. “But can we just appreciate the real surprise? It’s not every day you accidentally fuse cuddling with an accidental collision of our hips!”

Your heart was racing and your face was heating up with fire, “You know what, Imma call it here. Imma rolls over and claims Droid as my next victim to cuddle with.”

Puffer burst into laughter, his dark curls bouncing as he tilted back, clearly entertained by your dramatic declaration. “Oh no! Not Droid! Anything but that!” He feigned horror, clutching his chest. As you shifted your position and draped yourself onto Droid, pulling him into a warm hug, Puffer’s laughter echoed behind you.

Droid grinned, looking between you and Puffer. “You just made the right choice. I have unlimited cuddles available, and I promise they come with complimentary warmth and safety!” His tone was light-hearted, and the comfort radiated from him as you nestled deeper into his side.

“Don’t worry, Puffer,” Droid assured him, placing a reassuring hand on your back. “I can share my cuddle time! There’s plenty of warmth to go around. Besides, I’ll make sure to wrap you in soft blankets if you get too scared again.”

With laughter bubbling in the air, the atmosphere morphed into one of joy and connection. Your playful exchange transitioned effortlessly into a comfortable mellow where you found joy in just being close, knowing that this was the somewhat perfect evening.

“Friends with benefits, am I right?” Droid talked softly into your ear, glancing your way, his eyes sparkling with glimmer. “Now we’re really getting into dangerous territory!” you shot back with a gentle smile, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you again. Cuddles were one thing—implied ‘benefits’ was a whole other ball game. “I mean, we could go to that territory, I heard what Grizzy said to you when Pezzy mentioned a group orgy.” Droid sighed, his body sagging at tenison releasing from holding information in for so long.

“I mean, I was joking around with Grizzy. Do you all feel that way?” You questioned scaredly, almost wanting to run away, with innocence just dripping from your figure.

Droid chuckled, the playful glimmer in his eyes intensifying as he leaned in a little closer. “You know we’re just teasing you, right? Or…maybe we’ve all been too comfortable tonight.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, making your heart race with the implications. “Let’s just say, when it comes to cuddles, the lines can blur, and sometimes the jokes take on a life of their own.”

You furrowed your brow, both curious and slightly apprehensive. “But it’s all in fun, right? Like, we’re just friends, just cuddling. Right?” The question lingered in the warm air, inviting exploration while the cozy glow of the room danced with laughter around you.

“Sure! Friends with some cuddly benefits!” Droid replied playfully, spinning the phrase into something almost whimsical. “But there’s a difference between joking around and actually having feelings. Trust me, no one wants things to get complicated tonight.” He shot a quick glance towards Puffer and Grizzy, who were currently locked in a mock argument over the significant merits of their favorite childhood cartoon characters.

Your heart beat faster at the thought of complicating the easy relationship you had fostered within your circle. The cuddles, the laughter, the ridiculous moments—they formed a harmonious rhythm that you cherished deeply. “I don’t want to ruin anything by taking it further. What if we get tangled up and something happens?”

Droid surprisingly relaxed, a sincere expression resting on his features. “You’re not ruining anything. We all care about each other, and this is all part of exploring what those feelings mean. Just know that at the end of the day, I think we’re all here to make memories together.”

You studied his eyes, a mixture of warmth and concern glimmering back at you. It felt comforting, grounding you amidst the whirlwinds of banter and blissful chaos. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Awkward?” Droid laughed lightly, ruffling his hair, which somehow made him look even more adorable than he already was. “Have you met this group? Come on now, look at us doing a sleepover stream on twitch.”

Pezzy, overhearing your conversation, wiggled his eyebrows comically. “Oh yeah, the king of awkward moments is right here! Remember when Grizzy attempted to serenade ___ with that old love song? Classic!” He let out a loud laugh, prompting everyone else to remember and join in, sharing their own favorite embarrassing stories.

Soon, the atmosphere shifted again as shared experiences and playful anecdotes piled one on top of the other, and the earlier tension fizzled out like a quickly deflating balloon. You felt lighter with each laugh, the worries that had clouded your mind slipping away like mist under the morning sun.

But as the laughter echoed, a small thought flickered in your mind. You noticed Droid’s teasing smirk when you turned to him, the light in his eyes hinting that maybe—just maybe—there was something more beneath the surface. Something neither of you had fully explored yet.

You snuggled back against Droid’s shoulder and allowed the comforting chaos to swirl around you, grateful for the journey ahead while keeping the precious moments close enough to hold. As the soft, ambient sounds of Minecraft lo-fi music filled the room, a calm veil descended over the group. The chill vibes wrapped around each of you like a cozy embrace, and everyone instinctively shifted closer, creating a warm cocoon on the couch. The flickering glow of the screen cast gentle shadows, enhancing the magical atmosphere of the moment.

You felt relaxed as you leaned more into Droid, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile as you listened to the soothing beats that lingered in the air. "Welcome to our little sanctuary of peace and cozy adventures!" he declared dramatically, causing everyone to chuckle as they settled deeper into the comfort.

Pezzy, with his signature non-mischief, grabbed his Yoshi plushie and shut his eyes, enjoying the peace that the lo-fi music sung into the living room. “Lo-fi vibes—no chaos allowed!” he whispered playfully into the mic, everyone shook their heads in agreement. You rolled over to the left, the area right in between Pezzy and Droid; but still snuggled into Droid.

Not long into the mellow playlist, another media share kicked in,ocean waves to fall asleep too. As the soothing sounds of ocean waves rippled through the room, an air of tranquility settled. Soft whispers echoed with quiet laughter as eyelids grew heavy, and people nestled deeper into the comfort of each other. Just as you began to drift away to thoughts of sandy beaches and the gentle hush of the sea, the peaceful moment was abruptly shattered by the unmistakable opening chords of a familiar song. The sudden shift from tranquility to chaos was jarring, and you couldn’t help but erupt into laughter as the upbeat rhythm filled the space, shaking everyone out of their mellow zones.

"Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down!" rang out, the classic Rick Astley hit blasting full volume like an air horn in the serene atmosphere. The shock of the sudden upbeat energy threw everyone into disarray, pulling laughter and startled reactions from every corner.

“Thanks Chat, now I’m limp as fuck,” Droid blurted out amidst the chaos, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, but you could feel the playfulness bubbling beneath the surface, igniting a cheerful atmosphere that was impossible to resist.

“Droid, don’t lie now! You have __ laying on you. Ain’t no way your limp,” Grizzy shot back, incredulity mixed with mirth in his voice. He nudged Droid with exaggerated gestures, making a scene as he pointed accusingly at the two of you.

Droid turned to you, his eyes dancing with humor as he leaned a bit closer. "Hey, what can I say? The presence of such cuteness takes all the energy out of a guy!" The banter filled the space with warmth, but the comment sent a delightful thrill racing through you.

You chuckled softly, trying to play it cool but feeling your cheeks warm at his words. “Well, if I’m causing cosmic energy depletion, maybe it’s time I step back.” You pretended to shift away, feigning an exaggerated pout, but the playful glimmer in your eyes revealed your true intention—staying right where you were.

The playful atmosphere was abruptly hijacked as the voice of Buzz Lightyear boomed through the speakers with a theatrical flourish, bursting forth like a cannonball into a calm pool. “BUZZ LIGHTYEAR—THE WORLD’S GREATEST SUPERHERO! THE WORLD’S GREATEST TOY!!” The announcement crashed over everyone like a wave, and panic ensued as hearts raced and laughter erupted in equal measure.

Everyone leaped from their spots, startled out of their cozy moments like startled deer, eyes wide and pulses quickening. Droid shot upwards and nearly knocked over the bowl of chips that had been sitting precariously close. “What was that?!” he exclaimed, gripping his chest as if to stop the rapidly beating heart within.

“WHY DOES BUZZ HAVE TO YELL LIKE THAT?!” Grizzy cried out, half-laughing and half-mocking, as he waved his arms dramatically, trying to rein in his own thumping heart. “I almost forgot I wasn’t in a horror movie!”

“Seriously, that’s not a greeting! It’s an announcement of doom!” Pezzy followed up, gripping the edge of the couch, eyes darting as if expecting something to jump out at him. “I thought I was going to get drafted for a secret mission or something!”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, your laughter mingling with theirs as you tried to regain composure from the unexpected jump scare. “Who knew Buzz was such an adrenaline booster? Maybe he truly is a superhero!”

“Yeah, the kind of superhero who gives you a heart attack,” Droid managed to joke, his breath still hitching as he tried to steady himself. “What’s next? Is Lightning McQueen going to come racing in at full speed?”

Grizzy, feigning an air of deliberation, responded dramatically, “Lightning McQueen would totally give me a heart attack too! Someone, please—bring back the calming ocean waves!”

Pezzy, still trying to catch his breath, planted his hands on his hips and pretended to give an impassioned speech to the ceiling. “I demand a safe space! A tranquil zone where no animated characters can yell at me suddenly. Buzz Lightyear is not invited! Also, I need to pee, so I'm going to pee. I’ll be back.” Pezzy says storming off to the ground level bathroom.

As the remnants of laughter began to dissolve and the soothing notes of a tranquil song from Avatar: The Last Airbender filled the room, a comforting atmosphere settled back in. The peaceful melody wrapped around you like a warm embrace, restoring serenity after the chaos of the earlier jump scare.

Just then, Pezzy emerged from the bathroom, still adjusting to the calm that had enveloped the gathering. He approached his designated spot only to discover a blanket of fluff and warmth—___ had claimed his territory, your form curled up comfortably in his absence on the couch. You could see a flicker of faux outrage cross his face.

With an exaggerated sigh of mock dismay, he declared, “Oh, the betrayal! My very own spot has been hijacked!” As if on cue, he flung his beloved Yoshi plushie down to the floor in a dramatized act of protest. The plushie landed with a soft thump, as though it understood his anguish.

Not one to let a minor setback get him down, Pezzy then decided to take matters into his own hands. He sidestepped the occupied space, hopping over the back of the couch with surprising agility. It was like watching an acrobat perform a daring maneuver, a mix of calculated confidence and carefree spirit.

With one foot landing just beside you, the warmth of his body pressed against yours as he gracefully settled down. You immediately found comfort in this new arrangement, body half awake, half asleep—a cozy blend of tranquility created by the soft music and the warmth radiating from Pezzy’s presence.

“Ahh, this is much better,” he sighed contentedly, sinking into the cushions beside you. The slight weight of him made the rest of the world fade away—a perfect addition to the relaxed ambiance. It was as if you both were enveloped in a personal bubble of calm.

“Mmm, this isn’t bad at all,” you murmured sleepily, shifting just enough to nestle against him. It felt effortless, as if you’d both found your own comfortable spots within the vastness of the couch.

Moments naturally drifted by as you both closed your eyes slightly, letting the music wash over you. Pezzy’s warm presence kept you grounded, a gentle reminder that amidst laughter, chaos, and unpredictability, tranquility could also bloom.

As the peaceful ambiance enveloped you, the soothing notes of Avatar gradually faded, replaced by a sudden jarring bass that erupted through the speakers. The iconic Jellyfish Jam from SpongeBob SquarePants kicked in, amplified to a degree that could send a shiver down one’s spine, bass boosted to the point where it felt like a mini earthquake had struck the living room.

Pezzy jolted upright, eyes wide with incredulity. “What is happening?!” he exclaimed, smirking at the absurdity of the situation. The infectious rhythm thumped through the walls, drowning out your shared cocoon of tranquility. “This is definitely not the calming wave we signed up for!”

You burst out laughing, the previous serene atmosphere getting hijacked yet again by the wild energy of SpongeBob's carefree tune. There was something about the slapstick charm of the yellow sponge and his jellyfishing escapades that ignited an avalanche of laughter among your friends, who were just beginning to wake up from their own cozy states.

You were the first to join the riot, your smiles turning into giggles as you bounced slightly in your area “This is fantastic! Nothing like the Jellyfish Jam to get your heart pumping!” you exclaimed, adjusting your position to dance a little, all while draping the blanket like a party shawl.

feeling Pezzy’s laughter resonate beside you. “I’m not ready to dance!” he joked, throwing his hands up,moving his body slightly to the beat. “We can’t just let the jellyfish groove without us?”

The magnetic rhythm had lured everyone in, and before long, Grizzy and Droid had jumped up, imitating the jellyfish’s animated movements, arms flopping as they wiggled about like they were swimming through an imaginary ocean. “Look at me! I’m a jellyfish!” Grizzy declared with mocking grandeur, causing even more laughter among the crowd.

As the frantic jellyfish antics faded away into memory, you found your spot back on the couch, a soft cocoon of warmth and laughter. Pezzy's presence, wrapped around you like a gentle hug, cradled your senses, balancing the previous chaos with a serene comfort. The ambient sound of giggles and breathy whispers settled in as everyone slipped under their blankets, a colorful patchwork of fabric draped over the entire group like a whimsical safety net.

The next hour unfolded as a series of delightful segments filled with ridiculous videos and infectious laughter that punctuated the air like confetti. Each new media share was a surprise, an unexpected gem of comedic gold that pulled everyone’s attention back to the screen with wide eyes and stifled snickers. Until Puffer saw one of his Mods in chat spamming that the media share was broken.

As the last video came to an end, the screen suddenly froze, leaving everyone in a momentary state of confusion. The room was filled with a buzz of idle chatter, punctuating the silence as everyone wondered what went wrong. Puffer, who had been seated near the laptop, squinted at the screen, gauging the situation with an air of determination.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” he declared, rising with confidence, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Someone get the popcorn; it’s time for Puffer to troubleshoot!”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you knew this was going to be an adventure. Puffer leaned over the laptop, clicking and typing excitedly as if he were about to save the world from a digital catastrophe. He manipulated the mouse wildly, attempting various approaches with a combination of trial and error. “Okay, let’s try refreshing… or maybe it wants a new video input?” he muttered to himself, his hands moving swiftly.

A few awkward clicks later, he turned to the group, expression both focused and slightly sheepish. “If anyone has a higher power, now would be a good time to channel it!” The laughter that erupted was unanimous—everyone loved Puffer’s relentless optimism even as the digital drama continued.

Finally, after some tinkering and a few dead-end attempts, Puffer’s face lit up with triumph as the media share screen flickered back to life. “Aha! I knew my infinite wisdom would prevail!” he proclaimed dramatically, arms raised like a conquering hero.

The moment quickly shifted back to the screen, but then Puffer paused mid-victory to take notice of something on his screen. His brow furrowed for a second before a mischievous grin spread across his face, and he leaned back slightly. “Um, you guys might want to check this out,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful suspicion.

Curious, everyone turned to see what Puffer was pointing at on the couch, to reveal glimpses of cozy moments between you and Pezzy. Much to your embarrassment, there you were, all snuggled up against him with a look that spoke volumes of comfort and warmth. His arm was draped casually around your shoulder, and the camera had captured that innocent moment of intimacy as Pezzy's hand rested underneath your shirt, resting lightly on your stomach.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks like a rushing tide, suddenly hyper-aware of the playful gaze of your friends. Laughter echoed around the room, some playful teasing notes rising above the joyful cacophony.

“Oh come on, look at that! That’s beyond cuddly!” Droid added with a mocking shake of his head, clearly enjoying the fun of this unexpected exposure.

Pezzy chuckled, apparently somewhat unfazed by the scrutiny, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he nudged you playfully. “What can I say? Sometimes you just need a snack and some comfort,” he declared with a faux-seriousness that made the room erupt in laughter again.

“Yeah, snacks being you!” Puffer added, delighting in the playful atmosphere he’d inadvertently highlighted.

The embarrassment lingered lightly like a blush on your cheeks, but amidst the teasing, you couldn’t help but smile. There was something genuinely nice about the moment, about being comfortable with friends who accepted you exactly as you were, flaws and all.

You decided to embrace the light-hearted banter. “Hey, cuddling is a vital part of survival! Everybody knows that!” you retorted defiantly. “How else can one survive a full hour of media sharing without strong cuddle support?”

The laughter that rippled through the group felt like a warm embrace, transforming what could have been an awkward moment into another cherished memory. You snuggled further into Pezzy’s side, joining in on the fun. After all, this was all in good spirit, and the camaraderie within the group only seemed to deepen that night.

As the media share slid from clips of fluffy puppies tumbling in a garden to cheeky cat videos performing their own brand of shenanigans, the mood escalated into a riot of laughter and squeals. Pezzy often set the tone—his laughter was contagious, his presence an anchor of joy. Everyone felt at home, and as you snuggled further into Pezzy’s side, a warm serenity washed over you—this was your tribe, your family.

Puffer, ever the leader, had finally solved the media share app's quirks, and the next clip was ready to roll. The mischievous glint in his eye hinted at the good-spirited chaos to come. He pressed play, and instantly, the room filled with the unexpected sound of thumping music that matched every beat of your twerking exploits, captured gleefully from your social media.

"Whoa! Who knew you had those moves?" Grizzy exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and lust, which earned a round of jeers from the others.

As the video played, each rhythmic sway drew exaggerated gasps and groans from Pezzy and Puffer, while Grizzy’s playful taunting escalated into outright praise. Each twist and turn had surfed a wave of shock and delight, and Droid, now wide awake, stood frozen, mouth agape. You caught a glimpse of his expression, a mixture of awe and amusement, like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.

The atmosphere in the room shifted to a vibrant blend of energy and frisky as the video showcased your surprise dance moves, each beat pulsating with a life of its own. With every sway, Pezzy dramatically clutched his heart, feigning restraint from bursting into wild applause, while Puffer leaned in, eyes wide, caught somewhere between admiration and mischief. Grizzy,

could hardly contain himself, erupting into laughter as he chanted compliments and exaggerated reactions.

It was in this whirl of laughter and gaiety that Droid’s inspiration struck. In an impulsive moment, he turned to you, caught under the mesmerizing spell of your dance, and before you could react, he smacked your butt with a playful burst of confidence. The surprise hung in the air, time seeming to freeze momentarily as the room erupted into a mixture of gasps and laughter. The mix of shock and giggles was contagious, with each friend rooting for more daring antics.

But as the reality of action dawned on Droid, his face flushed a shade of crimson. “Oh, no! I-I didn’t mean to—” he stammered, eyes wide in shock, realizing the unexpected boldness of his move.

As his embarrassment peaked, he turned away, only to find himself snuggling next to you in an almost childlike manner, muttering apologies as if hoping to melt into the couch. “I’m so sorry! That was so out of line, I wasn’t thinking, just—”

“Relax, Droid!” you replied, chuckling as you nudged him playfully. “We’re all ‘friends’ here! Just consider it a compliment.”

The laughter echoed through the room, a symphony of amusement bubbling up like soda pop shaken too vigorously. Puffer, leaning back in his chair, couldn’t suppress his chuckles, and Grizzy dramatically wiped away tears of laughter. Pezzy was red in the face, torn between embarrassment and bemusement; it wasn’t every day he found himself among such a raucous crowd.

“Okay, okay, let’s not get too carried away!” you exclaimed, playfully nudging Droid away, who was still buried in a sea of regrets and apologies, mumbling about how he didn’t mean to be so bold. You couldn’t help but smile at this unexpected turn of events; it was just too entertaining.

“Don’t worry, Droid. Just don’t make it a habit,” you winked, turning the situation into a lighthearted joke. The room erupted again with raucous laughter, and it felt like a bubble of joy had enveloped all of you. It was one of those rare moments, where ridiculousness united friends in a blend of laughter and mischief, an unbreakable bond of camaraderie.

“But seriously, how did you even manage to pull off those moves and why haven't you done them on me yet?” Grizzy smirked, leaning in closer as if hoping to uncover the secrets behind your seemingly spontaneous dancing prowess.

Grizzy’s footsteps creaked across the floor as he ambled out of the cozy living room, his mission to find his elusive hair tie and sleep mask. “I’ll be right back! Don’t eat all the snacks without me!” he called, but everyone knew this was a challenge rather than a warning. As soon as he left, an excited buzz encircled the room; media share had started to stutter and glitch, like a wayward satellite trying to connect with the right signal.

Puffer, the tech whiz of the group, grabbed his trusty laptop. The screen flickered in protest as he muttered under his breath, “What’s going on with you now?” His fingers danced skillfully across the keys, eyes narrowed in concentration. Every now and then, he glanced up to catch the stream of chaotic energy that filled the room, almost like a buzz of electric excitement electrifying everyone’s laughter and chatter.

“Just think of it as character-building for the media share,” Pezzy jokes, reclining back into the couch with his water bottle or coke bottle in his lap.

You chuckled, feeling utterly at ease, nestled snugly between Droid and Pezzy. Your friends provided an amusing buffer, eliciting warmth and joy from the light banter that occurred around you. Grabbing your phone for a moment, you scrolled through your socials’ endless chatter, pausing occasionally to catch a snippet of a lively conversation or a meme that made you smile.

Just then, Grizzy re-entered the room, arms laden with snacks — a bag of cheese cubes that you brought home earlier cradled in one hand, while the other sported an enormous chocolate bar that seemed almost to shine in the dim light. “I feel liberated! And guess what I found?” he exclaimed triumphantly, yanking off the sleep mask that was dangling from his neck. “The ultimate sleep accessory!”

You burst into laughter at his silly antics, while Grizzy graciously gave you a handful of your favorite type of cheese, his delightful obsession with snacks evident as he plopped down, a grin plastered on his face.

“Thanks, Grizzy! Best snacks ever,” you said, your smile wide as you ate a cube from the pile.

With perfect timing, Puffer triumphantly declared, “It lives!” as the media share flickered back to life. He beaconed for everyone’s attention, “Who’s ready to see some legendary content?” He playfully pointed at you, knowing you were usually the most enthusiastic about the wildest videos.

“Mildly legendary, at least!” you joked back, as a wave of giggles swept through the room.

Puffer then bounded up to the fridge, grabbing two chilled water bottles. As Puffer theatrically waved the water bottle before handing it to you, the room erupted in giggles. A playful warmth enveloped you as he flashed that signature, quirky flirty smile, saying, “Stay hydrated, my love! We need some of our energy for tonight’s stream!” It felt like a scene plucked straight out of a romantic comedy, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling lighthearted and surrounded by good vibes.

Just as everyone settled onto the couch, shifting legs and rearranging pillows for comfort, the atmosphere was interrupted by a cheerful, chime-like notification. The screen flickered with a bright message announcing a fresh donation—a moment of sweet, dramatic déjà vu.

“Grizzy daddy sorry… Pezzy daddy sorry… Puffer daddy sorry… Oh Hi Droid...” The words echoed through the room as everyone burst into an uproar of laughter, breaking the blissful moment of quiet anticipation.

The moment the words echoed through the room, the atmosphere swelled with laughter that spilled into every corner of the cozy space. Each of the boys reacted with exaggerated flair, their personalities blossoming in the face of absurdity.

Pezzy quickly flicked off the camera with a theatrical motion, a bemused expression splashed across his face. “Well, that’s one way to get kicked off the stream!” he quipped, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation while trying to suppress the giggles bursting forth. The playful banter had taken a wild turn, and he was all too eager to jokingly step back.

Puffer, ever the mastermind of theatrics, raised one eyebrow in a perfectly timed reaction. He peered intently into the lens as if assessing the situation. “I don’t recall signing up for this, people! What a betrayal!” he exclaimed, his tone dramatic and over-the-top, eliciting more laughter from the group.

Grizzy, on the other hand, took the insults with a smirk, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “What?” he hummed into the mic, his deadpan delivery contrasting hilariously with the chaos of the moment. It was his quintessential lazy nonchalance that often played out in the most joyful of ways, and the sight left everyone chuckling.

Droid, embodying his role as the steady yet quirky dad-type of the group, opted for the classic dad wave, a somewhat exaggerated waving gesture that left the others in stitches. “Oh hi there, everyone! Just checking in, no big deal!” he said, a grin growing wide across his face. His tone was comically casual, adding a delightful layer to the already jovial atmosphere. You cuddled into his side giving him extra love since chat was not loving him.

Droid’s dad wave came off as wonderfully charming, but what drew attention next was the sweet moment you shared. As you cuddled into his side, he turned slightly, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across his face. The laughter around you faded into a soft backdrop as you leaned in closer, your whisper brushing against his ear like a teasing breeze.

“You know we can blur those lines, like you said earlier, daddy,” you said, your voice low and playful, accompanied by a subtle bite of your lip that sent a ripple of warmth through the air. Your sultry gaze met his, and in that moment, a spark seemed to dance between the two of you, igniting a playful tension that even the jubilant noise of your friends couldn’t extinguish.

Droid’s cheeks flushed a shade deeper than usual, a mix of comical embarrassment and sincerity painting his expression. “Whoa now,” he chuckled nervously, adjusting his glasses with an endearingly awkward gesture. His grin, however, widened, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’ve got an audience here, and they’re expecting some dad jokes, not... whatever this is.” The thrill in his voice hinted at how much he was enjoying this unexpected turn of events, the way it turned the night from merely entertaining into something tantalizingly complex.

The laughter around you surged back, with Pezzy and Puffer barely containing their amusement. “Look at you two! What is happening?” Pezzy exclaimed, nudging Puffer playfully. “Someone’s getting scandalous!”

With everyone now grinning conspiratorially, Droid leaned in closer, brushing his shoulder against yours as he whispered back, “You’re really going to make it hard for me to stick to my dad persona like this.” There was a hint of challenge in his voice, the playful spark beckoning him to dive into the quirky chemistry crackling between you two.

“Oh, that’s the point,” you replied smoothly, throwing in an exaggerated wink for dramatic flair, prompting more laughter from the guys. “A little chaos never hurts anyone, right?”

Droid glanced over at the camera, then back at you, his expression a mix of affection and mischief. He was clearly torn between maintaining his wholesome charm and embracing the funny spur-of-the-moment vibes that had overtaken the stream. “Guess we’ll have to see how much chaos we can get away with tonight!” he ultimately declared, laughter spilling from his lips.

The laughter that erupted after Droid’s declaration was quickly eclipsed by the sudden and loud “ACHOO!” from Grizzy, echoing through the room like a fire alarm. Everyone turned their attention to him, eyes wide and ready for whatever playful chaos might ensue next.

“Bless you, daddy!” you chimed in, your voice a playful melody that added to the humor of the moment. It was a lighthearted jest, one that only you seemed to notice was met with a hint of surprise from Grizzy.

“Thank you, kitten,” Grizzy replied absentmindedly, a sheepish grin dancing on his face, completely missing the undertones of misplaced affection behind your playful greeting.

At that instant, everyone froze in a state of disbelief, their expressions oscillating between shock and hilarity. Droid’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Grizzy. “Wait, what?” he stammered, confused as if he had just stumbled into the wrong dimension.

Pezzy nearly fell off the couch, clutching his stomach. “Did you just get called ‘kitten’ by Grizzy?!” he hooted, pointing an accusatory finger as if he’d just discovered the greatest scandal in streaming history.

Puffer leaned back, arms crossed and a mock-serious expression plastered on his face. “This is a plot twist nobody saw coming! I feel like I just got upgraded to a new season of ‘Reality: The Chronicles of the Clooless Boys’!”

Grizzy’s face turned a shade darker, embarrassment washing over his features like the tide. “I thought that was Pezzy blessing me!” he exclaimed, his voice rising a bit as the realization dawned on him. The laughter only escalated, everyone seizing the chance to poke fun at the blushing dad figure.

“Surprise! It wasn’t Pezzy, it was me!” you teased, leaning back with a satisfied grin as Grizzy squirmed in his seat.

“Seriously though!” Puffer interjected, “Do we need a ‘Grizzy Kittens’ merch line now? I can see the T-shirt designs already!” He threw in an exaggerated hand gesture like he was revealing the ultimate scoop, and laughter erupted once again.

Grizzy couldn’t escape the playful wave of banter that washed in; it pushed and pulled at him, the boys relentlessly teasing. “I’m just being nice; you know, wholesome and all!” he defended, though the humor of the moment was too strong.

“Well, we all need a little kitten magic in our lives!” you added with a wink, the room howling in gleeful laughter once more, Grizzy helplessly caught in the storm of camaraderie and jovial embarrassment.

As the chaos continued, Droid settled back into his role, smirking at the series of events. “What a stream this has turned out to be! I take back what I said earlier. The only chaos happening tonight is right here!”

As the laughter mellowed into a happy buzz, Pezzy announced in his signature boisterous tone, “Alright, I’m off to the restroom!” With a dramatic flourish, he hopped up from the couch, waving exaggeratedly as he made his exit. The moment his absence created a void, you felt yourself unintentionally slipping into the couch's crevice. The plush cushions seemed to invite you in, but instead of comfort, it was more akin to a gentle but insistent trap, gradually making you feel like you were disappearing into the furniture.

Wriggling to escape the unexpected embrace of the couch, you quickly realized you were getting uncomfortably confined. “Okay, this is not how couch-sinking was supposed to work,” you muttered to yourself, muscles tensing as you tried to re-adjust. Even worse, an unwanted chill crept over you as the air surged in, and your body's instinct kicked in—time for a sweatshirt.

You slipped free from the couch's clutches with a huff, making your way to the kitchen table where one of the boys had left a cozy sweatshirt lounging. As you stretched to grab it, you felt the energy buzzing behind you. Grizzy's voice broke through the casual chatter that filled the room.

“Anyone want food? I’m thinking we could get some takeout!” he called out, glancing around but pausing when you walked behind him on the couch.

You turned to respond but caught his eye just at the right moment. He looked up at you with a cheeky grin that held a mischievous glint. “I could eat you for dinner,” he said smoothly, holding your gaze with a confidence that sent your heart racing. The playful stretch of his words and the way he carried his charm had a sudden and powerful effect, leaving you blushing furiously.

Your cheeks warmed like a furnace, and thankfully for you, the microphone didn’t pick up his playful flirtation, but the live chat didn’t miss a beat. A flood of messages began popping up, teasing you with playful jabs like “Is Grizzy flirting?” and “Someone's blushing!” Streams of giggles erupted in the background, a chorus of playful mockery, while you tried to muster up a witty comeback, desperately suppressing a giddy smile.

“I—uh, well, you know, I’m more of a snack, really!” you finally managed to stutter out, your voice coming out in a rush as you hastily pulled the sweatshirt on, grateful for the added warmth and cover it provided against the teasing glances and chortles filling the room.

As you settled into your sweatshirt—a snug cocoon that shielded you from the playful teasing—Puffer patted the couch next to him, a cheeky glimmer in his eye. “Hey, come here! There’s a perfect spot right here between Grizzy and me. It’s the best seat in the house,” he said, his tone light and inviting, but with an undercurrent of mischief.

With nowhere else to go and the irresistible allure of friendly companionship pulling at you, you slid back onto the couch, positioning yourself between the two guys. The warmth of the sweatshirt contrasted with the cozy closeness of your friends, making the entire setting feel simultaneously comforting and just the right amount of chaotic.

“Now we’re all together again!” Puffer said, grinning as he leaned closer, speaking in a low voice, just for your ears. “You know, snacks are supposed to be shared,” he quipped playfully, nudging your shoulder. “Are you okay with that? Because I could totally go for some midnight munchies.”

Grizzy caught the exchange, and with impeccable timing, he threw in, still maintaining eye contact, “Yeah, if you’re one of our late-night snacks, we’d better make sure you’re well taken care of.” His expression was equal parts playful, equal parts serious, and it sent tingles of mischief running up your spine.

You bit your lip to stifle the giggle rising within you. The room was buzzing with laughter and chaos, yet it felt like you were in a little bubble, cozied up between two of your friends who were determined to shower you with attention and silliness.

Pezzy turned his focus on the stream again, casually adjusting the camera to capture the moment. “Wow, look how quickly things get spicy whenever I step away!” he teased, eliciting another round of laughter from the group. His voice interjected into your light-hearted exchanges, making the moment all the more dynamic.

Puffer leaned closer, lowering his voice further, still playing his part in the low-key flirtation. “Just be prepared; if Grizzy decides you’re a snack, we might need to set some boundaries. I don’t want to lose my favorite couch companion!” He threw an exaggerated wink your way, clearly enjoying himself.

A tranquil blanket of tiredness began to settle over the group. With the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy hug, you found yourself sprawled out comfortably between Puffer and Grizzy, sipping the last bits of energy from the night. Puffer’s arm encircled your shoulders, creating a subtle but comforting presence against the backdrop of friendly chaos, while Grizzy settled in closer, an easy smile resting on his face.

Across the couch, Droid had positioned himself, half splayed over Puffer while balancing precariously in his own little kingdom of cushions. Pezzy, in his corner, had curled up like a content cat, the remnants of a lively evening wrapped softly around him like a well-worn blanket. The jovial energy had morphed into a lazy but delightful stillness.

Just as you began to float into a comfortable haze, a sudden jolt of sound erupted through the room. The unmistakable PlayStation 2 intro music blasted through the speakers, bass boosted to an almost ridiculous level. It reverberated across the walls, shaking the very air around you like a sonic tidal wave.

“Whoa! What is that?” Grizzy exclaimed, suddenly jerking awake, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Puffer groaned dramatically, “You’ve just made my comfy couch nap a dangerous mission.”

Droid, ever the instigator, snickered from his sprawled position. “Who doesn’t love a bit of classic nostalgia, especially when it’s had a little too much to drink?” His laughter echoed through the room, amplifying the joyful chaos as Pezzy popped up with a laugh, eyes sparkling with mischief.

you nestled back against Puffer, the warmth and security of the couch embraced you like a gentle wave, lulling you into a blissful sleep. The laughter and teasing faded into a soft murmur of voices, mingling with the pulsating bass of the music still lingering in the background. You drifted off, wrapped in the cozy camaraderie of your friends and the chaotic energy of the night.

You had no idea how much time passed, but the soothing rhythm of sleep was abruptly interrupted by a loud and thunderous roar that echoed through the room. The media share had taken a sudden turn—an audio clip of a rocket taking off filled the space, its intensity jolting you out of your slumber.

“3… 2… 1… lift-off!” the announcer declared, the excitement crackling in the air as if the whole world was about to be launched into a new dimension. You immediately scrubbed the sleep from your eyes and shot up in a daze.

Droid, still sprawled out on the couch, burst into laughter, his voice bright and teasing. “Welcome back to planet earth! Did you see the launch? It was epic!” His teasing made the room feel lively again, as Grizzy stirred and let out a groggy chuckle, trying to process what had just happened.

“Oh man, I thought I was dreaming of a space adventure,” Grizzy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “Next thing I know, I’m being blasted back to reality by NASA!”

Pezzy’s corner became a flurry of movement as he sat up, brows raised in surprise. “Did we just launch a rocket, or did I miss the memo about attending a space party?!” he joked, laughter spilling from him like confetti—a feel-good ambiance that swept through the group.

You blinked repeatedly, glancing between your friends as confusion mixed with the remnants of sleep. “I just wanted to see what the cosmos looked like while peacefully napping!”

The lively chatter of your friends snapped your attention back to the present. The idea of breakfast hung in the air like a sweet aroma, and soon enough, everyone started weighing their options between the two iconic breakfast spots—IHOP, the haven of fluffy pancakes and syrup-filled wonders, and Waffle House, known for its crispy, golden waffles and hearty home-cooked meals.

“IHOP has those amazing stuffed pancakes,” Droid argued, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Plus, can you imagine diving into a warm, maple syrup waterfall this early in the day? Pure bliss!”

Grizzy, ever the candid commentator, chimed in, “But Waffle House has that greasy charm, you know? There’s something about their hash browns smothered and covered that feels like a big, warm hug!”

Pezzy, fueled by his undeniable love for breakfast, flailed his arms playfully. “But can’t you see? At IHOP, we’ll have all those crazy pancake flavors! You can't beat the strawberry banana or the chocolate chip! Can you imagine the pancake tower we could build?” His eyes gleamed with the sweetness of delicious possibilities.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer enthusiasm bubbling around you, the debate energizing the air. “I love pancakes, but I also can’t say no to that crispy goodness from Waffle House,” you admitted, feeling the flavors of both places dancing on your taste buds.

“That’s true, but IHOP wins on atmosphere!” Puffer interjected, reclining in a way that suggested a fierce dedication to the cause. “I mean, it’s like entering a pancake paradise!” He gestured dramatically, as if the diners themselves were the grandest of attractions.

The excitement in the room shifted as Pezzy’s sudden pizza craving sparked new energy among the group. Everyone rallied at the idea of a late-night pizza party, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation. The conversation swirled, mixing dreams of classic cheese slices with a sprinkle of spontaneity.

“Okay, so we’re going plain cheese, but we can’t forget the breadsticks!” you added, feeling the warmth of your friends’ camaraderie washing over you. “Dipping those in marinara sauce is a must!”

“Exactly! Those cheesy, garlicky breadsticks are the real MVPs of the meal!” Puffer nodded enthusiastically, his eyes alight with the prospect of it all. “But while we’re at it, how about we throw in some toppings for an extra dimension? We need to elevate this pizza experience!”

Grizzy shrugged, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. “I mean, if we’re playing with toppings, we could go wild. What about a little pepperoni or mushrooms?”

Pezzy’s fingers danced over his phone screen, frantically typing the order as the conversation snowballed. “Alright, so we’ve got cheese and breadsticks… what do you think about adding some pepperoni?”

“Okay, pepperoni can work,” you said, your mind flashing images of gooey cheese and spicy slices melding together. “But if we go that route, let’s be bold and sprinkle on some jalapeños too, for a little kick!”

“Now we’re talking!” Puffer exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. “Yup, I’m in for the heat!”

With your decision solidifying, Pezzy hit the ‘order now’ button on the pizza app, sending your late-night cravings into action. The deliciousness you anticipated made your mouth water, and soon, you would all be sinking into cheesy bliss, sharing slices and stories as the night pushed on.

As the minutes passed in delightful anticipation, your friends shifted the conversation back to the topic of breakfast, discussing the point at which IHOP became the undeniable champion of pancake paradise. It was a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the occasional sleepy mumble as you settled back into the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about toppings all wrong,” Droid pondered aloud. “We could have designed the ultimate breakfast pizza, now that I think about it! Bacon, eggs, cheese… to start the day right!”

“That may be the best idea I’ve heard all night!” Pezzzy chuckled. “Wait, do you think breakfast pizza could ever work at IHOP?”

“Why not?” you said, sliding back into the playful banter that danced built upon each suggestion. “I mean, if we add a bit of syrup on top, it could be the wildest food fusion ever!”

Bursting into laughter, the idea took root in your collective imagination—an absurdly wonderful breakfast pizza that could be adorned with pancakes, bacon, and maple syrup.

“Listen, all I know is that when we hit IHOP, we might as well throw in an experimental breakfast pizza for good measure,” Grizzy proclaimed, and everyone around formed an enthusiastic cheer.

With the pizza order confirmed and the atmosphere filled with warmth and laughter, the anticipation for your dinner grew.Time passed quickly, wrapping up as the doorbell suddenly rang, heralding the arrival of your cheesy feast.

As the doorbell rang, a media share popped up of them being rick rolled. It seems like it's the 5th time tonight, and they rick rolled the pizza delivery man. Puffer, with a triumphant grin plastered on his face, returned from the door to the bustling living room, his arms a precarious tower of pizza boxes and the enticing aroma of freshly baked breadsticks wafting through the air. “Look what I have! The feast has arrived!” he announced, his belly rumbling in sync with his excitement.

As he carefully set the boxes on the coffee table, the group erupted in cheers. “And look who decided to add a little fizz to the party!” he chuckled, revealing the two-liter bottle of Sprite perched between the boxes, a secret that had remained hidden in Pezzy’s planning.

“Did you really just sneak a soda?!” Droid asked, a mix of mock indignation and amusement lighting up his face. “You know that just adds to the calories of the pizza we are about to destroy, right?”

“Exactly!” Puffer laughed, popping the lid off the soda and pouring it into cups for everyone. “More sugar and cheese equals more fun!”

With a round of cheers and an impromptu toast to indulgence, the pizza was displaced, boxes flopped open, and everyone eagerly reached for their favorite slices. Laughter bubbled over as you all revealed in the moment, recounting the hilarity of the night’s earlier rick-rolls. The latest one had been particularly epic, as you all watched your pizza delivery man, caught off guard by the iconic tune blasting from your phone.

After feasting on cheesy deliciousness and munching crispy breadsticks, you felt a gentle lull settling over the group, each of you stuffed and satisfied. It was in this peaceful atmosphere, snuggled between Droid and Puffer on the couch, that your phone buzzed, breaking the cozy ambience.

Curious, but unwilling to move from your snug position, you let it ring a few times until the buzz faded into silence. When it buzzed again, you reluctantly peeled open your eyes just enough to see your boss’s name flashing on the screen. You swiped to answer, the warmth of your friends at your side making the weight of the call feel far away.

“We need someone to cover a quick shift at the ER until morning,” your boss’s voice came, calm yet urgent. You bit your lip, contemplating. The thought of leaving this cozy gathering, the happiness thick in the air, sent a shiver of reluctance down your spine.

“No, I can’t do it tonight,” you finally said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you declined the request. You had a soft spot for emergencies, of course, but the memories being created tonight were just as important to you. After a brief exchange, you hung up, content in your decision.

With a little stretch, you snagged one last crust and sighed with satisfaction. There was no going back after that—your stomach was full, the laughter surrounding you was intoxicating, and the couch was simply too inviting.

As the conversation continued around you, the night drifted on, feeling heavier with warmth and comfort. You took one last bite of the delicious pizza, savoring the gooey cheese as it melted in your mouth. With a satisfied sigh, the pizza platter was polished off, and the glow of laughter filled the air as stories turned into gentle banter.

Before long, the energy of the group began to fade, little by little, until it felt like a soft blanket of peace covered the space. Unable to resist the overwhelming comfort, slumping back into the comfy cushions, you snuggled deeper between Droid and Puffer, who instinctively wrapped an arm around you. The day’s exhaustion hit you hard, drawing you into a comforting blanket of slumber.

With the sounds of laughter in the background gradually transforming into a soft murmur, your eyelids grow heavy. You surrendered to the irresistible allure of sleep, letting it pull you into a cozy oblivion, ensconced in the happiness of cherished friendships.

As your eyelids fluttered closed, the muted noise of laughter and conversations blurred into a comforting hum. You could feel the warmth radiating from your friends, each breath lulling you into a deeper calm.

In your dreams, you danced through bright halls of pancake paradise and celebrated pizza feasts with friends who understood the magic of spontaneous adventures. Just as you drifted away, you could faintly hear Puffer delivering a rendition of “Never Gonna Give You Up,” the echo of laughter blending harmoniously with the peace of your slumber.

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