#here we go again with yet one more problem

[rabotimagines]

https://www.tumblr.com/rabotimagines/777430496310329344/battlefield-flirting-gn-bot-reader-x-megatron?source=share

I'm gonna be so fr I imagined Jazz as the one flirting, and why did it fit so well????

but also imagine Prowl being incredibly protective over Jazz when he finds out that the Decepticons want him-

Tbh older reader and Jazz are on the same wave length so it does fit. If Jazz was the one getting the cons horny he'd think it was funny as hell and play into it.

Here your ask made me think of another part for older petnaming reader.

"Show" GN BOT Reader x Jazz scenario

Summary: You make out with Jazz and act like you're interfacing to distract the Decepticons.

G1 characters: Jazz (The cons are also here getting horny! Prowl shows up at the end too.)

Warnings: Voyeurism

Genre/Theme: Horny 🔞 (more Mature than Explicit)

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: The entire make out is from the perspective of the Decepticons, Playful older reader, Reader: We should take advantage of the fact the Decepticons are perverts.

You all needed a distraction, and you needed one bad.

The Decepticons had started yet another world dominance plan, which was actually going well. And you needed to stop them now before it got any further out of control. Mirage could sneak into the temporary base the Decepticons set up and sabotage them from the inside. The problem was that the whole base was guarded to the denta, and you needed to distract at least one of the guards for Mirage to slip in. And then distract the rest of the Decepticons so Mirage can do his job without interruption.

That's when you get a crazy idea that might actually work.

You weren't stupid, and you were old enough to know what most the Decepticons were thinking when they started leering at you with hungry looks. You just continued teasing them on the battlefield, while not giving them even an inkling that you knew exactly how badly they wanted you. But now you might just take advantage of the cons little attraction to you. (It's not like it was your fault they seemed to want you like an energon goodie. You weren't exactly some fancy new build. You were a war trained soilder.)

So you raised your servo "Optimus, I might have an idea for how to distract a watchmech and all of the Decepticon high command at the same time."

Optimus paused when you spoke to give you the per verbal floor. "Oh? And what exactly might that be?"

"I just need one mech on board for it to work. So Jazz, question-" At your address, Jazz perked up from where he was sitting. "How do you feel about putting on- a little show with me to distract the cons?" The room goes dead silent at your question.

Jazz realizes exactly what you're implying the fastest. He leans forward over the table slightly, his plating tense and serious. "I just have an equally important question in response."

"Oh?"

Jazz's plating slacks casually, and a felinoid smile that reminds you exactly why you two got along curls on his derma. "Glossia or no glossia?" Oh, this would be fun.

-

"Honestly, we know they'll be coming sooner than later, we should attack them first while we have the upper servo!" Starscream argued with Megatron again over the decision to stay on guard.

"If they're going to come, then let them come! We will be ready for the Autobots, and we will destroy them where they stand!" Megatron snapped back in clear annoyance.

Just as Starscream opened his mouth again, one of the alerts went off. Drawing everyone's attention to the multiple camera feeds on the wide screen they had on the wall. "Soundwave report." Megatron ordered.

"Buzzsaw reports obvious activity in shrubbery ahead of himself." Soundwave tapped along his keyboard, and Buzzsaws internal feed camera was put up in full screen. Sure enough, the view of bushes shaking slightly was put into view. It stopped after a klick.

"Soundwave order him to find out what it is. And if it's a pest to deal with it accordingly."

The video feed showed Buzzsaws point of view of taking off and into the tree line where the movement had happened. The cons were left watching as Buzzsaw flew through the trees for a few klicks with no life in sight.

Only for a bot to eventually come into view.

"Jazz." Megatron muttered darkly "Soundwave, have Buzzsaw find out exactly what he's planning."

Soundwave nodded. "Buzzsaw, follow lead."

They watched as Jazz in root mode stepped over plant life with Buzzsaw silently trailing behind him in the trees. Eventually, he came to a small clearing where another mech was waiting.

You were waiting for him, leaning up against a larger tree, and your helm perked up when you saw Jazz. "Ah, yellow still on guard?" You asked with quirked derma.

Jazz just casually shrugged his shoulders. "Sure is. Looks like we'll be waiting for at least a Joor." Jazz leisurely made his way over to you.

"A joor till what?" Starscream muttered conspicuously.

Jazz met up with you, but instead of stopping in front like they'd all expected, Jazz got even closer to you. They all watched as Jazz propped an arm up against the same tree you were leaning against. Effectively trapping you between him and the tree. Jazz just smiled and raised his other servo to lightly cup your jaw.

"Really now. While we're on watch duty?" You didn't even seem upset by the incredibly wild development.

"C'mon, we've got a joor, and I know exactly how I wanna be spending that joor." Jazz leaned close enough that there was only a digits length between your faceplates.

"Soundwave I was not..." Megatron paused. "Aware that the two of them were this close to one another."

"Information not known. Proposal: may be both their personalities, opposed to relationship." Soundwave stated bluntly since he frankly hadn't seen any signs of you two actually becoming involved with one another like this.

The answer was obvious and easy to accept. Considering Jazz, let alone you. You'd flirt with your enemies on the battlefield constantly. While Jazz was... Jazz.

So when Jazz leaned forward and kissed you, the entire room was equally shocked.

"Soundwave retracts last statement." Soundwave bluntly remarked as he watched you kiss Jazz back.

Jazz's servos moved towards your chassis while yours went for Jazz's waist. You practically dragged Jazz forward till there was barely any space between the two of you.

Jazz's servos were greedily brushing over the front of your chasiss. Digit pads following the line and dips of your armor as he sensually touched you. You arched against his touch while your gasps and other small noises slipped out between where the two of you kissed.

"Wait, are they gonna frag?" Skywarp, who had been leaning back in his chair, was now sitting forward attentive and staring at the screen.

"What? No. Why the slag would-" Thundercracker stopped short and actually stared at Jazz and you. The longer he stared, the more he noticed how much you were both touching each other. He also noticed how he actually couldn't see if either of your modesty panels were still in place from the angle.

Were you actually about to-

Starscream scoffed loudly and turned on his thruster towards Megatron "Megatron, this is obviously a ploy to distract-" Jazz's engine revving loud in blatant undeniable want cut Starscream off.

"Yeah!" Skywarp shouted excitedly at the screen when Jazz slipped his glossia into your mouth. While multiple sounds of shock sounded out of the rest of them. Jazz closed what little space you had between you and boldly pressed his chassis up against yours. Your hips slotted together, and a heavy but muffled groan sounded out of you at the contact. Did Jazz just- slag. Did Jazz just spike you? Due to the side angle of Buzzsaws view and how close you were together, Thundercracker still had no visible clue if you were actually interfacing. But the motion and the angle of each of your hips certainly didn't paint any other picture.

Jazz rocked his hips, and you arched further against him. Your servos dragged jazz even closer towards you every time he rutted against you. Jazz's servos simply had not stopped wandering and fondling your frame the entire time. Every drag of his digits brought another little noise out of you. Either a huff or another muffled moan- You were still kissing each other fervently, and Thundercracker could occasionally catch glimpses of both your glossias-

You certainly weren't holding servos!

Thundercracker almost chokes on his oral lubricant at the very heated display and has to fight not to let his sparkdamned modesty panel pull back. His own spike twitching against his own panel every time another needy noise slipped out of you. This was going to haunt his less than innocent alone time- In a panic, Thundercracker glanced at Megatron, and almost balks.

Megatrons optics are a noticeable shade brighter than usual. He's also leaning forward and staring intensively at the little show you two were both putting on. Thundercracker hears your muffled moan and can physically see Megatron's optics brighten a touch further.

Starscream stood next to Megatron with his mouth hanging open, and his wings raised high, and they were twitching sporadically- Thundercracker realizes it's in time with your noises.

Thundercracker glances at Soundwave and does balk this time and then scowls. Soundwave was recording! Like, as if Buzzsaw wasn't already doing it! Frag, Thundercracker wasn't stupid enough to ask for a copy of the footage and owe Soundwave anything. Skywarp, however, would be asking- Skywap, who was leaning forward with a grin on his faceplate. Optics bright and not breaking his focus on the two of you for even a nanoklick

... Thundercracker could get it from Skywarp afterward.

You both break apart finally with huffy vents and Jazz groaned before shoving his faceplate against your throat. Subsequently hiding Jazz's helm from the camera view.

Only then does Buzzsaw's camera, which had been focused primarily on your frames, slowly panned upwards. To revel your optics were locked directly on Buzzsaw and subsequently them as well. The camera jerked when Buzzsaw flinched, realizing he'd been spotted. They waited for you to quickly inform Jazz that you were being watched or raise a blaster to fire at Buzzsaw. When, instead, the entire room watched baffled as your derma curled further, and your optics narrowed slightly. You then slowly and teasingly dragged your glossia over your derma. You then bit down on your bottom derma before simply turning back towards Jazz.

Yeah, Thundercrackers not gonna be able to be normal the next time you smile at him before a fight.

An engine revving and then stalling in the room makes Thundercracker glance right and see the two Constructicons (who he forgot where even there) also seemingly in a similar state as his own.

"Holy slag-" Scavenger muttered, staring wide opticed, at the video feed. Scrapper was simply staring, but even his optics were obviously running hotter than they should. A moan slipped out of Jazz this time when you started lapping your glossia at the detailing of his throat cables.

They all visibly jumped when a blaring alarm suddenly started blasting in the room. Thundercracker swore he could hear his own energon in his audials. Then he registered it was an alarm and not a sudden attack. Thundercracker had to dismiss his own battle protocols that sprung to life after the sound. "Soundwave report!" Megatron ordered.

"Weapon has been set to disintegration- from the inside."

"What!?" Megatron and Starscream both made a dash out of the room more than obviously heading to where the weapon was stored. The two Constructicons followed shortly after them. Scavenger tripping on his way out the door before getting back up to keep running.

"Buzzsaw, return. Base is compromised." After the order, Soundwave made his way out the door as well.

Buzzsaw's legs twitched when Soundwave spoke, and the branch he was on audibly shook. A blaster shot scrapped the side of Buzzsaws chassis, and he cried out and took to the skies. Promptly cutting off the camera show they'd had of you two.

"No! Frag!" Skywarp shouted in dismay, obviously more upset by the show he had being cut short than the fact that they'd been compromised. Thundercracker groaned and stood up while ignoring the heat of obvious interested arousal between his thighs.

Thundercracker probably would have to get a copy of it from Soundwave if he actually wanted to see that again.

-

"Whoops, and there goes the camera crew." Jazz stared up at the direction Buzzsaw had taken off in.

You just stared at Prowl, who was standing with his still smoking blaster in the air. A firm frown was on his faceplate. "Thanks for the save, Prowl." You nodded at him, and Prowl only grunted in response.

You raised an optic ridge while Jazz just turned to Prowl and grinned. "Oh, Prowl! Did ya enjoy the show?"

Prowl had only agreed to your plan if someone would be stationed to guard the two of you while you distracted the Decepticons.

Optimus thought it was a perfectly valid claim.

So Optimus told Prowl he'd be guarding you both.

Prowls faceplate didn't even twitch. (His doorwings did however.) "You've gotten too- into part. You should've stopped once Mirage messaged about successfully setting the detonation off."

You pulled Jazz's thigh up to your waist as if you were going to spike him- if your array were out anyway. You also worried your bottom derma at Prowl for extra measure. Your servo under Jazz's thigh and digits barely brushing the end of Jazz's aft. "Aw, C'mon Prowl, we were having fun."

"Yeah, Prowl- it's not like it totally didn't work amazingly or something. Ha ha. " Jazz chuckled and waggled his optic ridge at Prowl. Jazz continued to press his frame against your own while waiting for a response.

Prowl stared at you two for a klick longer before finally just sighing and moving past you both. "The Decepticons still need to be dealt with." You and Jazz watched him leave and eyed Prowls doorwings that were perked a touch higher than they usually would be.

You turned back to Jazz to share a look before you both finally broke apart, laughing.

[howi99]

From the Nest 6

Ruby: *bored* Urgh.... Where are the grimms? We've been walking for an hour and we didn't as much as HEARD a single one!

Weiss: *pensive* It is curious... Maybe the teachers killed too many of them before the exam?

Ruby: Uh... When i think about it, Jaune did say that he passed through the forest yesterday. He also said something about hating flying.

Weiss: *surprised* Alone?!

Ruby: *nod* Yep.

Weiss: Huh, maybe they DID overdo it.

_ Meanwhile _

Blake: *panting* How many more are there?

Jaune: *recharging her aura with one hand, blocking a Beowolf with his blade* three more, excluding that one.

Blake: *shooting yet another lesser grimm down* When you said you were like a beacon- *stab gambol shroud straight through yet another beowolf eye, killing it on the spot* i thought you were a bit more metaphoric.

Jaune: *kicking back the beowolf, then cut it in half when it charged back* Trust me, *turn to the last grimm, slashing it vertically* I know.

_ 10 minutes later_

Jaune: *picking up the tower piece* Huh, i was expecting something a bit more...

Blake: Shiny?

Jaune: *putting it in his pocket* I was going to say visible, but that works too.

Blake: Visible?

Jaune: *shrug* Imagine if someone were to drop it. A chess piece isn't really easy to spot in a forest, right?

Blake: *pensive* I guess not. *sees an Ursa running out of the forest, looking completely exhausted before falling to the ground, dead*

Nora: *waving at them* Eya!

Ren: *jumping off the beast* Nora, please never do that again...

Nora: *beaming* Aw come on! It was funny!

Jaune: *walking up to them, smiling* If it isn't the two who abandoned us for breakfast!

Nora: *grinning* And it was the best decision ever! They had unlimited pancakes!

Jaune: *laugh* Good for you then! *Looking at Ren* You got any problem on the way?

Ren: *shaking his head* Only a small gathering of ursa and a King Taijitu. *Scratch his head* It's honestly surprising how little problem we got coming here.

Blake: *staring at Jaune* I wonder why.

Jaune: ... Page 210-

Blake: *panicking* Ok, ok! I'll stop complaining!

[miwiromantics]

ST ships and parallels - PART 1

this post is to point out similar parallels and their differences between the canon ships in the show, especially in favor of byler and jancy. this is a pro byler/jancy and anti-mileven/stancy post so if you ship the later dni or read at your own risk.

most of the points here i've gotten are from the comments from this post. i will also be tagging the the original posters here (if u don't want to be tagged pls inform me to remove it)

this post includes: - byler/stancy parallel ✔️ - stancy/mileven parallels ✔️ - jancy/mileven parallels - byler/mileven parallels - byler/ jancy + canon ships parallels

part 2.

warning: !!! long post ahead !!!

the main reason I made this post was because i recently saw an ask regarding how Will parallels Steve in season 4 and how if byler happens then jancy logically cannot be endgame. so i would like to address this in length with the many parallels between each ship. Firstly,

Byler/Stancy parallel:

similarity: both Steve and Will have one specific parallel shown in season 4; they both confess their love to a significant other one way or another even if the other is in a relationship with someone else. Steve to Nancy and Will to Mike. They have both made it clear to the audience that they have feelings for the other person.

difference: the nature of their confessions. Will uses El's name instead of his own to give Mike the confidence to, in the long run, not give up on his relationship with El. He masked his own feelings to help Mike instead of conflict him.

Even after hearing about Mike and El's relationship problems and how Mike describes the fight they had as something they couldn't come back from, he doesn't try to present to Mike as a potential love interest he could have and conflict him. He doesn't disregard El from the equation and instead uses her as a shield for his own feelings.

By doing so, he has given up on his feelings for Mike and the possibility that those feelings will ever be reciprocated. He does this for Mike's own happiness.

It is a selfless thing.

Steve's confession did the absolute opposite. He outwardly states that he is still in love with her and has plans of the future involving her by his side. He disregards the fact that she is still in a romantic relationship with Jonathan and inserts the idea of them being together.

By confessing, Steve is asking her to think about the possibility that she might leave Jonathan and fall for him again. This creates conflict. Going into season 5, it is clear to both Nancy and the audience that he will still have feelings for Nancy and even outwardly display them.

it is a selfish thing.

Nancy's reaction.

Mike's reaction.

Will isn't looking to be with Mike anymore while Steve wants to be with Nancy again. Those are two very different things. ------------------------------------------------------------

Stancy/Mileven parallels:

Now that we got that out the way, let's talk about stancy and mileven. These two ships are perfect parallels of each other for all the wrong reasons.

1. 'i love you'

They follow the exact sequence of each other: original post by @bugssavetheworld

both mike/nancy are able to say they love el/steve until they are actually pressured to by the later.

mike saying he loves her and nancy saying 'i love you too'.

el/steve literally begging mike/nancy to say they love them. in these two scenes both steve and el have outwardly expressed what they want nancy and mike to say and yet they aren't able to profess their 'love' to the other.

these two scenes happen straight after a supposed date they both went on:

and on these dates, el gets humiliated with a milkshake thrown at her in front of mike and nancy gets drunk and spills a drink on her dress in front of steve.

after this whole sequence, both steve and el are separate from nancy and mike and here they go on their own journey. They are both more focused on their self-improvement and character arc.

they both have a some what 'confrontation' scenes with mike/nancy using the same words they used.

2. 'First Kiss'

original post by @love-byers

the scores used for both scenes here is called 'the first kiss'.

the first scene is during mike and el's first kiss so its pretty on the nose. It doesn't seem like anything at first but during the second scene it is clear that Nancy has somebody else on her mind.

in the season later on, nancy gets together with jonathan. These scenes don't directly parallels each other but the duffers wouldn't have used the same music scores for no reason.

the original poster expanded more on this parallel in this post.

3. 'Love and death'

this is probably one of my favorite parallels between these two ships pointed out by @stranger-feathers.

*maniacal laughter*

during one of the most 'narratively' intimate scenes with Steve and Nancy, it gets interjected with literal scenes of Barb screaming for her life and getting killed by the demogorgon

this scenes were meant to make us uncomfortable and lay the ground for Nancy to feel guilty about Barb's death but there hasn't been any direct indication that Steve and Nancy's 'love' killed barb.

But this scene has very strong similarities to that of Mike's monologue and the outcome of it in season 4.

during mike going on this whole monologue on how he loves El, it gets interjected with scenes of El being chocked and results in Max's death (and Eddie's) and the destruction of Hawkins.

stancy 'sex' scene:

Results:

mileven monologue scene:

results:

if you think about it, both of these scenes perfectly resemble each other with the way they both play out.

this was Nancy's way to show that she loved Steve and that she wants to fully commit to him and this was a scene where Mike is saying how much he loves El and is committed to loving her.

and they both end following tragic disasters. ------------------------------------------------------------

the post is not allowing me to add anymore pictures so i will be continuing this in a part 2 post. thank you for reading.

[winterscaptain]

proofs of holy writ.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: the people have spoken and by a wide margin, we're stepping out of the mean it/berry hill era and into season 8, the replicator!! this is the companion to trifles light as air, the episode fic for brothers hotchner. feel free to give that one a glance if you need a refresher!

friendly fandom reminder that its not cringey to comment/reblog/tell the author and your friends you loved it!!

summary: “trifles light as air / are to the jealous confirmations strong / as proofs of holy writ.” - william shakespeare, othello act iii, scene iii. june 10th-june 19th, 2013

words: 11.6k warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of alcoholism, mark hamill being scary as fuck, let me know if i missed something!

masterlist | the ajf masterlist is under construction | ajf faq | join the taglist | what do you want to see next?

You’ve just picked a movie to not-watch on the hotel TV when Aaron gets a call. It’s Penelope. 

Your heart sinks. 

As Aaron picks up the phone, you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes against the wretched information that’s probably on its way to your proverbial desk. 

“Garcia, what -... The system is closed now, yes?... This isn’t your fault. Not at all…Have you called the rest of the team?... No?”

This is not good. 

“Okay I’ll take care of -... Yes, thank you.” 

He hangs up. 

“The Replicator is in New York. He hacked into Garcia’s system and has photos of us from this case.” 

A bolt of panic runs through you. “But we have Jack…” 

He shakes his head, already holding his phone to his ear again. “Hey, Beth. I’m so sorry it’s so late. I have a favor to ask.” 

You can’t help it. You push through the double doors to the living area of your suite. Jack is accounted for, sleeping soundly on the pullout couch. You kneel and let your shaking hand fall onto his head. 

Safe. 

+++

Jack (and his brand-new security detail) land at Beth’s apartment without much fuss. He’s still practically asleep, and it’s your only option right now. Aaron’s down with the car and the agents, doling out assignments and keeping the engine warm. 

“Thank you, Beth.” You turn the light off in her office, where Jack is set up. “I’m so sorry for the imposition.” 

“No! No, not at all,” she says. “I get it - bad guys ruining your vacation and whatever.” She pauses and takes a breath. “I’ve got him.” 

“His aunt will be here first thing in the morning to pick him up.” You text her a photo of Jessica, just in case. “Thank you again. Sorry about the random guys in your house.” You shoot a rueful smile at one of the US Marshals - Keith, you think, and he nods at you. 

“Not a problem,” Beth says. “You guys be safe out there, okay?” 

+++

The car ride to the federal building is quiet, save for the sound of Aaron’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Your mind is running in circles, screaming at you to call Beth one more time, to turn the car around and check. Jack is fine. He’s safe. You know that. But knowing and believing are two different things.

You exhale through your nose, forcing your grip to relax on your knee as Spencer and Dave slide into the backseat. It’s a bit of a blur - your mind is going a thousand different directions, not to mention fighting the urge to take everyone you’ve ever loved and throw them in a bunker. 

Dave hangs up the phone. “Strauss isn’t answering.” 

“Keep trying,” Aaron tells him. “Reid, any luck with Blake?” 

“Not yet.”

“There are more pictures of you taken outside of Beth's apartment,” Dave says, waving around a new missive from Penelope. “I get it if you want to stay with Jack until we find him.”

Aaron shakes his head. “I've got agents surrounding Beth's building and stationed in the apartment. She and Jack are safer without us since we're the targets.” 

You take the tablet from Dave. Yes, there are ones from Beth’s apartment, but those scare you less than one of you and Jack from the baseball game. He’s sitting on your shoulders, arms raised in triumph as you smile at someone out of frame. A bolt of adrenaline rushes through you. PTSD is a hell of a drug. Your therapist will need a raise this week. 

“Blake,” Reid says, and your heart lightens a little. At least she’s able to answer her phone. “We'll pick you up in a few minutes. The Replicator's back.” 

+++

The four of you eventually make it back to the hotel. It’s a miracle Aaron managed to weave in and out of the New York traffic like he did - any layperson would see a gridlock, but somehow he always finds a route. 

You settle in the lobby as JJ and Derek arrive. Dave heads upstairs to find Strauss. It feels a little chaotic, but everyone seems to be in one piece so far. Every little bit of your resiliency training is doing heavy lifting, keeping you upright and functional. 

Aaron, standing beside you and working with the other agents as they arrive, gets a phone call. 

“Yeah, Dave….We’ll be right up.” He hangs up and gestures to you and Spencer. 

The two of you follow him into the elevator without a word, finally reaching Erin’s room. 

The room is trashed, plastic bottles from the minibar scattered all over the floor, bed unmade, chairs overturned… 

“The window's open,” Dave says. ”She'd never sleep like that.” 

“Did something happen to make her drink again?” Aaron asks, his tone absent of judgement. He’s fallen completely into fact-finding mode, probably hoping to God this isn’t a repeat of last time. 

“No! She was working real hard at –” Something catches his eye on the table. He holds it up for you to see. It’s a red and gold coin with 12 embossed on one side. “This represents a year sober. She hasn't let go of it since she got it. She's even a sponsor now.” He pauses. “The Replicator has her. I'll check the roof.” 

Aaron nods. “I'll have Morgan meet you up there.” You and Spencer get out of the way, just in time to bump into Derek, JJ, and Blake in the hallway. 

“Strauss is missing.” Aaron looks to each one of you, confirming your assignments. “Blake, you and Reid talk to hotel security. We need access points and footage from every camera. Morgan, back up Dave on the roof. JJ, take the west staircase, I'll take the east.” He looks to you last. “Go with JJ.” 

You nod once. It’s almost strange that he doesn’t want you at his back, but you figure he can take care of himself. 

The west staircase is completely clear—no sign of anything.

“What do you think, Jayje?” 

She takes a breath. “The roof?” 

You get a call. “Dave? Do you need backup?”

“No. Hotch found Erin. I just called for an ambulance but…” 

“Dave. They’re on their way. Do we have anything for an APB?” 

“Not yet.” 

+++

You reach Aaron and Strauss at a dead sprint, but it’s too late. 

She’s gone. 

Your eyes sting with tears as you take in the scene before you. Aaron has Strauss wrapped tightly in his arms, holding her lifeless body close to him, almost cradling her. He looks at Dave, mournful and gutted. He turns, resting his head on Erin’s, bringing her closer. 

She didn’t die alone. That in itself is a small comfort. 

Your mind takes you, against your will, to a flash of Aaron holding Haley’s body. You shudder and shake it off. Now is not the time. 

Dave looks shellshocked, and you can’t blame him.

That’s three. 

Aaron, Spencer, Dave. 

Your heart breaks. You’re certain it’s audible.

The ambulance arrives, followed by the crime scene techs, but it feels like you’re rooted in place. Aaron doesn’t move, staring into space, his thumb worrying the knuckle on his middle finger. You’ve seen that look before—when he was barely standing after losing Haley.

The EMTs check him over but it’s clear he’s unharmed. You crouch beside him, placing a hand on his knee. 

“Are you okay?” 

It’s a stupid question. Of course, he’s not okay. His mind probably went to the same place yours did. 

You’re proud of him when he shakes his head. “No, but we have to keep moving.” He puts a hand over yours. It’s cold. He stands, dropping your hand. “I have a couple of calls to make. See what you can do.” 

You squeeze his arm once and let go as he rises, stepping away from you. 

JJ returns from her canvas and you join the huddle. She’s already talking, briefing Alex, Spencer and Derek. “We've got an APB, but the description of the Replicator is too general.”

“He wiped out all of the hotel security cameras,” Reid adds. “ATM and traffic cameras were compromised also. Which means he hacked into at least two dozen systems.” 

Dave stands away from you all, turning the coin in his hand, staring at it. 

“Well, he got into Garcia's place, which means he can get in anywhere.” Derek is thoughtful, still. “This guy's bragging.”

You nod once. “He also wants us to know he can take massive risks and still get away with it. It's probably why he took Strauss into a crowd of people.” 

“That and to humiliate her publicly,” JJ says. 

Your eyes stray to Dave, who still stands vigil by Erin’s sheet-covered body. 

Alex doesn’t look convinced. “But he called Hotch from her phone. It was important to him that we find her alive.” 

You have a weird gut feeling about the phone call coming to Aaron, almost like it’s another targeted mind game. It’s eerily similar. You shake it off. 

He can’t know about the Foyet case. It’s not public. And it’s classified.

Aaron returns. “The Director wants this contained and solved.” 

“Well, at least he's not taking us off the case,” Derek says. 

“He's given us 24 hours and then he will.” He effectively dismisses the five of you, turning to Dave. You stay close. 

“I’m taking her back to Bethesda,” Dave says. “She never liked this city, Aaron. I’m not about to leave her.” 

+++

With a plan in place, the rest of the team heads for the jet. You stand in the hangar for a moment, solidifying everything with Jess over the phone before you board and take off. 

“You’re sure you can come get him?” You ask. Even with a team of marshals at Beth’s apartment, something in you is activated by leaving Jack alone in New York. 

We’re the targets. He’s safer without us. 

It goes against every instinct you have, but you know it’s true. 

“Of course,” Jess replies. “I’d come up tonight if there were any trains running.” 

“There will be a car for you when you get here and the detail will take you home. I’ll send you pictures of the agents.”

“Is it that bad?”

You sigh. “It could be. We’re headed back on the jet now.” 

“Fly safe,” she says. You’re proud of her for trying to hide the waver in her voice. 

You catch Aaron’s eye as he joins Dave by Erin’s casket. His hand, in his pocket, peeks out and beckons you over. You stay a little ways away, but you can hear them. 

“Is Jack staying here?” Dave asks. 

“Just overnight. Jess is coming to get him in the morning and I have the marshals at Beth’s apartment.” He pauses, looking briefly back at you before turning back. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Dave looks at you, standing sentinel by the wing of the plane, then back at Aaron. “You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I know.” Aaron is almost inaudible from here. Your heart pulls. 

“Her children want to meet me at Bethesda.”

“How old are they now?” 

“Too young for this.” He wipes his eyes and fixes them on the casket. He’s not really looking at it, more through it. 

Aaron is the man he is at home, with you, standing beside one of his oldest friends. You know this is something he never wants anyone to understand - the pain of losing your other half, the piercing and unique mark it leaves on the soul. “Are you alright?”

Your gaze drops to the ground. It feels wrong to stay where you can hear, but something compels Aaron to draw you closer.

“She smells of booze, Aaron.” He lifts his head, meeting Aaron’s eyes. “You and I know it’s because that bastard took away her dignity, but her children might not believe that. It’s hard for them to trust anything to do with her drinking.” They both look at the casket, where Erin rests. “She struggled with it all her life. She was finally beating it.” 

Dave tosses Erin’s sobriety coin, letting it spin before catching it again. 

Aaron reaches out and lays his hand on Dave’s shoulder. It looks almost like a benediction, something more than comfort, more than simple connection. It’s all at once a prayer and an assertion that yes, indeed, you are here with him and for him. 

+++

“He knew about Foyet,” Aaron says, quiet under the roar of the plane. The pair of you sit on the couch, with you lounging against the wall, Aaron’s head in your lap. You’re half asleep, your fingers combing through his hair. 

You startle and he sits up. You bow toward him, your hand reaching out for his shoulder. “What?”

“He - he taunted me. He asked me if it reminded me of the call with - with Haley.” His eyes are downcast, his expression grim. “How I wasn’t fast enough. That I didn’t make it in time.”

You didn’t want to be right about the feeling you had earlier. It makes your stomach roll with nausea. That aside, you have a new insight for your profile. 

It takes a unique kind of psychopathy to go out of your way to seek out, target, and torture the subject of your fixation with their own PTSD triggers. To isolate Aaron’s fears and execute a reenactment of the worst day of his life takes planning, insight, and -

Shit. 

Knowledge. 

The archived Foyet case is heavily redacted—even for those who can find the sole remaining paper copy—but the original, unredacted report was released to a select few. To your knowledge, it was placed under a Top Secret/Polygraph access threshold before going to the oversight committee on the Hill. 

Very few people, indeed. A sinking, horrifying feeling drops into your gut. 

“Bastard.” It's an understatement. Your voice is low and a little broken. You wrap your arms around Aaron as he ducks into you, his head under your chin, taking refuge in your body. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Me too.”

+++

While some of you get some sleep on the plane, you’re all amped when you land at Quantico. 

“He mentioned Foyet to me on the phone,” Aaron says to the team, silent in the elevator. His hand is tight around yours and he keeps it as you all step off and into the BAU bullpen. 

JJ balks. “He knew about Foyet?” 

“Who's that?” Blake asks. 

“He's the man who killed my wife,” he replies frankly and without hesitation, squeezing your hand. Your heart pulls, even as you notice the strange sort of confusion on Alex’s face as she looks at you. 

You look back at her, clarifying, “That's a classified case that's not in any database.” You know that’s not the question she didn’t ask, but it’s the one you can answer right now.

“Then how would he know about it?” She asks.

“If he had access to the file,” Reid says. “We're talking about someone on the inside.”

That’s unfortunately the conclusion you came to as well. He could be anywhere. 

Aaron breaks away from you and heads to his office. “Conference room in five.”

Alex steps up next to you as you stop at your desk. “If you don’t mind me asking…” 

You look up at her. “Not at all.” You take a breath and pick up one of the photo frames on your desk, handing it to Alex. Haley smiles up at her. “Aaron’s wife Haley was murdered in 2008 by a serial killer the BAU had been hunting since the 90s. He played us, hard, and we got hurt.” You look up at Aaron’s office. “Hotch and I—we, um—” 

“No need to put it into words if you can’t find them.” Blake says, placing the frame back in its home next to your monitor. 

Spoken like a true linguist. 

You let out a halfhearted chuckle. “Thanks. Ready to go?” 

Blake nods and follows you to the conference room. You take a seat even though you feel restless. Aaron joins you only moments later. 

He stands behind you, placing his hands on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulders. “Garcia, is this everything?” 

You feel a little left out. Everyone’s standing.

“Yeah,” Penelope replies. “The Replicator stuff is here, and the team stuff is there and there.” She turns to Derek, who has crossed to the board, looking over the photos. “How's Rossi?” 

“Not good,” he answers, low and rough.   

“Is he with Strauss?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” She focuses back in, messing with her tablet and the monitor. “Uh - uh, I started with the question you asked - why attack Strauss, and on this day?”

You shrug. ”The most obvious answer is that it's an anniversary of some sort.” 

Penelope counters, “But there's nothing historically relevant.” You know she checked already and you’re so thankful she’s on your side. 

“It could be the smallest thing.” Spencer says, “Concentrate on New York. If the date's that important, the setting could be, too.”

JJ’s running through the givens in her head, thinking about what you already know and what you have left to consider. “It would be easier to attack Strauss at home. Is there a reason why he waited for her to be out?”

“Well,” Derek says, turning back toward the board, “considering she's hardly ever in the field, he sure got a lot of photos of Strauss.”

“It's like he's obsessed with her.” You pause, considering. “Maybe Strauss was always his first target. He attacked the top of the BAU chain first.”

Aaron’s directions come from over your head, his hands still firmly planted on the back of your chair. “Alright, Reid, you've matched up all the murder locations with the dates. Now we need to know how long it would take to drive to each of these locations, assuming a home base in the district.“ He pauses, casting his gaze on the rest of you. “He brought the fight here for a reason.”

”Well,” Derek says, “it's nearly impossible to figure out when he arrived and departed New York, but we should try.” 

Penelope gathers her tablet, “I'll collect all the public and private transport stuff.” 

Aaron stops her on her way out, meeting her eyes with a grave and gentle kind of severity. “Garcia, I need Kevin to go through every single pixel of these photographs. This unsub gets off on taunting us. He's given us answers here. We just haven't found them yet.”

Penelope has only seen that look once or twice. She nods and gets to work. Everyone else peels off, but stays close. 

You’re finally left alone with Aaron in the round table room, but he’s already got his phone to his ear, running along some train of thought he hasn’t bothered to articulate to you yet. He must have called Penelope only moments after she left, adding to her plate. “Garcia, before you and Lynch get started on the photos, pull the original cases for me before the system goes completely offline. I’d like to review them.” He hangs up. 

“Let me run to the basement really quick.” You rise from your chair, closing your tablet and tucking it under your arm. You talk fast, not looking up at Aaron as you consolidate your printed information to drop at your desk. “There might be hard copies down there, Jamie in archives works fast, and with the system down, we -” You turn to leave, but suddenly—fingers close firmly around your wrist. Not hard. Just certain. You whip around, startled to find a wild sort of look in Aaron’s eyes.

"‘No.’ His voice is quiet, but the weight behind it stops you cold.

Your pulse jumps. Aaron never stops you. Never holds you back. Not unless—"

"Aaron?” You take a step toward him, lacing your fingers with his, trying to ground him. “Talk to me.”

He swallows, his jaw flexing. “I need you to stay with me or Morgan until this man is in custody. Do you understand?”

Oh.

Oh. 

Your stomach drops. “What exactly did the Replicator say to you on the phone?” You don’t mean to make him relive it, but this guy is in Aaron’s head, big time. 

“He mentioned you by name, said it would be a ‘real shame’ if this job cost me someone else.” 

You squeeze his hand. 

He continues. “Erin said that the Replicator told her to tell me ‘I’ll race you home’ and she asked me if that meant anything to me.”

“Aaron…” 

“Please do not leave my sight.” He blinks rapidly a couple of times and you know he’s trying desperately to keep it together. “Please. It’s hard enough with Jack -“ He cuts himself off in an attempt to maintain what fortitude he has left. “If he’s an agent, and he’s finding ways to get to us, one by one, I can’t give him the opportunity to…” 

“I know.” You nod. It’s devastating to see him beg, to plead with you like this when he doesn’t have to. “I know.”

He pulls you close and fervently kisses your forehead before wrapping his arms around you. You let yourself fall into him, gripping the back of his shirt. It almost feels like he’s fighting to get you as close as possible. You can feel him looking behind you, out the window, likely studying every single person in or out of the bullpen. 

+++

Once Spencer has a preliminary timeline for the Replicator’s travel, Aaron calls them all back into the round table room. You remain standing this time, across from Aaron, over JJ’s shoulder. Before any of you can provide an update, Aaron’s phone rings. 

“Hotchner…” He pulls his phone from his ear, putting it on speaker and laying it on the table. “Dave, a figure eight?” 

“That's what it looks like. I just sent you all a picture.”

You squint at the picture, zooming in. 

“Maybe it's an infinity symbol,” JJ says. 

Alex sounds skeptical. “Well, if it's infinity, he could be boasting ‘I'll go on forever’?”

You purse your lips, thinking and turning the photo to the side. “Or if it's an eight, Strauss was his eighth victim.”

“There are eight of us,” JJ says. “Strauss could be considered the ninth, or alternatively, the odd man out.”

“If this is a taunt from him,” Aaron says, “it's too random.” 

He would have authority on that, being the last person the Replicator taunted with alarming specificity.  

Derek looks up, gesturing to the case files and his tablet. “Well, he's only sent one message and he seems to be real proud of it.”

“Zugzwang,” Spencer confirms. 

“Then what does this mean?” JJ asks, flatly. It’s almost rhetorical. She casts her voice to the phone on the table. “Rossi, the cut looks jagged. Any idea, what caused the serration?”

“Best guess is a piece of glass,” he replies.

Derek’s brow furrows. “Maybe he used empty bottles from the mini bar?”

“Those were all plastic. The M.E. is checking for splinters now.”

“Alright, let us know what you find out.” Aaron hangs up, looking at Penelope. “Anything from the photographs yet?”

“We blew up a few more and this one seems to stand out,” Derek says, pushing a photo of himself at some kind of formal event, behind a podium, into the middle of the table. 

"Since when do you wear tuxedos?" you ask, lifting the photo for a closer look.

“It was a British embassy event in London. Security clearance is high.”

“Security was insane there,” Penelope confirms. “That kind of accessibility, plus knowing about Foyet, the fact that he was able to get through all of my security clearances alone, you guys are right. You have to trust your gut. The Replicator has gotta be on the inside.”

+++

“If the Replicator's an insider, is there any way Strauss knew him?” you ask, stirring a little sugar into your coffee. 

“She said she didn't recognize him,” Aaron says. He crosses his arms, his back to the bullpen as you all sit at the table in the kitchen. A change of scenery was necessary after about three hours of deliberation. 

“To her defense,” you add, challenging him a little. It is your job, after all. “She was disoriented by the drug overdose.” 

He shakes his head. “No, she was adamant about it.” 

Alright. That holds water. 

JJ sits beside Derek with her own cup of coffee as he begins to speak. “Well, even if Strauss didn't know him, it doesn't mean he didn't know her.”

“Within the Bureau, she is the face of the BAU,” Alex says. 

JJ nods. “And clearly a target from the beginning.”

“But why?” Spencer asks. He continues. “More importantly, what was he replicating?”

“The drug overdose?” You tell him, like it’s obvious.

Spencer shakes his head, “I mean with the eight. It hasn't been part of any other case, and he's not one to make mistakes. He thought he was replicating a crime.”

Now, that gets Aaron thinking. You watch his eyes narrow as the wheels turn in his head. “The Director made us walk away from the case a few months ago. Strauss said that she wouldn't let it go.” He looks at you. “What if she hadn't?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think she started her own investigation?”

“Well, if she thought he was an insider, she might have done something to trap him.”

“Why wouldn't she have told you about that back in New York?” Derek asks. 

“Maybe she didn’t have proof,” Aaron says, meeting each of the team’s eyes in turn.

There’s that lawyer again. 

“But her determination, plus the fact that he doesn't make mistakes makes me think that the eight was part of her plan to catch him.” 

You look around as Aaron speaks, finding thoughtful faces and more than a few nods. Aaron sets you on course, now that you’re all on the same page. 

“Do we have her laptop?”

“I got it. It’s in her office.” You jump up, but Derek joins you like a well-trained shadow. 

If the FBI doesn’t work out, he’d make a helluva bouncer. 

He follows you to the eighth floor, where you lead him into Strauss’s office. You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve entered this room without hesitation or anxiety. 

Her laptop sits on her desk, pristine. You grab it, tucking it under your arm, and face Derek. 

“Did Aaron tell-slash-order you to stay with me?” You ask. You don’t mind (mostly), but if they’re talking about you behind your back, no matter the reason, you’d like to be informed. 

“No,” Derek replies simply. “I just can’t imagine he’s gonna be comfortable with the team being targeted like this. Especially with that phone call and Strauss lying dead on a slab downstairs.” He pauses. “And I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye ever again if something happened to you where I could stop it.” 

+++

You half-jog behind Aaron, walking purposefully down the hall to Penelope’s dungeon. As promised, you're staying within his sight as much as is reasonable. 

“This is Strauss' laptop,” he informs both Penelope and Kevin as he opens the door. They both look up from their monitors. “I need to access who was on the distribution list for my case reports.” 

“You don't know who reads your reports?” Penelope asks, a frown on her face.

“I know she sent them to the head of the criminal division and the Director, but I don't know who else is on the list.” 

Kevin types for a moment and spins the laptop toward you and Aaron. “The last case she sent in was the case in Detroit.” 

“The Cutter,” you remind him needlessly. 

His brows pull together, low across his eyes. “She amended the report and said that the unsub cut a figure eight into his victims' wrists.”

Bingo. 

“But he didn't do that,” Penelope says. 

Aaron glances up at her. “No, he didn't. “

“So, she duped him,” you say, trying to keep your eagerness to a minimum. 

Penelope picks up right where you left off. “Which means that one of the people reading these reports has gotta be the Replicator.”

Aaron turns the laptop toward Kevin “It doesn't show who else saw this.” 

Kevin pulls the laptop closer and you circle him, only crowding him a little. “Two other people read the report,” he says, showing you. Your expression turns sour.

“Who?” Aaron asks, looking at you. 

You sigh. “You’re going to need a tie.” 

+++

Derek drives you home for a change of clothes and one of Aaron’s suits, your marshal detail following you. He stands by the front door, rigid and watchful. 

“Black, blue, or brown?” You call. It’s irrelevant, but focusing on something trivial suppresses the stress bubbling in the center of your consciousness. 

You hear Derek’s steps on the carpet and he appears in the doorway. “It’s the Hill, so I would say black blends in best.” 

“Blue, it is.” You select your favorite - the navy suit with pinstripes he wore to Berry Hill, a solid baby blue button down, adding navy socks for good measure. As for ties, you pick a blue-gray one that always reminds you a little of scales.

Scales for the snake pit. 

His suit laying over your arm, you shove his clothes to the side, stirring a breeze and getting a noseful of Aaron that makes you smile. You grab something for the office and tactical blacks, just in case you need to get on the road. On your way out, you snag a garment bag off the closet door, hanging the suit inside it. 

You smooth down the garment bag when you’re done, turning to find Derek watching you with a funny little look on his face. 

“What?” 

“You’ve settled in nicely.” 

You roll your eyes. “Derek, it’s been a year and a half.” 

“No, I know. You just seem…” He searches for the word. “At home, here.” 

“It is my home,” you tell him flatly, passing him in the hallway. 

Derek scoffs. “You know what I mean.” 

You can give him that one. “I do know what you mean.” You almost speak your thoughts aloud, but you refrain. “What I was thinking will make you gag, so I’ll spare you.”

He leans on the hallway arch. “No, c’mon, what is it?”

"It’s easy to feel at home because… well, he is my home."

Derek groans dramatically. “Yeah, okay, I regret asking.”

+++

It seems everything about this case is triggering in one way or another. As you step into Aaron’s office, your refreshed go bag in one hand and a garment bag hanging over your other arm, you’re starkly reminded of the late nights in this very room when Aaron would sit behind his desk for hours, poring over the Foyet case.

You only realize you’ve frozen when Aaron steps up behind you, taking your bag from your hand and placing it by the door. You startle and he immediately apologizes, placing a hand on your waist as he passes you. 

“You okay sleeping in Derek’s office tonight?”

You nod, hanging the garment bag on the little hook behind the door. “Yeah. You need to be rested for your visit to the capitol tomorrow. I’m not about to take your couch.”

“I hate the thought of you sleeping in an armchair,” he says, drawing you close and resting his hands on your lower back. 

You shake your head, bringing your hands to his chest. This green really is a gorgeous color on him - it’s a shame you couldn’t enjoy it. “Not the first time, certainly not the last time,” you remind him with a half-smile. 

He sighs. “I would send you home, but -”

…And there’s the Elle trauma. Put that on the list. 

“I know. He’s a wildcard. Even an insider can’t access Derek’s locked office.” And Derek always locks his office. “And going home is a risk, especially with Jess and Jack coming back in the morning.”

He only addresses the first part of your comment. You suspect he’s compartmentalizing, keeping even his thoughts far from Jack to avoid crumbling from the stress. “I had bomb squad and hazmat clear Morgan’s office when we got back.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Overkill, much?” 

He shakes his head. “Never.” 

+++

The following morning, you sit on your desk in a loose circle with Blake, JJ, Spencer, and Derek. Blake sits in her chair, JJ in hers. Spencer stands, catching thought-volleys from the middle, and Derek mirrors you, sitting on JJ’s desk. You’ve been going through everything together. 

This is your favorite way to profile, a classic, Socratic circle where you all bounce off of each other, fusing ideas and finding new insights one brain would have missed. 

Your phone buzzes. It’s Aaron. 

10:56am Fax machine. 

You stand and hop over to the ancient fax machine in the corner, standing by as the lists come through. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Derek asks. 

You hold up one of the pages as it comes through. “Looks like Hotch’s visit to the Hill was successful this morning. We have a list.” 

You gather the pages and make copies, handing them out. When you’re done, you pull your phone. 

11:14am Thank you <3 Printed and distro’d.

He replies almost immediately. 

11:14am <3s are unprofessional. 11:14am See me later.

You suppress a smile and return to your seat. 

“At least this narrows it down,” Alex says. “Finding someone on the inside should be easier. 

“Not necessarily,” Spencer replies. “If our unsub was trained by law enforcement, he'd know how to fit in perfectly.”

Your turn. “There's meaning and purpose to everything he does.”

“Why did he choose to replicate the Silencer case?” Derek asks, looking at you. 

JJ answers instead. “Well, that unsub went dormant for years 'cause he was locked up. Is that a clue about the Replicator?”

“Well, it speaks to his patience,” Derek says. What about his M.O.? He sewed mouths shut.”

“It symbolizes keeping secrets,” Alex muses. “There could be something in that.”

Spencer squints. “He's targeting everyone. So how does that particular case factor into all of us?”

“It's the first one Garcia and I worked on with Blake,” Derek offers. 

You make a skeptical kind of noise. “Yeah, but the rest of us worked on the Seattle case before that. The unsub who used his kid to bait the victims.”

Spencer looks back at Blake. “We need to see if he replicated that one.” 

“I’ll go see Garcia,” Derek says.

+++

Derek gets the reports from the replicated Seattle case and Blake gets up to copy them, feeling restless. 

You roll your phone over in your hand, thinking and staring into space. Movement catches your eye and you watch Spencer stop JJ from approaching Dave as he walks into the bullpen. He doesn’t look at any of you, walking up the stairs.

JJ watches him, turning back to you, looking helpless. All of you exchange looks as Rossi crosses the bridge and steps into his office without a word. 

The five of you eventually huddle around the Seattle case file, compliments of ViCAP and Penelope, bouncing ideas about what this one means to your meticulous unsub. 

Aaron appears through the glass doors, his stride measured but purposeful. Your heart leaps a little. It’s been years, of course, but you’ve never stopped feeling that flash of… something when he shows up unannounced.

His gaze sweeps across the bullpen, landing on each of you in turn. "Conference room. Now."

You all file in, standing in a near-identical circle to your huddle downstairs, except there's a table in the middle. 

Aaron doesn’t hesitate once you’re all in and settled, speaking quickly and crisply. “A dozen federal employees have read our case files over the last two years - that was the list I faxed over. They all went through the highest levels of security. Each of those names needs to be checked against Reid's list.”

“We should get them all in here and start the interrogations,” Alex says.

Aaron hesitates. “If he knows we're looking his way, he might retreat.” He looks at JJ. “We should also check the support staff of all those employees.”

“Each one has two assistants, so we're already up to 36 people,” she replies. 

Spencer, as always, has more criteria to nail it down. “We should start with agents who work a four-tens schedule, given the fact that most of the murders happened over a long weekend, which means if the unsub traveled by car, no one at work would've missed them.”

“Well, he probably wouldn't fly,” JJ notes. “It would leave a paper trail.”

You hand Aaron the copycat case file from Seattle. He looks at you, really, for the first time since returning. “What's this?”

“The Replicator's first case was the same as mine,” Blake says. “Remember the sadist who made Ridgeway look tame?”

He looks over the file. “In Seattle, so it wasn't the Silencer.” 

“Do you think it's a coincidence he started all of this when I joined the team?”

“I don't know,” he says. His focus shifts past you, down the bridge. “Dave's back?” You nod and he excuses himself. 

Derek follows him, and you can hear the brief. “He's only been back a few minutes; it looks like it's hitting him pretty hard.”

You all review the Seattle file and help Reid with his lists. You’re tuned into Aaron, though, who has apparently passed Dave in favor of his own office. The director has been calling him almost non-stop. Without Strauss, the management apparatus for the section has fallen apart. You can see how easily Aaron could assume that role. 

“Rossi, what the hell are you doing?”

Derek’s voice carries and you drop your file, stepping out onto the bridge warily as Aaron leaves his office. 

He sees something that slows his movement and treads carefully. You can’t see past Derek - you can’t even see Rossi. Aaron looks over his shoulder and waves you off. You stay back, but you don’t go far. The team continues on without you, conversation flowing freely. 

Aaron steps into Dave’s office. His shoulders are stiff and his posture is purposefully open. You see him lean forward, his arm extended. To your shock, he tucks a gun into the waistband at his lower back.

You catch only a little of what Derek says as he leaves the office: “… paramedics.” He runs down the stairs, skipping the last four. 

You step out fully, your hands on the railing. “Derek, what -?”

“He drugged Rossi.” 

He was here. 

The on-site emergency medical arrives within minutes, and Aaron stays with Dave until he’s rolled out on the gurney. The rest of you stand just inside the bullpen. Watching. Waiting. 

Aaron walks back through the glass doors, his expression unreadable. You know that face—it’s the one he wears when he’s barely holding something together. 

He exhales once, measured, before speaking. "They've given him a sedative and they’re gonna take him to the infirmary. He’ll be okay."

“How did it get into his system?” Alex asks.

“The report must have been dusted with whatever he used on Strauss,” Aaron answers.

“Luckily,” Spencer says, fidgeting only a little, “the transdermal absorption rate was lower than her ingestion of it, so it wasn't fatal for Rossi.”

“Then this was a warning,” JJ says. 

You shake your head. “If he wanted to kill Rossi, he had every chance to do it.”

“If this is his endgame,” Alex asks, “why is he wasting time with warnings?

Aaron answers. “He's toying with us and we're playing into him. He's turned Rossi against Morgan. Even if it was temporary, he wanted to show it could be done.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “But why?”

Derek returns from his call, cell phone in hand. “Strauss was dosed with a chemical cousin of Doctor Death. He altered it so her torture would be longer.”

“A biochemist, computer hacker, and federal agent?” JJ walks through it, looking about as concerned as you feel. “Who the hell is this guy?”

You all stare at each other for a few seconds. When nothing new comes to mind, Aaron dismisses you all. “Conference room in fifteen. I want to review the security footage.”

The rest of the team scatters, but you follow him to his office, taking your usual chair. “How was the Hill?”

“Terrible,” he replies. 

“Did you have to deal with Speese again?” 

He nods grimly. “He’s the chair of the Intelligence Committee, unfortunately.”

“He’s also,” you pause for comedic effect, “an asshole.” 

Your comment has its intended effect. Aaron offers you the ghost of a smile. “He is. He also said hello to you, by the way.” 

“Well, I do not say hello back.” 

“I figured you wouldn’t.” He looks back down, adding his incident report notes for the Dave situation to his ever-growing file. “So,” he starts, getting back to business. “What do you think?” 

You mirror him, fixing your posture and dropping back into Work Mode. “He’s obviously meticulous, well-organized, has space for the amount of biochemistry and technology that he uses, he knows Strauss, and he’s on one of our lists. We just have to narrow it down.” 

“Do you think this is about Alex as well?”

“I think she’s involved in his fixation, for sure. Between her and Strauss, there has to be a link there.” You pause. “Is Dave really going to be okay?” 

Aaron sighs. “I think so. Obviously the loss will be hard on him, but he can take the leave he needs and we’ll be there for him.”

“For better or worse, if anyone knows what he’s going through, it’s us.” 

“Right.” Aaron looks up from his paperwork, meeting your eyes. You have no doubt he’s thinking the same thing as you. 

I wish we didn’t understand. 

He stands, breaking the spell and offering you a hand as he rounds his desk. “Ready?” 

You join him. “Yessir.”

He kisses the back of your hand and then lets it go. 

+++

Penelope stands in front of the large monitor and you watch as security footage plays on screen. “Only half the cameras are working because the system is still rebooting itself, so the security guards have to go old school. That means everyone has to sign in. You can't take your ID and run it through - well, you know what old school means. So, if you have a badge, you don't get harassed. The man who signed in to see Rossi went up to the sixth floor, held the door open for Kevin and Anderson…”

Kevin looks dumbfounded. “I can't believe he was right there.”

“Walked through our BAU into Rossi's office,” Penelope continues, “signed in as Adam Worth.”

Spencer perks up. “Adam Worth?” 

“Isn't that the same alias he used when Maeve went missing?” JJ asks. 

Spencer nods. “Yeah, which means it's not just a taunt. It speaks directly to his psychology. Adam Worth was a famous criminal from the late 1800s, commonly referred to as the Napoleon of Crime. This unsub obviously sees himself in the same light.”

“So,” Derek says, his brows pulled together, “this guy is a malignant narcissist who wants to be known as the worst enemy we've ever had.”

You look at Aaron. That’s a high bar. 

His eyebrow twitches, his arms crossed. Tell me about it.

“And look,” Blake says, gesturing to the monitor, “he's careful to hide his face from the cameras.” 

“Because he knows exactly where they are,” Aaron agrees, grim and low. 

+++

You look over Alex’s shoulder as she creates a list of all of the Replicator’s taunts so far. 

Strauss - New York

Reid - Zugzwang

JJ - Flowers

Garcia - Computer 

Morgan - DNA

Rossi - Poison

Hotch - Foyet Phone Call

For you, she has the photo at the crime scene listed. 

When it’s all laid out like this, it looks like you and JJ got off light. In hindsight, the photo did rattle you quite a bit, but you’ve figured out that the thing he was trying to target was exactly what Philadelphia PD’s very own Rizzo played into - your reputation. Strauss covered a lot of blowback when you and Aaron disclosed. She kept your team together because you assured her you could remain professional and not let it affect your work. The Replicator, with the photo of you and Aaron, attacked that very premise. 

Alex sighs, looking over her list. “The Replicator has directly taunted everyone on this team except for me.” 

“You may be part of his endgame,” you tell her, taking a seat beside Spencer. 

“Then so was Strauss,” she says. 

“He chose to use drugs as his final replication,” JJ notes. “That's no accident.”

“Is that a connection to you?” There’s genuine curiosity in Aaron’s inquiry. This is something, of course, that the two of you discussed in his office. You’re curious too - mostly wondering if you were right. 

“Strauss and I had issues during the Amerithrax case. It started in New York with poison.” 

“And it was delivered by envelopes,” Spencer adds. 

Derek shifts in his seat. “Why would anyone on the inside hold resentment over that case?”

“Because that person suffered a professional setback just like Blake,” Aaron says. 

You add to his thought, “- but was patient and psychotic enough to get revenge.” 

Penelope rushes in, two files in her hands, and starts talking immediately. “I am all over the DOJ names including support staff. I have Kevin pulling files and photos. System is down, so it's hard to check entire career paths, but there were two agents in New York in 2001. Scratch that- Lehman died in October - that leaves Curtis.” Penelope plonks a file down in front of Alex.

Alex flips through the file. Her face goes still, and for a moment, she doesn't say anything.

"Wait a second..." Her fingers tighten on the page. "John Curtis?"

“You know him?” Penelope asks. 

“I haven't seen him in a long time. He was a nice guy. We were first office agents together, but I thought he left the Bureau after the Amerithrax case.”

Aaron jumps on it. “Could it be him? Does he fit the profile?”

“He was quiet and a loner, but brilliant. He specialized in a lot of fields, but his passion…” She pauses, “was biochemistry.”

+++

You’re thankful you thought to pack your tac blacks. You change in Aaron’s office, the shades drawn. He answers an email, standing over his desk. 

“So, we’re taking the choppers?” You zip your fleece, shoving your credentials in your pocket. 

He nods. “I’ll fly one of them with a co-pilot and we’ll have someone outside the unit fly the other.” 

“Where am I going to be?” You ask. It’s not a leading question - you’re genuinely curious. 

“You’ll be with me,” he answers quickly. He crosses to you, getting the velcro under one arm while you handle the other side. There’s something hidden behind his answer, but now is not the time nor the place. 

You snatch your phone off the coffee table and turn back toward him. “Let’s go.”

+++

The six of you walk with extreme purpose down the hallway, taking the stairs to the roof. 

Penelope briefs you as you go through your comms. “He inherited a family compound in rural Virginia. Coordinates on your phone.” 

“What else do you have on Curtis?” Alex asks, turning her head toward her mic.

“Just like you thought. John Curtis was demoted in the FBI after the Amerithrax case. He was slated to take over the coveted New York field office, but then was shipped to the not coveted Kansas City one. He worked there for many years quietly before he was able to weasel his way back into the nation's capital. On paper he is a rock star. He immediately transferred to the Department of Justice, the intelligence oversight section. He's a genius on multiple levels.”

You spare a thought for James Comey, who reinstated the physical fitness testing. He’s probably the only reason you’re not in a puddle on the landing by the tenth floor. 

“What's his background?” Aaron, of course, the king of cardio and runner extraordinaire, is hardly out of breath. 

“Only child, parents died when he was eighteen. Never married. Total loner, just like Blake said.”

“Then all he's ever had to care about is his work,” Aaron says. 

Derek sounds resigned as you reach the roof. “And when he lost that, he snapped.”

+++

"Hey, Hotch,” Derek pulls him aside, away from the noise of the rotors. His voice is low. “Are you sure about this?"

Aaron tightens his jaw, checking his watch like the conversation isn’t happening. “It’s what the situation demands.”

Derek doesn’t buy it. He leans in. “That’s not an answer, man.” He pauses, mindful of the time. “I know this guy got in your head - he’s got all of us on edge - but we have to make the right choice, here. I know you’re flying, but…”

Aaron’s mouth tightens, pulling into a thin line. “Morgan.” He takes a breath and Derek is horrified to hear a shake in it. “I am making the only choice I can live with, and I need you to get on board. I know you would make a different choice  -”

Derek places a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, cutting him off. “I get it. It doesn’t matter what I’d do. I’ll see you both when we get there.”

Aaron leaves Derek and takes his seat in the cockpit, adjusting the controls and finishing up pre-flight checks. You put on your headphones, strapping yourself into the six-point harness. 

“You good?” Alex asks. You can hear her clearly in your headset, but you turn the volume up a little. 

“All good. Spence?”

Spencer doesn’t reply, but offers you a thumbs up as he tightens his six-point. 

You tap on the back of Aaron’s seat, making sure your mic is on. “Aaron, we’re all good back here when you’re ready.” 

“10-4. Thank you,” comes the crisp reply. 

You’re in the air moments later, rising from the helicopter pad on the roof in tandem with the other half of the team. You knew Aaron can fly almost anything, but it really is something else entirely to see him take the control column, flipping switches and turning knobs as you rise higher and higher, tipping forward to start your journey. 

Alex eyes you, watching you watch Aaron out of the corner of her eye. You shrug. 

Sue me. 

+++

As you get further and further away from Quantico, the lights on the ground get sparser. Aaron patches Penelope into the onboard channels. 

“HRT will divide us up when we land,” Aaron says, checking his instruments and fixing his gaze to the vast darkness ahead of you as the helicopters split. 

He patches Penelope into the channels, and after you all give a 10-2, signal good, she starts with what she’s found on John Curtis. 

“As you can see from the geo ref'd he's got plenty of privacy. Five and a half acres, three structures, house included.” 

Almost as soon as she finishes her thought, the screens turn to snow, all of the electronic instruments suddenly useless.

“Garcia,” Aaron says. There’s urgency, yes, but he’s not panicking. 

“I see it, too, sir. It must be some sort of system override.”

The helicopter pitches down and you reach out, holding onto the handle on the back of Aaron’s seat. Your stomach drops and you focus solely on keeping your mouth shut. The last thing you want is for Aaron to focus on you, even a little, when he’s handling… whatever this is. 

“What's happening?” Penelope asks. 

“Autopilot's seized,” the co-pilot says. Aaron attempts to override the seizure, pulling on the yoke as it moves, seemingly with a mind of its own. 

“Altitude. Altitude,” the Black Hawk’s warning system placidly tells you as you drop more than 100 feet. 

Aaron flips a final switch, and the helo stops descending, leveling out. “I got it back.”

“Are you okay?” Penelope asks. 

“We're stabilizing,” he assures her. 

You’re able to stay on course without any further incident for another few minutes. Aaron reaches back subtly with one hand and you briefly squeeze it before it disappears to the front once more. 

The controls shudder again and you take another breath. 

Maybe helicopters were not the move…

You flash to a conversation you and Aaron had, months ago, when he had to go re-up his flight hours to renew his license. 

“That’s the thing about helicopters and motorcycles, you only get so many rides. If you fly or drive them long enough…”

The implication spoke for itself. 

The alarms sound again, the warning system informing you that you’re losing altitude. 

The alarms blare, the cockpit flashing red. The helicopter dips, shuddering violently beneath you.

Aaron curses under his breath, both hands gripping the controls.

The co-pilot turns, his face grim. His eyes lock onto each of you—just for a second, just long enough to make it real.

“Brace for impact.”

You brace against the front seat, reaching a hand around to make contact with Aaron. Your hand lands on his ribs, over his vest, as he reaches for his own handles. His hand covers yours for a blink before returning to its proper place. 

Checking under your arm, you see that Alex and Spencer are properly braced as well, and you can hear their breathing in the headphones. 

That’s good. At least we’re all breathing. 

For now. 

You can’t see the ground, so it’s a shock when the helicopter touches down, hard. With your brace, there’s only the smallest downward impact on your body, but your back and legs receive an unpleasant jolt regardless. You take a deep breath, sitting up and feeling dizzy, disoriented. You don’t remember hitting your head…

You’re out before you can process your next thought, dropping back against your seat. 

+++

You come to as your door is wrenched open by JJ and Derek. 

“Are you guys alright?” Derek asks, his voice only a little touched by fear. 

You’re relieved when Aaron answers him. “Yeah.” Unfortunately, it sounds pained. 

JJ unclips your six-point with the emergency release on the seat, catching you a little as you attempt to step out. One of the SWAT agents does the same for Spencer. 

Derek’s flashlight stays low as JJ asks, “Where's Blake?” 

“What the hell is this?” Derek says, picking up a canister from the floor by your feet. “What is this?” 

You straighten and take it from him. “This looks like a quick-release gas canister to me.” 

Derek looks grim, taking it back from you as Aaron roughly clambers out of the pilot seat. You lurch forward, catching his right shoulder as he loses his balance. He holds fast to your arm and you’re thrilled he’s not treating you politely, trusting your strength as you bear most of his weight. 

“You okay?” He asks, straightening and checking you over. His hand ghosts over the side of your head, then down to your shoulder, taking stock. 

With a nod, you assure him you are. He takes you under his arm and the five of you walk away from the landing site, headed toward the SUV driven in from the Richmond office.

“If he'd wanted to kill all of us,” JJ points out, “he could have.”

“He's playing God, just like he's done all year.” Spencer almost sounds offended. “He hard-landed us, knocked us out with whatever was in that canister so he could take Blake.” 

Aaron squeezes you around the shoulders before letting you go, walking ahead to get back in the driver's seat of the SUV. If he were a weaker man, you’d be a little worried, but his threshold for mental and physical fortitude goes without saying, at this point. “He had plenty of chances to take her before tonight,” he says. “He wants it to be a spectacle.”

+++

You can see SWAT’s lights down the road as you pull up. Derek takes your hand to help you out of the car and you take it, patting his shoulder as soon as your feet touch the ground. 

“You okay?” He asks.

You puff a breath out through your mouth, shaking your head before you answer. It’s been a long day.

There’s no need. “Understood,” Derek says. 

The two of you join the rest of the team at the SWAT staging area. 

“Morgan,” Aaron says. “I want you to go through the breach plans. Look for tactical holes and opportunities for the Replicator to lay traps.” 

Derek nods, splitting off. 

“The rest of us will prepare for breach with SWAT.” 

+++

You take Aaron’s six with Spencer as you cross the vast yard and approach the cellar doors. Spencer looks at you and you nod once. 

Ready.

Aaron throws open the doors, allowing you and Spencer to cover for any threat on the stairs, before he resets and leads the way. You have a flashlight gripped tightly, crossed under your gun hand. 

The basement appears deserted, but difficult to clear on account of all the shelves. You find his photo processing space and clear it, doing your best to avoid the faces of your partner and almost-son in many of them. You startle a little when you see one from the cemetery, with you sitting on Haley’s bench and talking with your hands, your flowers resting on her gravestone. This guy is taking stalking to another level, apparently. 

Derek and JJ turn the corner and the three of you fall in line with them, finding Alex chained to a chair at the end of the hall, a gag in her mouth. 

JJ reaches her, removing the gag from her mouth. “Which way did he go?”

“I don't know,” Alex sounds exhausted.  

Aaron evaluates Alex, the locks, the chains, everything with a discerning eye. “Morgan, you and JJ find him. We've got this.”

You holster your weapon and kneel opposite Spencer, who counts the keys. 

“He said he used eight locks because there are now eight of us.”

“That's all he said?” Aaron asks. 

“About that, yes.”

“There's only six keys,” Spencer says, falling into stream of consciousness. “That means two keys will be used twice. Each key is a letter, likely corresponding to a number on the locks. Seven-seventh letter of the alphabet's G…” 

You look at him. “What are the other letters?”

“Um, Z, U, W-” He stops, looking at you and Aaron in turn. “Zugzwang. It's too easy.”

Spencer hands you and Aaron half the keys and you get to work, separating them and trying the locks. They work as expected. The two of you work side-by-side in silence, cooperatively shifting and passing keys to their respective locks. It would almost be fun, save for the imminent peril. 

Morgan and JJ return, jogging to you and stopping short. “He's got the place lined with C-4,” Derek says. “We've only got three minutes.”

You sit back on your heels, echoing Spencers thought from before. “This seems too easy.”

“Zugzwang also means a dilemma in chess where the best move is not to move at all…” Spencer muses. As Aaron finishes the final lock, the chains falling away, Spencer shouts, “Wait, don't get up!” He pauses as she stands, explaining, “It's a pressure sensor.”

Shit. 

You follow the pressure sensor wires to…

The door.

The moment you see it, it starts to slide closed, solid steel scraping the wall. 

Derek lunges forward, slamming into it with his shoulder. "No, no, no—!"

It’s too late.

You whip your head to Aaron, who stares impassively at the blocked exit. His eyes flicker to you and you swallow heavily, seeing something that looks like hardened acceptance in his eyes. 

We got this. Don’t get complacent. 

The six of you look for alternatives, following cables and wires. All of them lead to the door. You’re on the floor, examining the structural integrity of the setup, when Aaron drops beside you. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look at him, still holding the wires. “Yeah?”

He pauses, his eyes flick to your mouth, then your left hand, then back to your eyes. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do.” Your word choice isn’t lost on you. You place a hand on the floor between you and he covers it with his own. 

“I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize to me.” You make an attempt to smile. “You can tell me when we get outta here.” 

His jaw tightens and he nods. 

Derek watches the two of you when he exhausts his examination of the door. All that trouble to keep you safe, now you're all about to blow up in this room together. He sees the impossibly soft, affectionate, and determined look on your face as you say something to Hotch that has him dropping his head, picking your hand up to kiss the back of your fingers and holding them to his forehead with a kind of ferocity reserved for 18th century knights brought to their knees by the sight of an ankle. 

The door opens, startling all of you. Dave is on the other side, holding a radio transmitter. 

You and Aaron jolt to your feet, looking at the rest of the team. 

“You know what they say about gift horses,” you prompt. 

Derek laughs, a little hysterical with relief, and sprints out of the room, clearing your path. Dave joins him. 

Aaron grabs your hand and practically drags you out as your brain restarts and your feet start moving. The Virginia midsummer night hits you as you leave through the front door. 

“Everybody get back!” Aaron shouts, using his free hand to wave the staged agents away from the house. “There's C-4 in the basement. Everybody back!”

Spencer is just past the fence line when he stops. “Wait, where's Rossi?”

Derek turns, mentally counting all of you. He only gets to six. “He was right behind me.” 

Aaron takes a couple steps toward the house. “Dave!” 

“He just let us out. Why would he go back in?” Derek asks. 

Seconds later, though you’re not sure if you had seconds to spare, Dave appears, jogging toward you from the side of the house. Aaron corrals you all behind one of the cars. 

When the house explodes, his hand is warm between your shoulder blades. 

+++

“I’m glad we didn’t blow up,” you say in the blue darkness, sitting on the couch. He cradles you in his arms, lounging against the arm of the sofa, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other hanging carelessly off the couch. You lay across his chest, your ear to his heart, your hand playing with his hair. 

Aaron turned the TV off a while ago, Jack long asleep in his room, but it was nice to sit in silence, the tick of the clock the only other sound in the room beyond your breathing. It’s been a couple of days since the explosion. Erin’s service is on Sunday.

He doesn’t reply, but kisses the top of your head. 

“What were you going to apologize for, in there?” You ask. 

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “It seems silly now.” 

“That’s why I didn’t let you do it, you know.” You lean into him, tucking your face into the slope of his neck and shoulder. “I didn’t want you to say anything you’d regret in the unlikely event that we wiggled our way out of there.” 

Now, he really laughs, low and soft in the dark. “Very thoughtful of you, thank you.” He’s quiet for another minute. “It’s not something that I’d regret. It just isn’t relevant if we aren’t facing our imminent demise.” You laugh quietly, because it’s the only thing you can do. If you thought about it too hard, it would be scary. Now it’s just funny. 

"I was just thinking about how sorry I was that—” He stops. Shakes his head. “That we - I wasted so much time.” 

He pauses again.

"Time apart. Time spent dancing around what we knew. Time I spent convincing myself I couldn’t have this.” His hand skims your arm, back and forth. “I was a coward.”

“It’s not,” you whisper. “And you’re not a coward.” 

“I was about us,” he replies simply. 

You sigh. “Neither one of us were particularly brave, if I recall, but we made it.” 

“No,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You made it.” 

A thought comes to you. “If I didn’t kiss you, were you just going to let me yell at you until I got it out of my system?”

“That was the plan, yeah,” he’s so matter-of-fact, it makes you giggle. He joins you, holding you closer.  

“God, you’re such a masochist.” 

You feel him shrug under you. “I had been so in love with you for so long. I wanted anything you would give me, even your anger.” He shakes his head. “The masochism started long before then, trust me.” 

You’re speechless for a moment. You sit up just enough to meet his eyes, bracing your weight on his chest. “Aaron Hotchner, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

He draws you toward him by the chin, stopping you before his lips meet yours. You watch as his eyes track down to your mouth. The heaviness and devotion in his gaze almost makes you feel self-conscious. It gets worse when he tightens his jaw for a moment before his tongue sneaks out to wet his lower lip. 

You nearly lose your breath, his lips slightly parted as his eyes leisurely wander back up to yours. He’s said nothing, has hardly moved, but you’re held by his eyes like a physical vice, unable and unwilling to move. 

A spark of mischief lights up his eyes as he asks, “You gonna kiss me?” 

“I was waiting for you,” you tell him, dazed. 

He moves in, his lips just barely grazing yours, his breath warm against your skin as his nose traces along yours. “Please don’t ever wait for me again.”

+++

“It had to be a perfect round. And sure enough, coming right back at me was the target. And it was blasted right through the chest. The goggles come off... And it's Strauss.” Derek laughs. “I mean, I was like, what? I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. That woman... She was one hell of a shot.”

You’ve gathered at Dave’s after the service. It seemed like the only thing that felt right, to truly honor her as a team. 

Penelope’s next. “Um...do you guys remember that one time that she called me, but I thought that it was somebody else?” She throws her thumb toward Derek. 

“Oh, no,” he says. 

JJ tips her wine glass toward Penelope. “That was funny.”

“Oh, maybe to you,” Penelope says dubiously. “I was mortified!” 

“What did you say?” Alex asks.

“I said, ‘Talk dirty to me.’” 

It’s never not funny. You bark a laugh and smother it in Aaron’s sleeve, his hand on your thigh under the table. Alex leans forward. “No!”

“Yes, she did,” Derek says. “That's my girl.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Hey, that was my line,” Dave interjects with a smile. You’re glad he’s able to celebrate her, at least, for one evening.

Derek claps him on the shoulder as another round of laughter echoes around the table. 

“I remember when I walked into her office the day after Aaron and I had a conversation at home about going above board with-” You gesture to the space between you and Aaron, “- this.”  

“I went into her office and before I could say anything, she says ‘You’re either here to hand me your badge or to ask for two copies of a conflict of interest disclosure form.’” You pause as a ripple of laughter runs around the table. “I didn’t even know what to say. I think I short-circuited for a second and said ‘The second one,’ and she said nothing, pulled out the forms from her top drawer like she knew I was coming.” You pause for dramatic effect. “The only empty field was the date.”

The table laughs.

“In fairness, you were the least subtle people on the planet,” JJ says. 

You roll your eyes. “What I’m getting at is that Strauss was far more… liberal than any of us gave her credit for.” You glance at Dave, whose smirk is just starting when you cut him off. “Ew. No.” 

Another laugh. After a moment, the table grows quiet again, pensive. More stories bounce around for some time, your dinners all finished, your wine glasses refilled, and Dave taps his spoon against his glass. 

“Last year, right here, we had a… very different kind of celebration. Of life.” He pauses, looking at JJ. “Of love.” He looks at you and Aaron, where you lean against his shoulder. “And good people. This year it’s the, um, other side of that. Because, well, that’s what families do.” He pauses, looking at Spencer. “It’s been a hard year.” Spencer ducks his head. “But tonight, we celebrate a life well lived, well loved.” He raises his glass and the rest of you join him. “To a good woman. An even better mother. Our friend."

Dave takes a steadying breath, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass.

“Who I will miss very much.”

+++

tagging: @chronicallybubbly @derekluvbot @jhiddles03 @soupyamanda @percysley @viennasolace @youngcowisland @beyscape @reidfile @ssaic-jareau @sochalant @acidicbloody @duchesschameleon

[im-not-corrupted]

welcome misunderstandings - Jayce/Viktor

Tags: Piltover Galas and Parties (Arcane: League of Legends), Set in Season 01 Between Act 01 and Act 02 (Arcane: League of Legends), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, no beta we die like men

Summary:

Jayce accidentally gives the impression that Viktor is his partner in every sense of the word, not just Hextech.

They work things out with a kiss.

Read on ao3!

Viktor has not attended any fundraising galas in quite some time.

It is not because he does not get invited to them—Jayce always extends the invitation when he gets them. While it started as Jayce's dream, it is now theirs; he wants Viktor to share the spotlight with him, like he deserves. None of it would've been possible without him, not a single bit.

Piltover does not seem to understand this, much to Jayce's own frustration. Most sponsers and potential investors he meets are under the impression that Jayce is the sole brain behind Hextech, that it is his genius that made it happen. This is only half true, and it grates on him each and every time.

Unfortunately, there is only so many times he can put a fake smile upon his face and correct them—"My partner helped, it's his creation too"—only to be ignored before his patience grows thin.

And thin it has gotten; he leaves this gala with a particular kind of frustration festering in his veins.

Though he doesn't know the reason why, he does know that Viktor does not enjoy the galas. He prefers to keep to the lab, keep to the more practical work.

The two of them only discussed it once; after their ideas were announced to the public, as excitement began to grow for their brilliant, impossible dream of Hextech. Eh, you are…better with the public stuff, Viktor had said with a half-hearted shrug. Well-liked, too. I'm better suited down here.

Jayce understands. After the many, many galas he has attended, he fucking understands. It's frustrating, the fact that he has to paint Hextech as something that might bring in money, that has the potential to line the pockets of aristocrats whose pockets were already lined with gold. It is not what either of them wanted, when Viktor approached him in his old, blown-up lab with a proposal of working together on the work that was nearly stolen from Jayce due to his own foolishness.

They wanted—they still want—to bring Hextech to the people. To make lives better, to fix the problems the Councillors seem unable to see and fix themselves. Piltover simply wouldn't let them, and fundraising—and thus, galas—are obnoxious hurdles they have to go through to achieve what they want.

It is what it is. Jayce only wishes that Viktor's determination to remain in the lab, working late into the night, instead of meeting potential investors with him, didn't inevitably lead to Viktor being written out of the story.

He knows that's not what Viktor wants, too. So after a too-long night of faux politeness and pointed barbs from Salo about how his partner hasn't shown up, again and correcting yet more aristocrats on the nature of his partnership in relation to Hextech, he brings it up. Unfortunately, the champagne he consumed has given him a pleasant buzzing in his veins, one that makes him feel a little—reckless, perhaps. He typically wouldn't bring it up otherwise, because Viktor is so Viktor. Stubborn, immoveable.

Jayve loves that about him, even if it does get a bit frustrating. It is an important part about his partner and he would not wish for anything else, even if sometimes he hopes that—just this once—Viktor might be inclined to accept help when his leg hurt, that he might let Jayce in instead of dealing with everything by himself.

Stubborn, and immoveable, and so fucking determined.

"Viktor," he begins that night. Perhaps he should've gone home after the gala—it was late, quickly approaching midnight, and he had more work to do come morning—but something in him just…couldn't. There is too much fire in his veins and too many questions in his head and he doesn't imagine he'll get much sleep anyway, not with this particular problem floating about in his head.

Coming to the lab was the obvious choice, and Jayce is already glad he made it. Viktor, naturally, has been awake the entire time and still works now. He'd spared a curious glance at the door upon Jayce's entrance, and a greeting, before turning to his work once more.

Jayce wonders if he's had anything to eat. Wonders when he last slept. Stops himself from asking those questions out loud, because he's learned that asking after Viktor's health makes him look…not annoyed, not angry. Frustrated. Makes him clench his jaw and look away from Jayce with something like shame in his gaze.

"Yes, Jayce?" He does not look up from his work as he speaks, but that's okay. Viktor's always been good at multitasking.

"Why don't you come to the galas with me?"

The question is clearly a surprise; he sees it in the sudden stiffness of Viktor's shoulders and the momentary pause in his work, before he sets down his pen and swivels in his chair to face Jayce. "You know why."

He thinks he should. He should know why. Should've asked more questions, when Viktor began declining invites. "Tell me again, then."

His partner sighs in a way that suggests he doesn't really want to have this conversation. "I am a cripple from Zaun. They do not look at me the same way they look at you."

"They don't know you," Jayce says softly. "You're brilliant, Viktor. Anybody can tell that after just one conversation with you!"

"They don't want to see my brilliance, my part in Hextech. I am not the perfect poster boy for Hextech, not like you are, Man of Progress."

There's a sharpness to Viktor's words. Jayce frowns, because he never…never noticed any of this, honestly. But perhaps that is his failing. Perhaps he needs to do better.

"You deserve credit for Hextech, too." You deserve to be more than a footnote in our story, he doesn't say, because he knows Viktor's feelings on legacies. On his own legacy, and how he will be remembered. It is important to him. Jayce wouldn't play that card against him. "I want people to know you're my partner. I want them to know this is our creation, not mine." I want them to stop erasing you.

Silence falls over them. Viktor's expression is carefully blank. Once upon a time, Jayce used to think his partner unreadable like this, but over time he's learned. Learned to identify the look in his eye when he's truly, genuinely considering something, and to not mistake it for having accidentally pissed him off.

"This…matters to you," his partner says eventually. It's careful, prodding.

Jayce thinks, it does to you, too, but says, "Yes."

Shoulders slumping, Viktor sighs. "I will go to the next gala with you. If it will satisfy you."

A smile beams across Jayce's face. It's more than he imagined to get out of this, honestly, and he's glad for it.

+

The next gala rolls around far too quickly for Jayce's liking, though at least this time, attending is made easier by Viktor's presence beside him.

He's excited, perhaps more so than he should be. Really, he's just happy that Viktor will finally, finally be given the credit he is due. Jayce is more than willing to give him all the credit for the wonder and brilliance of his mind—but he thinks Viktor deserves it from the rest of the world, too.

Though he didn't make any such request—Viktor wouldn't dare, too determined to take on the rest of the world by himself if it meant he didn't have to ask for help—Jayce sticks by Viktor for most of the night, providing what he hopes is a solid rock of support by his side. It's glaringly obvious, at least to him, that his partner isn't exactly comfortable here, and Jayce understands—as a newer face to these things, he has been the subject of many stares.

"They're like vultures," Viktor grumbles as he grabs another flute of champagne from a passing waiter with a murmured thank you. This champagne is downed as fast as the others; Jayce wonders if his plan is to get too drunk he can't remember this come morning, and hopes that isn't the case.

The comparison is quite apt, honestly. Jayce always feels similarly. It's easier with Viktor by his side—one person who doesn't want something from him.

Sticking by Viktor inevitably gave him the joy of introducing his partner properly. It brought him some kind of satisfaction, to give Viktor this. The acknowledgement.

"Jayce Talis," an unfamiliar voice interrupts, and beside him, Viktor tenses. "The Man of Progress himself! I've been looking for you."

Jayce hasn't a single clue who this person is; he figures that doesn't really matter, either. The man clearly has money—he's very good at flaunting it, with his expensive, tailor-made clothes—and anybody who calls him the Man of Progress approaches him for Hextech.

A potential investor, then.

"It's lovely to meet you. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Why, yes. I've been meaning to talk to you about Hextech's future with you for a while now—your creation is incredible! Certainly, it has a lot of potential here in Piltover—"

"Our creation," Jayce interrupts, and the flash of satisfaction that flares when the man's eyes shine in brief outrage at the interruption is so worth whatever they might lose.

"Pardon?"

With pride strong enough to topple mountains, Jayce gestures to Viktor, who seems to have been watching this exchange with blatant amusement. "This is Viktor. My partner, the other half of Hextech. Without him, none of this would even be possible."

"I'm sure," the man murmurs, sizing Viktor up. "It is an honour to meet you too, Viktor."

"And yourself," Viktor replies, with the air of somebody who doesn't really mean it. There is a reason Jayce is typically the one to attend these things; Viktor hasn't the patience for politics and fake niceties.

It means the world that he chose to turn up to this one. Even if Jayce had to convince him to do so. It wasn't a hardship.

Before anybody can say anything else, they're soon interrupted by Mel, who says simply, "Jayce. Might I have a word?"

"Of course, Councillor." He shoots Viktor an apologetic look, who, in turn, glares at him with enough fire that it might've killed a lesser man.

Mel, never one to miss something, assures, "I'll steal him only for a few moments. Come, Jayce."

With a look he hopes says I'm so sorry, Jayce turns to follow, falling into step besides her. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes. Only, I wished to talk to you about a…misunderstanding." She inclines her head forward. "Viktor has not been present for one of these in quite some time. And many seem to be under the impression that he is your husband, not just your lab partner."

And just like that, Jayce's mind short-circuits.

Husband?

His husband?

Somehow, somewhere, Jayce has apparently gone very, very wrong. Wrong enough to have somehow foolishly implied that Viktor is his husband.

He is not sure how he managed that. And truthfully, he doesn't hate the idea. Likes the way it sounds, actually—and that, he will analyse later, when he's alone and can think about the implications.

"How?" he asks meekly, and he just knows his face burns that much more when Mel raises a brow that suggests the answer is very much obvious. "Viktor is—he's my partner only in Hextech. Not—not my husband."

As well-versed in politics as she is, Mel does not do something so undignified as laugh. But she does find the situation entertaining; he recognises the slight smile that graces her face. "I know that. Everybody else, apparentlym does not."

He only just stops himself from groaning out loud. "How do I…" Somehow, he has to stop Viktor from finding out. What if Viktor thinks it intentional? And then he hates Jayce, and he loses the best partnership he's ever had, and—

His heart drops to his stomach. Fuck. He has to fix this.

"You'll figure it out," Mel assures him, and he's grateful for her more than he could possibly state right now.

"I have to find Viktor."

+

Though he'd left Viktor alone for a handful of moments—not even a fulll five minutes, if he had to guess!—the man had somehow managed to disappear entirely, sending a bolt of panic that seres only to make him move faster through his veins. Thankfully, he manages to brush off any other interactions with a quick and easy, I'm sorry, I'm looking for my partner, and realises just how he gave so many the wrong impression.

In the end, he finds Viktor away from everybody else lurking in a shadowed corner with another flute of champagne. He looks up as Jayce approaches, face carefully unreadable.

"Hey, Vik," he says, and prays to whatever higher being may exist that somehow Viktor hasn't already discovered his very stupid mistake. "Should we get out of here? I think I need some air, do you need some air? There's a balcony over there, if you want to join me."

Admittedly, he doesn't really have a plan. And coming up with one on the fly isn't really working, if the way Viktor's eyes flash in concern is any indication. "What has gotten into you?" his partner asks, but he follows Jayce still, regardless of said concern.

Thank god for that. Maybe if he gets Viktor away from the prying eyes and misunderstandings, none of this has to be a problem. Maybe he's lucky, and nobody has mentioned it to him, and all his worrying is for nothing.

"Nothing has gotten into me!" he says, but his voice is perhaps higher than it should be for somebody who's perfectly fine. The fresh air, at least, helps calm him down. A soothing balm against his frayed nerves.

Viktor remains unconvinced, he can see that. Jayce is grateful for the fact that he doesn't push, unsure what he might say. The entire gala believes we're married. Probably because I speak of you very highly. That, or I forget to call you my business partner and often skip straight to partner.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't really blame anybody for the conclusion they came to. He has…not been subtle, has he? Though he's never admitted it to himself, a rather large part of him has always admired Viktor. How could he not? He's brilliant, with his sharp mind and sharper wit and dry humour, with all his well-earned confidence. Truly, he's the best lab partner Jayce could've asked for, and he's never been quiet about it. Why would he?

My husband, he thinks again, and it fits nicely. Too nicely. In another, different timeline, perhaps it was more than a hypothetical misunderstanding. Perhaps.

"Is this about most of our potential investors being under the impression that we are married?" Viktor asks suddenly, amusement dancing in his eyes and a smirk upon his face.

Jayce does not hate the idea of being married to him. He really doesn't. He thinks he is rather unlucky to be in a timeline where he isn't. "No! Well, yes." He sighs, a heavy thing, and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Listen, I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to…You're my partner! And I'm proud of our work together and I hated when people brushed you aside and I should've been more aware of my wording, I guess. I just wanted your part in Hextech to be acknowledged too! I didn't mean for people to think we were married."

Curiously, Viktor tilts his head. There's something in his gaze, sharp and analytical. "You don't need to defend me like so. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Snorting, Jayce nods. "Obviously." He has been the unfortunate victim of Viktor's cane early on in their partnership when he made the mistake of offering help during a bad pain day. He'd learned, since then, to wrap offers of help in a desire to be useful—it's not about Viktor, it's about Jayce, about his way of showing care.

Viktor sees through it. Of course he does. But he knows it's not entirely a lie, that Jayce does like to make himself helpful, so he begrudgingly allows Jayce to do small tasks for him on occasion.

Independence is important to him. And he's more than capable of taking care of himself, that much Jayce has never doubted.

"I know. Just…you weren't there. And you matter. To…to Hextech. And to me. You're my partner." He sighs again. "I do wish I hadn't let everybody believe we were married, though. I'll have to figure out how to…fix that."

A frown, faint but there. "Is it so terrible, to be fake-married to me, Jayce?"

"What? No, no!" He shakes his head frantically, eyes wide. "Only, I thought—I thought you wouldn't want people to think you were married to me! I—"

Without another word, Viktor crosses the distance between them and cuts him off with the press of his lips against Jayce's, and for a moment, the world staggers to a halt. Because Viktor is kissing him, and it's so unexpected yet so welcome. He's warm and soft but determined, as unyielding in this as he is in everything else, and it takes nothing at all to kiss him back when the world restarts itself and he finds himself in control of his body once more.

"You," Viktor breathes when he pulls back, "are a foolish man, Jayce Talis."

"And you should kiss me again," Jayce suggests.

Viktor wastes no time doing so. Jayce doesn't know what this means for the two of them, but that's okay. That's for them to figure out later—and, Gods, he can't wait to find out.

[laughtalelogs]

impossibilities pt. 2 - different mindsets

PAIRING - zoro x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 5.1k+

WARNINGS - mentions of sex MDNI, no beta, minor injuries, enemies to lovers, no use of y/n, strong language, zoro bullying, slight mentions of anxiety, reader is a geologist, reader is pretty highstrung and combative in this fic- this is all setting up for eventual smut in pt.3

SUMMARY - after getting lost for hours, you and zoro continue to find yourselves in the same problems as before. will you both be able to handle yourselves after spending so much time alone?

AUTHOR’S NOTE - I spent an unnerving amount of time sitting on this fic (3 fucking months), and have came to the executive decision to split it into multiple parts. this is so different from the first part, and I use it more as inspiration than a true continuation of that story.

you can honestly skip reading part 1 if you want!

pt. 1 (x) , pt. 2 (you are here) , pt.3 (coming soon)

In the hour that followed Zoro’s hack job on the engine, the caravan filled with silence, accompanied by soft breathing that made you grip the steering wheel tighter.

Must be nice, you thought as you peered over your shoulder.

Zoro’s arms were crossed, short tufts of green poking out from his winter hat. His head was dipped down, nodding with each rock of the vehicle. The ruddy blotches that covered his cheeks and nose told you he had to be cold, despite his stubbornness. You thumb the scarf around your neck with hesitation.

Fuck it.

You let go of the wheel and pulled off the fuzzy scarf that suddenly felt like lead in your hands. You leaned over Zoro for a moment and stared down at his peaceful face. His breathing was slow and even, the tell-tale signs of a deep sleep. Testing the waters, you poked his cold cheek, jerking back as if you expected him to jump at you.

He didn’t though, gentle breaths rose his chest up and down.

He’d be cuter if he stayed like that, you thought. Rather than doing everything in his power to get under your skin. Even so, you held your breath and carefully draped it around his neck, wrapping it around twice. You sighed, turning back to the sea of white as you settled back down in the driver's seat, rubbing the crease in your brow.

Why the hell did I do that?

You glanced one more time over your shoulder. Zoro’s face sunk into the fabric on his neck, the wool nuzzling his nose.

You quickly turned around again, taking your sweaty palms to grasp the wheel again as you continued to drive.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad. At least you had a moment to think with him asleep. With the silence, the fog of annoyance cleared from your mind. Before the storm, you spotted a small structure that you had wanted to explore, but Zoro was hellbent on getting back to the ship.

Maybe you’d be able to find some semblance of shelter there— though that was proving to be difficult with the passing minutes.

You smacked your lips together, and mixed emotions bubbled to the surface when thinking about Zoro’s warnings of the storm.

You tried to pinpoint the exact moment that it all went wrong.

What the hell was taking him so long?

You fanned your scowling face and covered your eyes from the sun, pacing on the bank of the beach. Zoro‘s absence already put a sour taste in your mouth, and the expedition hadn’t even started yet.

Luffy was crouched by the sand while he dug into the sand with a stick. “Can’t we go yet?”

“Not until Nami is finished.” Sanji said, blowing smoke from the corner of his lips.

Luffy whined and flopped onto his back. “But Robin, Usopp, and Chopper already got to go!”

Beside you, Nami scanned the horizon of the island and jotted notes in her logbook, tapping her foot impatiently. She threw Luffy a stern, pointed look, snapping her book close. Its echoing clap stopped your restless feet, and you shot a glance their way. Luffy rolled onto his stomach and muttered under his breath, poking at the ground again, not willing to fight the beast inside his Navigator. she shoved the journal in her bag, and dug around for something else before pulling it out.

“Luffy, Sanji, and I will circle the island going east using the waver,” She held the transponder snail out toward you. “That leaves you and Zoro to cut through the middle while Jinbe, Brook, and Franky watch the ship. If you see anything of interest or run into trouble, call us on this.”

You couldn’t stop the groan that slipped from your lips and plucked the snail from her hands. Its wide eyes stared back at your disgruntled face. “Can’t you or Sanji switch with him?”

Nami let out an exasperated sigh, her freckled nose scrunched up in disappointment. “You said you were fine with this.”

“I said I’m fine with making sure that dumbass doesn’t get lost,” you grumbled, “I didn’t say I was fine being alone with him that long.”

Sanji turned around. “I mean, I don’t mind-”

Nami held up her hand and cut him off, “-It’s an hour tops, they’ll be fine.”

Before you could protest more, Nami continued, “you both are very capable, mature adults and crewmates. I am sure you both can handle yourselves for an hour.”

“Luffy, help me here?” You whined to your captain.

He turned attention away from the sand beetle he dug up, and it burrowed back into the ground. Luffy’s head swiveled towards you, a frown on his face. “Huh?”

“Do I have to go with Zoro?” You asked again. You watch him think on it for a moment, and the words he said made you deflate.

“We pulled straws, it would be unfair if we changed now.” A rubbery hand stretched forward and wrapped your shoulder, giving it a good shake of encouragement. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“You think getting punched in the face is fun.”

But you couldn’t argue further than that, and you weren’t going to go against your captain. You shrugged his hand off. “Some help you are…”

“-It's not like I bite, you know.” Zoro's voice cut in from afar, the sound of his swords jostling behind you as he climbed off the ship.

Your shoulders rose to your ears, and you turned to face him as he made his way towards you and the remnants of the crew.

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t a pain in my ass. You better not slow me down.”

Zoro’s shadow eclipsed you as he leisurely strolled over with crossed arms, blocking the festering heat.

“As long as you don’t get me lost.”

You scoffed. “Me? Get us lost? What a joke.”

“You’re the joke,” Zoro lips twitched upwards. “Acting selfish as usual, like a pathetic baby. Nami said we were adults, right?”

“I am not a baby.” But as soon as the words came out, they felt childish. His words ring in your head, anger stirring inside of you.

Zoro stuck his chin high and glowered down at you. “That’s what a baby would say.”

“Babies can’t talk.” You always felt ridiculous under his scrutiny. “So you were just up there wasting time eavesdropping?”

“No, I was doing my job. You wouldn’t know about that, though?” He reached into his haramaki and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, shoving it your way.

You took it between two fingers. When you flipped it around, you found notes on how to operate the vehicle that sat off in the distance.

“Franky stopped me to give you this. In case you forgot.” He added.

“Oh,” Your voice faltered as you averted his gaze, folding the note and slipping in your pocket. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

He shrugged, scratching his neck. “You’re welcome.”

“ …Anyways,” Nami ignored the both of you and placed her book into her rucksack. “I have a sneaking suspicion a snow squall is approaching. I put two snowsuits in the brachio for you two just in case. Make sure to head back before then. I just want to chart this place and dodge, but keep your eyes peeled for treasure.”

“A snow squirrel?” Luffy jumped up with newfound purpose. “Sounds awesome!”

Sanji took Nami’s bag from her hands and placed it on his back, his gaze flickered in between you and Zoro. “-Sounds like a bigger pain in the ass than Moss.”

“Shitty cook, I’ll show you a pain in the ass-”

Zoro’s proclamation made you double over in laughter. Sanji doesn’t miss the way Zoro stiffened at the sound.

How could that idiot be so emotionally constipated? The cook thought to himself.

You smiled Sanji’s way, amusement bright in your face. You miss the way Zoro’s eye darted from you to him. “Good one.”

Sanji shook his head and eyed you, who straightened up and inched away from the other man, stepping out of Zoro’s shadow. Not like you were faring any better.

“Can I fight the snow squirrel, Nami?” Luffy was bouncing in anticipation, ignoring his quarreling crew.

“It’s not a-” She pinched the bridge of her nose. At this rate, the crew, this island, and the weather was going to give her a headache. “Sure, whatever. Let’s move out.”

You watched Nami grab Luffy, stomping away as Sanji followed suit. You try to say something again, but the three of them are already off, waving their goodbyes.

“You two don’t kill each other, okay?”

“If you find the squirrel, save it for me!”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Marimo.” And with that, they were on their way.

You and Zoro stood there for a second, the awkwardness from your desperation to get rid of him sat in the air. He cleared his throat before beginning to walk off. “Come on, we’re already losing time.”

“Wrong way, genius.” You crossed your arms, motioning with your head. “Brachio’s the other way.”

He stopped in his tracks, and grumbled, turning around, “just testing you.”

You rolled your eyes, “sure, whatever makes you feel better.”

As time went on, you had made several stops on your way down the middle of the island.

You were surprised how many rock formations you found. This made it a perfect time to grab undisturbed samples. You itched with anticipation as you thumb a rock on the ground and slip off your backpack, taking a small vial and placing the pebble inside.

“The hell are you doing over here?” Zoro's voice pulled you out of your excitement.

“My job.” You snapped back, His comment earlier still stung. It wasn’t the first time he had called you immature, and it had dug into the wound he created long ago. “I just thought I saw something, just making sure.”

“You said that at the last two stops, too. We’re running out of time before the storm.”

You shrugged, looking up at the sky as you stood. You weren’t an expert like Nami, but the soil was compacted, the rocks eroded by wind. If there was a storm coming, It would be the first time the island had it in years. “It’ll be fine, plus It’s hot as shit right now.”

“I don’t get why you’re so interested in finding anything here.” The look you see Zoro shoot your way showed he was unconvinced. “All we’ve found are just some dumb rocks.”

You walked past him and let a finger swipe against the hilts of his blades as you passed him. You saw his jaw tighten from the corner of your eye. “These just dumb rocks to you, like those are stupid swords to me.”

“Don’t disrespect them like that.” Zoro bristled behind you, his heavy steps following yours.

“Then don’t disrespect my rocks like that.” You offered.

You see something shine on the old trail, a glint in the terrain that jutted out from the tough ground, as well as a shack off into the further distance. You buzzed with excitement. Maybe it was a precious stone you could dig up, or even some sea prism stone that would help further your research. It all was worth checking out.

The obnoxious moan that you heard behind you as you made your way to the rock only spurred you forward. As you crouched to reach for it, a strong gust of wind dislodged the stone, and it tumbled away, rolling into a patch of grass.

“We don’t have time for a treasure hunt anymore. Look up.”

You turned your head to the sky, watching as a sheet of gray creeped at an alarming speed towards you. You cursed under your breath and chewed your lip. Shit.

“We still have time to make it back.”

A prickle of embarrassment rose up your neck and made you shivered, but you shoved it down and tried to make sense of the snowy tundra.

It’s too late now, no matter who was right.

The objective was to either find the crew, or find a signal for the transponder snail, who was also taking an undeserved nap on the control panel. That plan definitely didn’t include the thoughts of him swarming in your brain.

Besides, you swim back to the surface of your murky thoughts, nothing else could go wrong.

Right?

The brachio mini’s power flickered, jerking you back to reality.

The bright lights waned off above you— a short warning before the emergency power kicked in again. There was not enough time for you to brace for impact. You lurched forward as the wheels jolted to a halt, the engine sputtering out sparks from the gash. The hull screeched against the ice like a dying whale.

“No—” No. It had become your personal mantra.

No. No. No. A prayer to whatever omnipotent being that found your suffering entertaining. “—No!”

You screamed and banged a fist on the control panel that you were unceremoniously splayed over. It screamed back in response, flooding the cabin with bright red light as bold letters flashed on the screen: Engine Failure. Please contact Franky immediately.

Your eyes darted to the mini transponder snail again, but its stupid, sleeping face mocked you, turned on its side from the sudden stop. You were out of range. Still.

“Not working?” Zoro grunted behind you, voice coated in grogginess. You whipped your head around, surprised to find him leaned over you, staring at the screen beneath you. The tassels of the scarf you donned him dangled in front of you. You’re shocked to find he hadn’t removed it. The fresh scent of mint mingled with vanilla and fanned across your face. You flinched.

“You tell me, Sleeping Beauty.” You swiveled your seat around and shoved his shoulder, leaning further back to gain distance.

Of course, he didn’t budge an inch, “I wasn’t asleep, you’ve got a real bad staring problem, you know.”

“Must have been some weird dream, as if I haven’t seen enough of your face today.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.” He mocked, throwing your forgotten words back in your face.

You scowled, but decided to change the subject for both of your sakes. “Head still hurt?”

Zoro blinked, and his gaze softened at your question. “Nah, I’m good now.”

“Good,” you sighed in relief. At least that wasn’t another problem to deal with. “I’m glad.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, and something flickered in his gaze that made you more restless. “That crash didn’t really help, though. You’re a horrible driver.”

“I didn't crash!” You snapped back. “Maybe you can actually help instead of letting me do all the heavy lifting for once.”

Zoro frowned. That’s more like it, you thought.

You continued, “Franky’s gonna have our asses for this.”

“Eh,” Zoro offered an uninterested shrug, as he backed away. Air willed itself into your lungs again.“He’ll get over it.”

You threw your arms up in exasperation, balling your fists up as they fell. “You tell him then.”

“Sure,” you watched his jaw tighten, “Whatever.”

He climbed the ladder beside him and opened the hatch. Cold air surged forward and nipped at your skin.

“What are you doing?” You winced at the sound of your own voice echoing off the tinny walls.

“We’re walking back? Don’t see this as something that’ll come back on.” Zoro doesn’t even look your way, unbothered by the wind that bit at his face, gesturing around at the hunk of metal that encased you both.

Nothing unusual, just snow. Zoro thought after he scanned the area.

He climbed back down and tightened his swords to his side. They clanged together awkwardly, hitting the seat behind him as he tried to keep his distance. He had had his fun, but it was starting to become too suffocating, being stuck with you.

He stole a glance at you and watched your furled up fists tremble from the cold that began to creep in.

Cute, he thought.

He didn’t think about the word that popped up frequently when he looked at you. The way your snowsuit had crumpled in the crash had mangled it, the zipper halfway down, hat sliding down the back of your head.

Annoying, but cute.

He suppressed the urge to reach out and fix it, to pull it over your frozen ears.

He frowned. Why the hell would I want to do that?

Zoro tried to roll the thought down his shoulders, stretching through the tension that surged up his spine.

The idea made sense. You mulled over his words, but you watched the snow falling from the porthole and felt your body fill with dread. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through snow. Zoro tapped his foot impatiently, each second passing by quicker.

“No,” You said, “we should wait for someone to come get us.”

“That’s what we did last time, remind me—” Zoro’s voice low and calm, “—how’d that work out for you?”

You unclenched your fists and buried your face in your hands; letting out a long, frustrated groan. “We’re both at fault, don’t pin this on me.”

“Of course,” his chuckle tight, “and how long has it been since we left?”

“Four hours,” you mumbled into your palms, “four hours and thirty-seven minutes.”

Each of those minutes weighed heavier than the next.

“I don’t plan to wait longer.”

“Plan? You know what that is?”

“Cut the shit already.” He bit back. “Get the stick out of your ass and let’s go. If we move fast, you won’t have time to get cold.”

You threw an incredulous look his way, not surprised when you are met with his serious face.

“Of course, a dumbass like you would think that.”

Normally, your spats would be short-lived moments of anger before one of you gave in and escaped somewhere else in the ship. You could run to Nami or Sanji and spew vitriol about Zoro with no judgment. By then, enough time would have passed for you both to calm down from the other, and didn’t affect the ways of life being on the same crew.

This, though, was probably the longest you both had to be together; and definitely your first time alone like this. It chipped at your patience, and by the strained look he kept throwing your way, you suspected Zoro wasn’t far behind.

You racked your brain for a solution, an escape from him, yet nothing came to mind. A gentle tap on your shoulder jerked you from your thoughts.

Peering in between your fingers, you found Zoro, close again. He gave you a once over with a soft, unreadable eye. It made you want to curl up into a ball.

“Come on, we’ll do it together.” he offered a hand, his calloused palm an unexpected olive branch. “Trust me.”

Your heart thrashed in your chest like a wild animal as the moments of an hour ago flashed in your mind. You felt heat rise up your neck. You squeezed your legs shut, reminded of the heat of his own between them, his shadow that engulfed you as he loomed over you. Your mind was flooded with thoughts you reached out to control.

Horrible, horrible thoughts you couldn’t get rid of.

“-Fuck you.” The words stumbled out of your mouth like a bad habit you couldn’t quite shake. They were words that come out too quick, too harsh— ones that you don’t even truly mean.

But, they’re better than the alternative: staring at his hand, imagining it in places that would make you lose your mind.

Before he could respond, you shot up and snatched the transponder snail, shoving it deep in your pocket. You shuffled awkwardly through the limited space and squeezed past, scrambling up the ladder. You kept your eyes glued forward as you faced the frigid unknown.

“Real adult of you,” You heard him call out below you. The guilt that bubbled at the back of your throat tasted bitter. You swallowed it down and leapt into the snow.

As you sank down, your socks soaked up the wet, cold slush that piled up at your legs. You regretted the decision to not fight him more on leaving.

That's what you get for being distracted.

Refusing to turn around, you marched forward, despite the numbing cold that is crept through your snowsuit. The faint crunching of snow behind you was enough to tell you he was not far behind. You kept your eyes on the snow as you tried to settle your nerves.

There had to be some way to get out of this wintry hell.

Zoro drank in your silhouette, a stark image compared to the snow before him.

He narrowed his eye. You were pissier than usual, maybe even more than on a bad day. He thought he might’ve pushed you too far, but it was too easy, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have time to kill.

He adjusted the scarf around his neck and your forgotten backpack he’d slung over his shoulder. With each tug, vanilla and sea salt filled his nose and clouded his judgment. It felt like he was going to be choked by the strong aroma.

Still, he didn’t move to take it off, and didn’t want to think about why he pressed his face deeper, letting his breath fog in the material.

His eye flicked up from your waist, trailing up the back of your annoyingly pretty head that shook in anger.

How desperately he wanted to grab it and hold it still. He wondered what thoughts you had rattling in there that made you so irrational. Your hat desperately clung to you, before it slid down your back, into the snow.

You were always like that, Zoro thought as he plucked your forgotten headwear as he passed by, stuffing it in his pocket.

He forced his eye to not creep back upwards and watched your feet march forward.

Damn body, reacting on its own.

Zoro ignored the stirring in his chest that travelled like an inferno further and further down, where the desires he kept a tight lid on lay dormant. Sure, he meant to make you riled up, but he didn’t expect himself to still be affected. He tried to steady his heart beat, to focus on the dire situation you both were trapped in.

But still — He couldn’t shake away the thought of you, peering up at him, thighs clenched around nothing for the second time in a row, before you delivered the most immature ‘fuck you’ of the century. The beating of his chest he still couldn’t quell reminded him — you were so distracting while doing so.

Exhaustion pulled you down into the slush with each step you took.

At some point, Zoro fell in line beside you. You trained your eyes to the ground and watched your feet and Zoro’s disturb the fresh blanket of snow, only to steal a look at him out of the corner of your eye. You saw something oddly familiar slung across his back.

“When did you get my bag?” You asked.

“Finally noticed?” His lips stretched into a grin. “While you threw your temper tantrum, I grabbed it.”

“I can carry it, give it here.” You reach for the bag, but his hand swats yours away, adjusting the strap.

“Just for you to leave it again? No chance. I thought you wanted me to do the lifting, anyways,”

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity as you continued to walk. You wondered what he was thinking, or if he was at all. Maybe he was using this experience as some weird training technique, but the quick gazes you shot his way show that same, unreadable face, eye locking with yours for a moment only to look away, far into the distance.

He must be exhausted, especially from you.

Anxiety had begun to gnaw at you, thinking of that outstretched hand from earlier as your eyes darted back to the snow. Thinking of the words he called you before, selfish. immature. control freak.

You had been giving him a hard time, you thought.

Insecurities of being too much, too commanding, too, well, you, bubbled up to the surface. Maybe what he said about you was right. You had been unforgiving all day. The same warnings he had told the crew before you had joined all those months ago ring like alarms in your head. It was your fault you guys were in this situation, ultimately, no matter how much you twisted it in your mind.

Before you realized it, the word slipped off your tongue.

“Sorry.”

His walk faltered for a moment, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “Huh?”

“For earlier.” You garbled out and picked up speed, as if your body was searching for an escape from the awkwardness of it all. “For everything.”

“Say it again.” He demanded, jogging to keep up with you, “Don't think I caught that right.”

You felt the hole he was boring into your skull, but you kept pushing forward, willing your burning thighs to go faster. You felt clammy and hot all over, despite the freezing temperatures. “You know what I said.”

“Is this a prank?” He laughed, and you felt every nerve in your body set ablaze. “-or are you seriously apologizing?”

How was this funny?

Humiliation swallowed you whole. Your poor attempt at sincerity had been brushed off, despite the nerve you had worked up to do so. To hell with it all. If he wanted you to be annoying and high-strung, you would give it to him.

You turned to tell him off, to give him what he wanted.

But, as you stepped closer, your foot gave way underneath the slippery surface below you. You yelped as your foot twisted in the other direction, erupting in a searing, blinding pain.

Zoro was next to you in a flash.

Concern and shock laced his face as he carefully pulled you back to sit up. Jaw tightening as he wiped the snow from your face. The snow mingled with the tears that threatened to spill. You felt the heat radiating from Zoro’s body and fingers, soothing the burn on your cheeks. It was ridiculously comforting, and that thought unnerved you.

“Oi,” he brushed off your back and front, snow falling to the ground, “you good?”

You bit back the pain and blinked back the tears and ducked your head down. “Peachy.”

“Idiot,” He sighed, and his hand reached into his pocket. When did he get that? Before you can ask, your vision is darkened when you feel something pull over your eyes. “You need to watch where you’re going.”

“Hey!” You reached up, pulling the hat he had unceremoniously crowned you with above your brows. You were about to counter, how could you see anything underneath the snow? But the stormy look Zoro’s eye that pored over made you forget whatever you were about to say.

You shivered. He frowned, taking off the scarf you placed around his neck, draping back over yours. “You sure?”

Zoro's genuine question made you feel worse.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m sure I want to get out of the cold, hurry up.”

You stood up and tried to walk, wincing at the shooting pain with each step.

Zoro sighed, and began to walk with you.

Only after a handful of steps, your footing buckled again, but this time Zoro caught you before you could hit the snow. Suddenly, your feet weren’t touching the ground, swept up in his arms.

Zoro smacked his teeth, breath warming your numb ear. “Impossible.”

“Are you a broken record or something?” You mumbled, wiggling in his grasp.

Zoro shook his head, adjusting to make you comfortable, “I’ll keep saying it the more stupid shit you do.”

You said you were fine, but he wasn’t having it. Zoro motioned with his head for you to tell him a direction. You wordlessly point, trying not to think about his hands holding you to his chest.

As he walked, you see those same rosy splotches on his cheeks begin to darken again. You carefully wrapped the end of your scarf over his neck, and he stood straighter.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, glared down at you, his face close to yours.

“You’ll get cold too,” you murmured and turned away.

“I’m not, though.”

“Your face says otherwise,” You tugged on the side of the scarf still wrapped around your neck, adding some slack. “Don’t get yourself sick, or we’ll both freeze and die.”

His quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest and vibrates against your side. “You know, you’re the most positive person I know.”

“Haha, but really,” you turned to face him again, and Zoro was the one to turn away that time. “How does the cold not bother you?”

You watched him tilt his head up, contemplating the question for a moment before finally giving you an answer. “It’s a mind over matter for me. You’ll be surprised how things can change with a different mindset.”

You mulled over the thought as you admired his tenacity to be so unbothered. His lips pink and soft, the small clench of his chiseled jaw, the way the muscles of his neck peak from behind the scarf, stretching as he swallowed. You cleared your throat and leaned against his chest.

Just for heat, you told yourself, and your body relaxed a little in his gentle hold. His heartbeat was steady in your ears. You tried to ignore the thumb that traced tiny circles on the side of your knee.

A different mindset.

You looked up, Zoro’s earrings shimmered in the snow. He glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on your ogling. He looked back down at your finger that was lazily outstretched, using it as his guiding compass as he continued to walk.

If you ignored everything about the day, if Zoro was anyone else, you would have considered his actions sweet. Gentlemanly, even. You feel a slow heat bloom in your stomach, spreading warmth towards your ankle, soothing the ache.

Maybe he was onto something.

“Your scarf stinks. What did you spray on it?” And just like that, he dashed those kind thoughts from your mind.

“It doesn’t stink, it’s just a little perfume!” You scowled, craning your neck up at him. “You weren’t complaining earlier.”

“It’s making me nauseous, you don’t need that sweet shit.” He turned his nose upwards, averting the fabric that swaddled him. You hit his chest.

“I like it! Doing a lot of complaining and not enough walking.” You hit him again, harder this time as you continued to point.

“I should just leave you here to freeze.” You felt Zoro’s loosen his hold, and you slipped slightly in his hold. You clutched onto his shirt, screeching as you felt gravity threaten to pull you down.

“You ass! You wouldn’t dare-“

“-That’ll teach you to be nicer to your ride, hm?” His laugh is wicked.

Even though you grumble, you can’t stop the twitching in your lips. “I can’t wait to get away from you.”

AND END SCENE! Finally, thank the heavens that this part is done.

Not sure how I feel about this one, I started hating it in the middle of writing it because I didn’t have any real direction of how I wanted this to play out. This took very long to write because I realized I never gave a reason for their rivalry which took me forever to come up with. I still feel like zoro’s still ooc, but I feel like I learned a lot while writing this nonetheless.

Probably will pivot and try to get one of my sanji fics done now, but part 3 is already 60 percent completed.

thank you for your patience with me! school continues to kick me in the ass :’)

liked this? check out my other stuff :) - (x)

[cringe6fail6star6]

WHB au where we arent the only Solomons descendant who was sent to hell to deal with their problems. There were our predecsesors who failed before us, morale falls greatly before a new one is found and dragged in hell to check if they will succseed this time.

I think Satan always the first one to drag new Solomons descendant bc he cant give this up. Solomon said his descendant will save hell, it has to happen. It just has to. Other devils give up, but so subtly if u dont know them for long u wont even notice. Every time MC makes a mistake devil stills, their expression falls, awaiting ur death. But when it doesnt come they return to action. Okay, u lived more than the last one! Thats progress. Thats good! Lets keep it that way.

Satan just more defensive about MC and protective of them because of that. This time around MC doesnt die instantly from seeing angels glow AND they survived a few lone encounters with angels. Satan convinces other kings even more earnestly, Mammon humors him n meets with MC. He looks them up and down and just sighs. Satan starts ranting again bc everyone keeps acting like hes crazy for still trying. Which. He is. But come on! MC doesnt understand fully whats going on yet but seems like they arent welcome, which is fine by them. They dont want too be here either, but that was just rude.

-MC predecessors n Solomons blood specifically evolved slightly differently from other humans BECAUSE they were dragged into hell to survive. Time in hell n human realm have differents in time so genes had more time to evolve to survive in hell.

-Satan holds MC even closer to himself bc other devils wont. He knows they will try to keep them safe, but they wont ruin themselves to keep MC alive. He knows that and it just scares him. How could everyone give up that easily!? (bro its been thousands of years)

[fushiguwu]

Could a kiss kill someone? G. Suguru

CHAPTER 6 from the Summer Fever’s serie!

ft. dilf!getou and gojo’s stepdaughter!reader

warnings. MDNI, nsfw, crying, relationship insecurities, explicit sex description, car sex, public/risky sex, dirty talk, dry humping, use of the petnames ‘love, baby, honey, pumpkin’, desperation/begging, use of ‘daddy’ and ‘brat’ once or twice, choking, spitting, kissing, creampie (keep urself safe), sweet romance, suguru is a sweetheart and a silly man, kinda fluffy and crack sometimes, getting caught.

words. 4.1k

a/n: i am really sorry for the absurd late in this but i really had a creativity block problem and got stuck for a whole month and a half without a clue to do keep this going the way i wanted to. please understand that there are at least two or three more chapters to come and i finished this one like this so it wouldnt take so long to delivery it. thank u so much for everyone that waited for it and i am already working on the next one. not proofread or i would never post it… lol anyways hope u enjoy it!

Guess you broke your promise.

you didn’t pay a minute of attention to the movie nor the girls bubbling about it. Your ears were filled with his oh-so-sweet words, your nose breathed with his scent, your mouth kissed itself for his absence; and yet, doubt: was it the right choice to surrender? feets kicked in excitement by his touch as your heart boils in uncertainty. You remembered now how he smelled so much addictively, how obsessed he got you, like a whole teenager, all again. But you know this situation will hurt more people than satisfact.

It was the very first time within almost a month of vacation that you actually woke up and had breakfast on the dining table with the other six people in the house. As the last one to join, everyone stared, like you were some kind of ghost, not understanding your sudden behaviour change. Besides, of course, the changer — which sat there flawlessly. Suguru gave you the most beautiful sunrise smile you’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. And it did not help you decide your thoughts. at all.

“Good morning, sunshine” you hear him saying and just noticed he is staring at the chair beside. He kept it for you. Your face burned but you had to play it cool. throat clearing. “Good morning, Suguru. Have you slept well?”

“Could’ve been better.” and you spot him stating your steps with his sided sharp eyes. He's smiling foolishly —certainly worries were not running through his own head, and you envy him. You glance off before making it too obvious to everyone you guys are definitely into something unnameake. So you greet the same to the rest of the table too.

Your mom speaked about something you couldn’t fully understand, as for the moment she opened her mouth and got their attention, Getou slipped his hands through your knees. you reflectively closed it; knew what he wanted, and it panicked your system, looking with scared eyes quickly at him like saying “not here”. He whispers an almost unheard “that’s okay” to you and his gentle tone almost made you feel like it was, actually. And his hands didn’t go any further, just kept caressing your thighs, as he just wanted to feel your warmth. It made you more than a bit nervous, yet enjoyed his touch secretly.

“Honey, once you finish your food, could you go to the market for me, please?” your mom got you out of trance, and you had to recapitulate her sentence in your dizzy head for a few seconds to fully understand it. You nod twice in response.

“I can take her, if you allow.” The black haired man by your side speaks and you feel your spine shiver. You and Suguru. Alone. Far from this house. Alone. You gulp hard.

“Oh, Getou! Wouldn’t that be a bother, my dear?” your mom sounds sincerely surprised.

“Not at all, miss. It’s not like I have much to do” he tries bringing humour to soften the mood. So your mom agrees. They talk like you are not present —which makes you feel like a child being tutored.

“Waif’, we fwere goinf’ fiffing’ tofay!” Satoru says with his bread hanging on his teeth, outraged —now that is the child who needs tutoring. “We can go later” is all Suguru says before giving your leg a soft squeeze and getting up. It gives you the cue to not delay yourself on.

Your blood pounded abruptly in your throat as you geted in his now well-known car. Suguru was by your side already, and had definitely put on an expensive perfume while you changed yourself upstairs. You don’t speak about it, though. Nor about anything. He could say you are nervous and after a failed try or two to chitchat, chose to follow your lead in silence.

You watched the city change outside the car window with so many thoughts running through. You didn’t want to like him, it harmed everyone in your life: his daughters were never going to talk to you and never trust their father again; it’d be the end of Gojo’s longest friendship. Or maybe his marriage with your mom, and you couldn’t let it happen for a silly summer passion.

“We’re here. Are you good, sweetheart?” Suguru’s words took you out of your cloudy mind at last. You just wave your head and smile for him. You now see he had gently opened your door.

“Thanks, Sugu’.” your voice was weak. you don’t answer his question.

You bought everything your mom wanted while he helped push the increasingly heavy cart. The insight that you two actually look like a couple alone gave you shivers —the goods and bad ones. It was silent most of the time, besides for when he asked something about the shopping list. At the end, Suguru putted the bags into his car alone, as insisted, and you wait for him inside. It was a few minutes before afternoon in your clock when you heard him closing his door; he doesn’t turn the car on, though. You look at him uncertain.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he finally speaks. “About what?”

“What you’re keeping to yourself. You’re clouded the whole day.” Suguru speaks like it is obvious. “Is it about last night?” You hesitate, so he knows the answer. His gaze softens. “My love, if I made you uncomfortable, I am profoundly sorry. Truly am. It’d never be my intention. But I would really appreciate it if you spoke to me about it, can’t stand your silence anymore” he’s just so fucking delicate with his words that it made impossible not to fall into, so you take a deep breath.

“No, you did nothing to make me mad, Sugu’, and that’s the problem.” you surrendered. He had a stupidly confused expression now. “Yesterday made me realize I am still in love with you, and it’s crippling my head. We can’t do it. We are bound to stay apart. What we did yesterday made me happy, but so fucking confused. What would I say to my mom, to your daughters, to Satoru? They are going to hate us” you felt the tears burning your eyes but refused to let it fall, and he knew it. Suguru turns to you and holds your face tenderly in hands. His thumbs caressing your cheeks, his eyes staring deeply into your oceaned ones.

“dear, don’t suffocate yourself with things you can not control.” you were now sobbing within his grasp. “I want you as much as you do want me, you know it, love. And that’s what matters. We’re not doing anything wrong.” He, then, takes your own hands and leads to his face, smelling your scent, kissing your palms to your wrists.

“I swore to my friend I’d never look at you again…” you finally confess what was weighing on your shoulders, and hear Suguru giggling. His hands once holding your arms were now pulling you closer, lips meeting your trembling chin.

“So you shouldn’t promise things you won’t do.” he stops to look into your eyes and make sure you are okay with his intimate touching, and what a surprise to see you gazing into his mouth with those wetted eyes. The smile Suguru gives you with his lip bitten now is even better than the morning one. “You look so pretty when you cry, my love.” he whispers as dries your watery face with kisses —and actually enjoys the salty taste. you whimp in response to his praise, as well as for the hasty tighten into your waist. “your little fuzzy face’s starting to make me have a hard time…”

and you turn your head enough to take his mouth within yours, which he accepts as fast as he feels your touch. You give Getou a little scream when he pulls you into his lap and his car honks as you bump into the steering wheel; his laugh makes you laugh too, until suddenly remember you’re in a market parking lot. “People are going to see us, Sugu.” you lower your head from the window and whisper.

“Lucky them” is all the black haired man says before seeking your lips. He didn’t feel like telling you the windows were tinted, but the longest the kiss lasted the harder it made you care about it. Or about anything at all.

“That’s why you parked at the farther lot, huh? To fuck me in your car?” you started rolling your hips over his growing bulge, and the sounds of his low whimpers had you seeing stars already. He tried kissing you again, but you kept pushing off to see his fucked up face while you hump him dry. Suguru gives your ass a hard smack, and that’s your turn to whimper. He comes closer, smiles against your mouth and squeezes your flesh. “fucking brat.”

“yeah, you’re ‘bout to.” every answer you gave made his cock squint below. “huh? Weren’t you crying out just now?” Getou says as takes your shirt off. No bra. He smiles and licks his lips. “My love, how I missed you” and you could feel that he was not talking to you as his mouth started sucking from your right to left breast so hungrily. Seeing him, such a gorgeous mind-freaking man, get this insatiable from your bare scent only got you so aroused, you started unconsciously moaning loudly to his stare. You felt him pumping his groin up into your both covered intimacies to have some relief. He suddenly gets off your chest and starts unzipping your shorts, almost desperately. “M’sorry, love, can’t foreplay anymore. Gotta fuck you or think Imma‘ go nuts”

You got up from his lap to help get your clothes off and can finally see his aching bulge. You cross your actions with his for a moment of messily to get his own pants down. You let a gasp escape once taken: it was huge. Fucking huge. Bottle thickness huge. Mouth drooling huge. After a second or two of staring, Suguru finally finds your eyes and chuckles. “What’s the matter, love? Never seen one?” you gulp and look at his face, raising the index and middle finger. He thinks for a moment. “Two? You’ve had dick only twice?”

“T-this is the second one, actually.” you could see his smile growing, finding it cute that you’re quite inexperienced. But it only got you nervous.

“Aw, I got late, then. But that’s okay. Wouldn’t want your first fuck to be in a parking lot.” Suguru jokes, trying to make you feel more comfortable. He grabs your beltline and pulls you closer. Your pussy now touching his cock, barely. Your whimp rubbing his mouth. “And who’s bigger, pumpkin? Me, or the other one?” He already knew your response, but it made him harder to hear.

“Oh, my,” you give him a nervous giggle as one of his hands starts rubbing his dick up and down your soaked syrup cunt lazily, just waiting for you to speak. You gaze at his horny half-closed eyes, half-opened mouth. You couldn’t lie even if you wanted to. You feel him positioning it in; as you take too long to answer, he helps to clear your mind. And that’s when your brain starts working again: “Yours—oh, god, your cock—so fucking huge, fuck.” that’s it. music to his ears.

“And you can take it, right, baby? Gon’ be taking it like the good fucking girl you are.” Suguru answers what he wants to hear from you, and slowly pushes it inside; your mouth falls open for every centimeter of it. Your nails marking red into his shoulders. Your head buzzes in crave. It felt like a dream coming true, after more than a year of denial. “Fuckk—, that’s it. Not even fully inside and you’re already so fucking full, love. Your pussy’s so tight.” he babbled almost unconsciously. Suguru looked so pussy drunk you could feel a bit pity for making him wait for so long to have you, but was too busy trying to sink completely into his dick to do so.

You knew he was desperate when took no more time waiting for you to adjust to his entire length, using both hands on your ass cheeks to bounce it and make you sit entirely in way less time than you would’ve done alone. You screamed silently, opening your mouth fully in front of his face; so teasingly he couldn’t help but hold your chin closer and spit inside; it was so filthy you almost felt your face burning. The fear for people noticing the car moving up and down suspiciously was fading within his very actions. You felt him everywhere: his breath on your nose, tongue on your mouth, hands on your curves, hair through your nude skin. Suguru was madly in love with you for a long time now, and could barely remember wanting something else —and neither did you.

“Tell me how much you like it, honey. Wanna hear you say it. Say that u’ want me, please.” he grabs your face with both hands as for you not to look anywhere else, not think of anything else, anyone else. Suguru wanted your attention all over him. No distractions. No thinking of people outside. Not when he is finally getting you. A man this big in every aspect, with such baggage and experience, dying for your validation, looking stupid, for you; it felt as a crime not to give him what he craves for.

“Fuckin’ love your cock, hitting so good inside me, Sugu. I wan’u deep into my guts. Want u’ to ruin me, need you to ruin me, please. fuckin’ love it.” You felt he could cum from your words only; his breath failing, his gaze getting darker. Suguru could not hide how lost he got into your voice saying such words to him and him only. Your hips doing the hard work up unto him, your foreheads connected as his grip lowers to your neck; he kept you tightly close, so close your blurred vision could not see anything but his deep eyes cutting in your deepest wonders. “Choke the fuck outta’ me, daddy, go on.”

Suguru firmed his feet and abruptly pushed into you for your said sentence. He moved his right hand and pulled the hair of your scalp deliciously. He got you everywhere; his opened mouth never leaving yours, the fluids of your bodies converging. It was just so romantic, so intimate, even throughout the circumstances.

”Call me that again” Getou starved. You gave him a small laugh and answered a low ‘what?’. You just didn’t expect him to quickly give up on your neck and smack your cheek with a controlled slap —it didn’t actually hurt and you knew he was capable of doing it painfully if wanted. And you kind of enjoyed it. “You fucking know what. Don’t tease me.” His hoarse voice made you bite your tongue.

“Hm-mmh” the black haired man seized your ass back and forth, his tip meeting with your g-spot again and again until you could control your whimpers no more. “Like t-that, oh, my, ffuckk-k—feeling s-so good, daddy”

“Ain’t u’ too nasty for a brat that’s been fucked only once? Were u’ this fuckin’ kinky with the other one too?” you got a bit awakened by his jealous words about someone you couldn’t remember the bare face at this very moment, even more for Suguru not letting off his pace for a single second inside you.

“N-no, he couldn’t fuck me this good. Not even—oh, close, Sugu. Promise.” the pride look he gave you made your stomach shiver, you started feeling weird on your down belly. You felt him in your stomach. “S-shit..! Think m’ gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Gettin’ all worked out for ur daddy. Sucha good girl f’me, love.” Getou leaned you against the steering wheel and started biting and sucking onto your breast and ribs, his right hand holding you by the throat again, but this time you knew it would left a mark. You shared glances from underneath and your fucked up eyes made the dark haired man want to be inside you forever, for a hundred times, like you got him in a fucking leash. “Wan’ everyone to know you’re mine, fucking mine. M’ close too, baby, fuck.” you pant out loud as his two fingers start moving heavy circles on your clit greedly; legs shaking, thoughts blurring, dozens of ‘ah,ah,ah’s escaping your mouth uncontrollably. Your head hitting the car windshield at each trust.

“Inside me, daddy, please. Want u to cum inside me, fill me up—get me fucking full.” You didn’t even know how desperate you were until heard yourself speak.It took your words only for him to release his whole soul within your gummy and diabolically luscious walls. Suguru hips meet yours rougher and rougher till it hurts deliciously on your cervix, and you knew it was coming. You almost screamed at him; your body keeps spasming for seconds in a row, eyes rolling back enough for you to see stars. Your hips moved involuntarily into his and you were almost sure you stained his shirt with your pussy. You couldn’t stop the ’fuck’s pantingly off your lips, as you finally took his soft member from your dripping cunt.

“…You’re on pill, right?“ is all you hear Getou say after a whole minute of deep breathing silently.

“Seriously, Suguru?”

“Uhm, sorry. It’s just, you know, to make sure…” you don’t answer him. “It was pretty hot, though. The cum thing.” as if you did not understand at first.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Like, really fucking hot.” he happily giggles, looking down at his clothes, while you started putting yours back on, not speaking a word, not wanting to believe he was behaving like that after fucking your guts off.

You stayed in silence for a moment or two, what made you not pay much attention when the raven haired man stared at you and called your name, tenderly. A second went by as you give him an impatient ‘what?’

“I want to be with you. For real. A real couple... I—, I just can't hide this—,us, anymore, love.”

Suguru looked right into yours. It was sincere. You knew it was. And you didn’t know what to say.

“Suguru, I—“

“I don’t care if you don’t. Just needed to say it.” he gulped, clearly trying to be a mature adult. “I want to give you nice things, take you on dates, do all those normal couple things.” At this point you were back in your seat, locking the belt and fixing your hair.

“But we ain’t a normal couple, Getou.”

silence.

“Don’t u’ wanna try to be?”

You thought about it the whole way back. You wanted it to be different, too. Everything. Perhaps, if you were older, more mature, or somehow not involved in his family, it would have been easier. Perhaps you would not have to worry about loving. You wanted to be with him too. He holded your hand until you got home.

The stupid excuse of the large market queue you gave your mom worked out, after all. The lunch took an hour or two later to get ready than it usually did, Suguru and Gojo went out fishing right away. You sat on the beach sand, reading the book from before, watching them from afar, seeming like little ants in the deep blue ocean; sometimes you could see Satoru jumping out of joy for catching a big one. You stayed there until the sun started setting —or else, until they returned to the mainland. Satoru left the boat with his big fish in hands, ready to make it for dinner, and you looked away, a bit disgusted by the sight. You could now see Suguru finishing anchoring the boat and coming to you; it made you feel goosebumps up in the belly. You don’t break eye contact until he is right in front, still and wet.

“I went out fishing to find a mermaid in land? Lucky me, I guess.” you laugh at his flirting words. It really was not his thing, but, somehow, it worked on you. Getou gets to his knees and comes closer, too dangerously close, you try to get back to keep a respectful distance but he follows you, not caring about it. What happens is that he falls on top of you and now you’re both laughing and full of sand.

“Gosh, wasn’t your pick-up line bad enough?” you say, holding yourself in the elbows. Suguru got his arms keeping him up beside your waist. Your faces were two fingers sized apart. “…And you smell like fish”

“Ouch, love, can’t you be less cruel to this poor old man?” he gets you a giggle and it makes him guess an opening to hold your chin nearer, but you turn away.

“We can not do this here, Sugu.”

“Could a kiss kill someone?” He always has a way to retrucate your words.

“It depends on who you’re kissing.”

Then, he gives your lips a slow peck. Slow enough for you to get nervous, fast enough for you to miss him afterwards.

“Now, have you died?” Getou rubs your lips on his, ahead of getting up and leaving, but you kept there a bit more, smiling only for the sea to see. For a second, you were not afraid.

You two watched a random horror movie dvd your grandma had on the couch later that night, tv so old the screen cutted at the edges.You were laid covered in a thin blanket, the fireplace was on and Suguru, the big spoon, caressed your hair— and secretly sniffed it, sometimes. It was just a properly normal couple activity. No sexual intentions, just silly little jokes and love. Love?

“Did you fall asleep?” Getou whispered to you, moving the hair covering your ear, as for helping you hear him, but he actually just wanted to see your face better. “You got so quiet suddenly”

“Uhm, no, sorry. I’m awake, Sugu.” You got your head back on, but still feeling dizzy. Your mind nonstop on processing your feelings. Hearing his voice made your stomach shiver in anticipation. “U’ want something?”

“Yeah, could you get us some popcorn?” Excuse me? What an asshole.

“Are you serious? The movie’s almost over and now you want me to get you some popcorn?” he did notice how stupid he sounded when you were the one saying it. But, still, he shaked his head. For god’s sake.

You get up from the sofa and pause the movie in a bloody scene directly on the tv button. It’s not as if you were paying much attention to it, anyway. You can see his shadow following you from behind like a ghost as take the way to the dark kitchen. Once you stopped in front of the higher cabinet to reach the corn, his left hand intertwined your waist tightly, forcing it to come in touch with his own abdomen, and his right one grabbed the package for you. Asshole. You turn around to meet his nasty smile on that beautifully stupid face. A hundred times asshole.

“If you were coming to the kitchen anyway, why didn’t you make the popcorn yourself?” you cross your arms in front of him, staring with the cockiest eyes you could give. It did not work, Suguru opened his smile even more; it was almost like he enjoyed pissing you off.

“What’s the fun in that?” his gorgeous face coming closer and closer to your nervous one as he made you forget what you were mad about just every centimetre of proximity.

He purposely kept staring down into your gaze until his lips touched yours oh-so-tenderly. Almost as if he was afraid to close his eyes and miss you. The black haired man embraced you so naturally, your body moved for itself within his. His perfume inebriated your soul as a spell you would willingly fall for. You never wanted to leave this trance; never wanted to have the consciousness of time and place again. Suguru swiped his fingers into your body circumference, not skipping a single corner; like he wished to memorise it from head to toe, like he did not see a single flaw.

His silky kisses downed almost carefully to your ear, and jawline, and neck, and collarbone, and your eyes opened in excitement.

And you see your mom entering the kitchen.

And she looks at you.

And you feel the time and your heart stopping for a whole second. Your body frozened in absolute shock, like you had never felt since the teenage years. It was when Suguru noticed you were acting weird and looked up. “What happened, love?” you did not answer. You didn’t even blink. He followed your gaze slowly, afraid of seeing a ghost, or a demon. It was actually worse. “Fuck.” it’s all he said.

Yeah, yet again,

Fuck.

[cepheusgalaxy]

OKAY so that's what we have for Ola as of right now

[ID: A colored sketch of a boy with dark warm skin, a nose piercing and a colorful head covering styled like a hijab amira, but showing his hair and neck a bit. Its fabric is bright yellow with orange, red and blue patterns. He also wears a golden necklace. /end ID.]

I didn't want it to look like an actual hijabi so I made it show a bit of his neck and hair so it hopefully it isn't technically one

I am debating changing it completely so we don't mistake it but the problem is that I am completely in love with this sillouette so T_T

(Also im not sure if his clothes show his chest or what there's still a long way to go)

[longagoitwastuesday]

ngl it sort of pisses me off the way adults regard Gojo in Jujutsu Kaisen at times. Which could be a very interesting and poignant point in a good way if well written, but as it is it becomes mainly just frustrating and sad in a negative way.

Nanami saying Gojo never cared about anything or anyone other than himself crashes interestingly with Kusakabe saying the whole situation was just all his fault because he refused to kill Itadori. The students are very aware of those aspects of Gojo's personality, but overall they seem to regard him with way more kindness and fondness even when at their rudest, not truly coinciding with either Nanami's or Kusakabe's views.

[zoppzoop]

Post-test vent

[a-soft-fluffy-girl]

TL;DR: Steam just made library sharing so much fucking easier and so much fucking better. Instead of login-trading, it's just a simple goddamn invite.

Read this. Really. It's a good read. Because it shows that, full-stop, Valve isn't just doubling down on their stance to make sure that people can and should be able to share their copies of digital goods as easily as they can physical ones, but they're making it better and easier than ever.

But you know how Steam allowed you to, with either friends or family, link accounts with another person to be able to establish an ability to share game libraries with one another? The general gist of Steam Family Sharing was that, with a limit of five people plus you (six in total) on a limit of ten computers total could share account access to willingly mix your libraries. You could play theirs. They could play yours.

This was a huge boon. It was meant to emulate sharing a physical copy of a game. A way to allow children to play games their parents or siblings had bought without having to fork over double the cash to buy it a second game. But it had some major limitations and drawbacks, and was archaic to use.

If a person did not share the same computer, you had to manually log into that computer to give it and the accounts on it access. This wouldn't be a problem if both accounts were used on the same computer, but many households (and astronomically more family and friend groups) had multiple computers, all used by different people.

If that computer, at any point, was hard reset to any point before the sharing occurred, you lost access. And had to do the whole process again. This was also an issue with computer transfers. The whole kit and kaboodle needed to be redone on upgrades. On top of that, the old computer is now just dead weight that you may not realize you have to manually revoke access to.

Putting your account information on another person's computer opens up security issues. They could, intentionally or accidentally, land themselves on your account if the login information was stored. Which could easily lead to purchases or bans you did not want to happen.

If anyone was, at any point, playing any game on their own library, you had no access to their games. Even if it was a totally different game, you had to wait your turn as if waiting for their computer to be freed up to sit at. (Admittedly this is kind of like the "mom said it's my turn on the xbox" meme, but hey, kinda archaic.)

You could not choose whose library you accessed a game from. Not at all. It always prioritized the first library it gained access from, DLC access and multiplayer be damned. If another friend you were accepting games from had more DLC? Too bad.

And yet here we are. Steam Families Beta fixes EVERYTHING about the above issues. By just going through Settings > Interface > client Beta Participation and clicking onto Steam Families Beta? You get:

No more login sharing. No more computer links. You can now choose which person's library you borrowed from. And you can play any other game from someone's library, even while they're in-game. It just needs to be a different game than what they're playing.

Pick five people. Invite them to your family. And now everyone has access to everyone's library. My goddamn library went from 150-ish to almost a goddamn thousand in ten minutes of setup.

Account sharing and password sharing are dirty words that "lose" billions of dollars. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Max. They aren't game storefronts, but they still allow you to access massive libraries and scream like you murdered their firstborns for daring to share your password with your mother after you moved out.

Microsoft tried pushing to demonize and undercut used games sales and borrowed copies of physical games. Remember the first attempt to reveal the Xbox One? People forget, but these vultures tried to make an always online console that checked to see if you were the account that owned the game, even if you had a physical disc, and prevent access to the disc's contents if you weren't the original downloader.

Valve walked the fuck up. Valve tapped the mic. And Valve dropped the fucking thing right onto the ground with one feature's revamp.

About the only issues I can see with this are twofold:

If someone sharing your library gets banned from a game's servers... so do you. No one else in the family does, but the both of you do. This is... rather unpleasant, because banhammers can be dropped quite frequently by mistake. I'd urge Valve to rethink this one, but I see the logic: don't cheat and effectively bite the hand feeding you. Still making me side-eye that, though.

If you leave a family you've joined? You have to wait a YEAR to join a new one. It's to prevent people form jumping ship to another group and screwing over who's in the former one in the process, but a YEAR? OUCH.

Problems aside, though... it's probably the biggest fucking power move I have ever seen a media distributor make in the current economic climate. It's the kind of thing that would let so many new games be available in a way that's easier than ever. Just a few clicks to send or accept an invite, and bam. Permanent access to dozens or even hundreds of new games with so much more freedom than earlier drafts of the system.

It's the kind of thing that slaps you in the face with positivity after so many Ls from the games and media industries. And I'm all the fuck for a W like this.

[philosians]

ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say “yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

[urprettylildoe]

𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁ℯ𝒹

♡ yandere football player x fem reader ♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well. ♡ word count: 1.9k words ♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, suggested nsfw

His team had won yet again.

Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.

Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?

Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.

Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.

The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.

A message.

I know you're watching.

♡

"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.

"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.

The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"

A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:

"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"

For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."

Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.

But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"

He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"

His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.

♡

Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.

They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.

His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.

This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.

Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.

He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.

Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.

♡

Tonight was the night.

The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.

Blake.

To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.

You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.

Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.

You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.

Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.

One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.

In and out. Nothing is going to happen.

Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.

When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.

You were free. You. Were. Free.

No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-

maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.

You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.

"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."

Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.

He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.

"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.

I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"

His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.

"I-I'm sorry-"

Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."

It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.

His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."

Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.

And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.

You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.

This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.

He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.

You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"

"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."

A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.

"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.

You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?

"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."

His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"

The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.

You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.

"Rest, i'll take care of you"

You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.

Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.

♡

Copyright © 2025 urprettylildoe. All rights reserved.

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

[mariasont]

short n sweet but we need one where spencer loves head scratches and getting his hair played with

Heart Nebula - S.R

summary: spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying. pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, existentialism, star-gazing, astrophysics inaccuracies im so sure wc: 2.1k

"You'd be so proud of me today, you know."

You scoot closer, disrupting the careful folds of the blanket. The fabric bunches beneath your legs, damp soil seeps through, not quite wet enough to be a problem, but enough to make you aware of it. A blade of grass tickles stubbornly at your ankle. You wiggle your foot once, twice, it stays. Some things do.

Your pinky grazes his, the barest of contact, but he turns his head anyway. The night seems to fold him in shadow, softens his features, makes him look almost ethereal. His eyes give him away, glinting back at you, tiny shards of cosmos blinking back at you. It should be impossible to feel jealously of the sky, and yet.

"Yeah?" The familiar crease settles between his brows, a well-loved marker in the pages of him. His head tilts, waiting, not impatiently, already certain he's going to love your answer. "Why's that?"

Your smile jumps ahead of you, swells into one of those too-big-for-your-face grins. The kind that crinkles your nose, bunches your cheeks, makes your face ache after a while.

"I learned about a nebula."

Spencer's laugh starts in his chest and works its way out, rattling through his ribs, shaking his shoulders, until the momentum knocks his knee into yours.

"Look at you," he says, all teasing admiration. "I am proud. Which one?"

"I think It was called the Heart Nebula?" You glance at him, waiting, watching, half-hoping that he'll recognize the name, that he'll give you that little nod of confirmation.

He does. You beam.

"I saw a picture earlier, and it was just—," You trail off, eyes tipping upwards, letting the sky steal whatever poetic explanation you were about to give. "I don't know. Too beautiful to be real."

Spencer had been so excited when you told him you wanted to stargaze, his eyes had practically glowed, already rattling off a dozen facts about atmospheric conditions and celestial visibility, and why tonight was perfect.

He barely took a breath before he had been launching into a dozen more reasons, winding himself up so tight with words that the only way to release them, apparently, was kissing you. Feverishly.

Like he had no other way to translate his excitement into something tangible, something felt.

It made you want to promise him everything, to tell him you'd do this forever, that you'd let him drag you under the stars a thousand times over if it meant being kissed like that.

Spencer glances at you, his mouth twitching like you've just said the punchline to a joke you don't realize you're telling. You're here, waxing about a sky full of ancient light, calling the Heart Nebula too beautiful to be real, and he's looking at you like you've missed the most obvious part.

You narrow your eyes, but he only shakes his head, like whatever crossed his mind was his to keep.

"The Heart Nebula is full of newborn stars," he tells you, gaze still pointed on the sky. "Their radiation makes the gas glow red, pink. The whole thing shifts under stellar winds, reshaping itself, over and over again."

His voice wades its way through the parts of your brain, finding its place. He has this way of explaining things, of turning something infinite into something intimate. 

And you love that. Love how he does that. Love the way he sees things. Love him.

"It's about 7,500 light-years away. Which means the light we're seeing now left before humans even figured out agriculture." A small, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "By the time it reaches us, whatever we're looking at doesn't exist the same way anymore. It's already changed. Probably unrecognizable."

His fingers twitch against his thigh, probably resisting the urge to gesture. "Space is weird like that."

"I don't know, Spence," you tease, fingers pinching the sleeve of his shirt, catching just enough of him to feel real. His dimple carves into his cheek and your heart stumbles, caught between beats. "It kind of sounds like you're telling me I can't trust my own eyes."

"Well, technically you can't." He turns fully toward you, dimple still firmly in place, eyes flicking, too quickly, too obviously, to your lips. "The human eye takes in scattered bits of light, and your brain—" he taps your temple for emphasis "—fills in the blanks. Adjusts for shadows, alters colors based on what it thinks is there. Your eyes are compulsive liars."

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare."

There are moments when Spencer says something so casually devastating that your brain just empties, and this is absolutely one of them. Your mouth opens, then closes again.

"That's—" Your voice catches, so you clear your throat, shake your head, try to reassemble your thoughts. "That's a really unfair thing to say, you know."

Spencer blinks, like he’s running back through the conversation in real time, replaying his own words to figure out what, exactly, made you forget how to breathe. 

"Why?"

"Because some of us have a very delicate hold on their emotional stability, and you—” you point at him, accusing “— just shattered it in two sentences."

"Technically, that’s the limbic system at work. The amygdala controls emotional reactivity, but the prefrontal cortex tempers it."

You would try to unpack that, really, you would, but then his hands find your waist, and suddenly the ground isn't where you thought it was. You gasp, giggle, crash right into him, catching yourself with shaking hands against his chest.

"So really," he continues, as if you aren't sprawled across him, "if your emotional stability was shattered, you should blame your neural pathways, not me."

Your fingers twist in his hair as you lean in to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly, like proof, like inevitability maybe, a thought forming in real time, one you can press straight into his skin. 

"Maybe my neural pathways are just adapting to something worth remembering," you whisper, and the way he stills, the way his lips part just slightly, makes you think you might not be the only one.

Spencer makes a small, pleased noise against your lips, something that was half sighed and smiled, and you feel it, all of it, in the way his throat moves beneath your fingertips as he swallows.

"That... might be my favorite use of neuroscience yet."

You flash him a grin. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention when you ramble."

"I should've known you'd find a way to weaponize it."

You let your full weight settle onto him, chin perched on his chest, his heartbeat a slow song beneath your cheek. Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through soft strands, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, testing a theory you already know the answer to.

Yeah. Definite reaction.

"So that's what it takes, huh?" you tease, lips curling against the material of his shirt. You scratch again to be sure, and his next breath comes slower. "Just a well-placed brain chemistry reference?"

"From you? Yeah, that'll do it."

"Noted." A pause. Then, softer. "Keep talking to me about space."

"You know, you're kind of demanding." Spencer's fingers skate along your waist before he squeezes, firm and quick, like a punctuation mark to his sentence. 

Your head lifts, eyebrow quirked, fingers hovering just out of reach, close enough for him to feel the absence. "Excuse me?"

His smirk vanishes instantly, wiped clean, replaced by something perilously close to distress. His hands twitch at your waist, fingers moving like he can pull you back, like he can make you continue if he just wants it badly enough.

"Wait, wait, I was kidding," he rushes out, voice just shy of frantic. “Don't stop."

You grin, tilting your head like you're considering it. "Hmmm. Apologize."

"I—okay, I'm sorry, you're perfect, please—" his breath hitches, his laugh a little wild, a little helpless, "please keep going."

You giggle, fingertips weaving back into his hair. His response is immediate, a low, shaky sound that buzzes against your skin, something so content it makes warmth spreads through you like a lit fuse, spilling all the way down to your toes.

Spencer smirks, fingers drumming against your waist.

"You really don't let a guy off easy, do you?" He pauses for a second, glancing past you at the sky like he's taking in his options.

"Alright. Here's a fact you might like, every single part of you was once part of a star. All the heavier elements in your body, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, they were formed in the core of ancient stars, forged under immense heat and pressure, then scattered across the galaxy when those stars died, reforming."

His words drift to you, but you don't catch them all. You're too busy watching him.

Out here, in the absence of light pollution, you can see him more clearly than ever. The starlight doesn't just touch him, it claims him, dusting his skin in silver, catching in his lashes, turning the slopes of him almost unreal. Like if you blink too long, he might disappear, slip back into the night where he belongs. A constellation carved into the shape of a person.

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

And now, he’s teaching you it’s also carbon and oxygen forged in the cores of dying stars, pieces of the galaxy that had traveled billions of years to become chocolate flecks on a beautiful face.

He was right, it is a shame people never see their eyes the way others do.

"But how?" you ask. "Like... how does something go from being part of a star to being part of us?"

Spencer exhales softly and you can see the way he loves the question.

 "It's a long process. Billions of years, actually. When a star explodes, it sends all those elements out into space. They mix with other interstellar material, forming new stars, planets, and eventually..." He taps a gentle finger against your stomach. "You."

"That's kind of incredible."

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, grinning, that beautiful grin, the one that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. His fingers find your temple, trail gently down to your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Then, without pause, he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your nose.

"It is," he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek. "We're built from pieces of space, borrowed, passed down, stitched together by time."

"So you're saying we've been part of the same universe forever? That's kind of romantic, Spence."

"It's also backed by astrophysics. Science just happens to be romantic sometimes. "

"Well, good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I like knowing there's proof... but I think I would've believed it anyway."

You barely have time to register the flicker in his eyes before, he moves. In a second, you're on your back, the sky stretching endlessly behind him. The stars flicker, countless and beautiful, but right now, they might as well not exist.

Because all you see is him.

He hovers over you, gaze intent, studying you, like you're a phenomenon he never expected to witness up close. Like he's sure now, more than he's ever been about anything. Like you are the discovery of a lifetime.

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. "But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you."

Heat blooms beneath your skin. "More than the Heart Nebula?"

It should sound like teasing. It doesn't.

Spencer exhales, almost like he's amused by your doubt.

"The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all."

Spencer just looks at you for a moment. You don't move, don't breathe. And then he kisses you.

It crashes over you, stealing your breath before you even realize it's happening. His hands tighten at your sides, pulling you closer, like the space between you is unbearable. It's not rushed nor desperate, but it is consuming, the kind of thing that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, forehead resting against yours. "If the universe was capable of making something more beautiful, it would have done it by now."

And maybe that’s true. Maybe the universe, for all its galaxies and nebulae and infinite expanse, never did anything better than this. Not just you, but you and him together. 

Or maybe the universe will never quite get it right again. Because maybe this was its best work.

But it won’t stop trying. It never does. Even after you’re gone, even after you and Spencer are nothing but scattered atoms, the universe will keep going. Creating. Expanding. Changing. New stars will be born, dust will settle into something new, planets will form, galaxies will stretch apart. And maybe, somewhere, the pieces that were once you and him will find their way back to each other. And maybe, if the universe has any kindness left in it, they’ll get to love like this.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[littlemissshifter]

Don't force a shift.

Why is everyone trying to force a shift?? Like literally everywhere I see it's 'I'll shift tonight' or 'I'll lock in and shift' or 'I didn't shift yesterday but I will tonight' like? You know you can rest yeah? You don't have to 'go' so bad. The moment you think of shifting to your drs is the moment you've shifted. Do you even know how shifting works? I mean can we just relax? What's such a hurry to change the physical plane? Yes I know you miss your s/o, your friends and your family there but continuously hoping but not understanding how things work is not going to get you anywhere.

Get out of your own way. You don't need anything to shift. Shifting is your nature. You're shifting every moment because you're changing your awareness every moment. I can say from experience that moment you want something your subconscious knows. Do you know that your mind knows what you want? Do you know that you don't have to 'try' to do anything? Do you know that you just have to know now you have it? Do you know? Do you?

I'm seriously so sick of people saying they're gonna shift doing this or doing that. I understand if methods help you. I'm not trying to shame you for that. But the problem is when you wake up in your cr again your sweetass thinks that you didn't shift. LIKE WHAT.

You shifted the moment you thought of shifting. Say it with me SHIFTING IS CHANGING AWARENESS ONLY. The moment you claim that you've shifted, YOU'VE SHIFTED!!!!

Stop with the 'my surroundings didn't change', 'I didn't feel any symptoms' or 'I didn't try to shift'. Do you try to shift when you change your awareness from looking at your hands to looking at your feet? Did you try anything here? You didn't right? Do you try to shift when you change your awareness from one thought to another? Did you try anything here? Did you?

When you know that awareness is the only thing that matters, then why the fuck are you looking in the physical plane? Your reality is YOU. You haven't 'physically shifted' yet because you didn't shift internally!! There is no secret to shifting. Just know that you're in your dr (because you are!). That's it. That's literally it. You don't have to pretend anything. Just know the truth.

There is no need to do any method while going to sleep. There is no need to connect to your dr. You're already in your dr you can't connect more than that. In your mind exists literally every reality ever. You're already connected to every reality. There is no need to force yourself to feel any emotion regarding shifting. There is no need to affirm throughout the day. There is no need to gaslight yourself into thinking you're already there when your awareness is here.

You have you let your physical plane be. Stop fighting with the 3D. Stop fighting with yourself. It will pass through you when you let it. Your reality will change when you let it.

Your only job is to know that you already exist in your dr and that you're there. Everything else will shift on it's own because it's you. You just have to shift internally, you just have to know. Shifting is as easy as breathing. Every single breath you take is also a shift. It is super easy to do. Stop being in your own way.

Let every thought pass. Let every feeling pass. The knowing is stronger than any thought, any emotion. Stop looking outside of you when the reason it even exists is YOU.