#hopefully this makes a reasonable amount of sense

[viperwhispered]

Quick question: how comfortable are you with gore? I have an interesting scenario in my head.

Warning: light description of dead bodies and massacres.

So I was looking into mythology again and took a look at the story of Kali, the hindu goddess of pure unstoppable rage, death, time, and a form of Parvati. And it gave me a little scenario for OB!Jamil.

Let's say that everyone has some form of extreme/dark side. All these dark sides stay in their own dimension of sorts. For mages, it manifests as an overblot. For normal people, it's usually a manifestation of what they are at their worst.

The reader's darker side manifests from their desire to help others. Specifically an intolerance towards evil. While normally they'll accept that some people can't be changed while still promoting non lethal punishments, their darker side is basically kill on sight. If you're a scum of the Earth who commits unjustifiable evil (ex: abusers, pedos, rapists, etc), you're dead.

Cue the scenario: so we got OB!Jamil chilling in his massive palace partying it up with other darksides. It's basically a convention for hedonist (with limits, Jamil still has standards). Suddenly he gets a the news that there's a huge scuffle on his turf and it's getting in the way of party supplies.

Royally pissed off, Jamil marches out to deal with (ie kill) whatever is getting j the way of his party.

Then he sees this: a pile of massacred bodies, all darksides who's he's quarreled with or heard to have been below his standards, with what has to be the most sublime creature he's ever seen dealing a finishing blow to one of the survivors. The person slowly turns their attention to him, all the while oozing bloddlust. Just one look and Jamil understood: this is one of the most dangerous being to walk this world and they could crush him like a bug.

Cue cupid's arrow. Why? Because OB!Jamil is still Jamil and normal Jamil is currently in a very loving relationship with the normal version of the reader. OB!Jamil knows nothing of the person in front of him. Not their name nor their personality. But he does know that he loves them.

Jamil, now throughly enamored, grabs their hand and starts flirting, gleefully inviting them to his palace. The reader, still covered in blood and guts, just goes "huh?"

Reader: I just finished slaughtering your guests and your response is to flirt?

Jamil: well they're barely acquaintances. But I must say that you're radiance greatly outshines their filth! So how about it? Hmm, I promise the finest dishes and entertainment if you come along.

Reader: *starts laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation while slightly blushing"

Jamil: 😍

The pair then proceed to head back to Jamil's place and live happily every after.

This version of the pair also comes with the visual of Jamil and his beloved dancing on the corpses of their enemies.

We sure are headed for a full on au with these, huh?

Now I can't say I'm big on gore (at least when we get graphic about it, like it kinda put me off from watching game of thrones and the fallout show) but ngl I can kinda vibe with the sheer unhingedness of this all.

I'm also thinking of this in relation to the previous ask, with reader's destructive tendencies being particularly directed towards anyone who they feel has wronged Jamil. Those people (or whatever these beings are) not even knowing that crossing reader's path might be in some ways worse than Jamil getting his revenge on them. (Or if we're looking at darkside versions of people who have wronged normal Jamil… well, there's a few of those as well, isn't there?)

At least for Jamil's canonical overblot, imo the two things at the center of it were wanting power and wanting recognition (aka no longer being the one having to hold back and no longer having to take orders from others). Which, sure would be a reason for plenty of conflict with those other darksides, who probably aren't exactly enthusiastic about submitting to his will or anything like that. Plenty of folks for reader to lovingly mow down 🥰

I do love the concept of the feelings from the real world carrying over to these reflections, even if these reflections may not fully understand what or how it is happening.

Just “I'd crush the whole world for you 😍” “How sweet 🥰” for these two, huh?

Ah yes, dancing together on a field of your slain enemies, what an epitome of romance.

But talking of Kali also makes me think of one of them taking on the role of Shiva. Throwing themselves on the way of the other to stop their wanton destruction. Just, the potential for drama there.

Maybe even regular Jamil doing this with an enraged reader for whatever reason? I mean, he'd definitely have to be desperate to do something that endangers himself so directly, but the uncharacteristicness of it all just makes it even more tasty (and angsty, presuming it would still involve Jamil getting hurt. Tho depending on the particular history they have, he could always play it off that at least they're even now after he hurt reader during his overblot…)

Love it how I'm here like

Me: I'm not an angst writer

Also me: but what if Jamil was in such a desperate situation with someone he loves that he forgets all his usual cleverness / sees no other choice to stop what's happening except getting himself hurt by this person who he normally feels totally safe with

Oof 🥲

[margarrivergod]

i just read chapter 46 of jinx and OMFG WHATSUSJDKFKFKRKD (spoilers)

fyi i’m absolutely zooted rn so if this is wacky then sucks 🤡🫵🏼

BROOOOOOOOO the fact dan suddenly went a full 180!!! like FINALLY HE REALIZED LIKE FINALLY DAN!!!! jaekyung is lame asf we don’t need him here

BUT OMG THE PLOT THERES A REAL PLIT WTAFFFFFF the fact some mafia bastard r targeting the human asswipe is so funny to me, like finally u reap what u sow bitch 🤡

but the plot is actually so interesting i was NOT expecting it like wooooaaa

it’s crazy man

[thedevotionaltour]

in terms of art alone im sorry. im a jrjr defender to my last breath you be fucking nice to him. i dont wanna hear shit❗️❗️❗️

[spaceycat]

bucky being a human furnace is so canon, right now im mainly going to be posting drabbles because shit be crazy rn and my schedule is FILLED TO THE BRIM... so we're going on a small little tiny hiatus. enjoy this drabble lovelies <3

this is a fluffy fic!! i'm too tired to write smut and i just needed this rn 😭

⋆★⋆ human furnace ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: dream a little dream of me by the mamas and the papas (3:14)

You were naturally cold, always wearing multiple layers even when it's reasonably warm outside, a blanket always wrapped around you and the heater cranked so high - but that soon backfired on you.

It was the middle of winter, it was actively snowing outside - the streets being flooded with white snow upon parked cars and the side of the icey street outside your apartment. The problem was:

Your heater was broken.

There was nothing you could do about it, you had no mechanical skills and in a way you would make it worse than what it already was. Every mechanical service was down or busy for the holidays, so you just had to sit in your kitchen - using your oven as a makeshift heater while you were drowning in jumpers and blankets.

That's when you heard your front door unlocked, that's when you dragged your phone out from the many layers on top of you - realising the time, the time that Bucky said he would be over to deal with some work with you and just.. hang out? His text messages are confusing sometimes, but you couldn't expect much from the guy who was born during the 1910's.

And that guy was very much in your apartment now, and you're sitting on the floor in your kitchen like some idiot - you pushed the blankets off of you, creating a lump of fabric in the corner of your kitchen as you quickly checked your reflection in the window above your sink, running into your living room and Bucky was there, taking off his jacket and scarf that was covered lightly in snow. He took note of your shivering and the sheer amount of sweaters and hoodies you had on.

"It looks like you just went into a snow storm y'know." "My body is my own personal snow storm." "Mm.." He just simply hummed at that, placing his messenger bag on your couch before he walked over to you - wrapping his arms around you, his warmth surrounding you.

You weren't particularly expecting to do this, or for him to be this warm. You knew he was naturally warm, from light accidental touches or him placing a hand on the back of your chair instinctively. You silently thanked the super-soldier serum that most likely made him the human furnace that he is.

You leaned into his warmth instinctively, wrapping your arms around him in return after a moment. "You're freezing." "I thought you knew that." "I do now.. it finally makes sense why you're wearing jumpers even in summer." You'd pull back from him, his hand resting loosely around your waist. "My heater is shot, had to resort to desperate things." You tilted your head towards the kitchen in a gesture of the blankets on the ground. "Heater's shot?" He raised a brow at you. "Mhm." "Get yourself some tea.. or just-- something, I guess. I'll fix it." "Buck-- you don't have to." "If it means that I won't have to see you shivering all the time, I'll happily do it."

You eventually returned with a cup of tea, the heat from the mug cupped in your hand slowly warming it up from the cold. In the otherhand, a metal box hopefully containing all the tools that Bucky can do to fix your heater.

He took it from you with a simple "Thanks", you watched him tinker with the machine for awhile - it was definitely a sight you could get used to, your hand keeping your head up as you lean against the arm chair of your couch that let you have the perfect view of Bucky. You felt so warm from his presence it almost cured your temperature dilemma.

After a short while, the familiar humming of the heater started up again. Bucky stood up, closing the box of tools - setting it on the coffee table next you. The soft clang bringing you out of your thoughts. "All done." He sat down beside you, a short sigh coming from his lips as he sat. You looked over to him muttering a "Thank you.", a desperate plea in your eyes for him to hold you close again. He looked at you, a small grin forming on his face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him.

You rested your head on his chest, nuzzling into him a little bit more. His hand that was wrapped around your shoulder was now playing with your hair a small amount, almost as it was normal for him to.

You've been working on the heater since the early hours of the morning, it driving you out of your sleep - so it wasnt a surprise for you to slowly fall asleep against the warmth of the man that was Bucky Barnes.

As he heard your soft breaths, he grabbed the blanket wrapped over the couch that was nonetheless a result of your attempt at keeping yourself warm and draped it over you - placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head. Holding you forever closer as he heard the rain slowly fall outside. He could get used to this too.

[adonisbeloveds]

The Main Twisteds being jealous that you're trying to farm for Bassie.

Based off my lovely lovely experience of trying to get Bassie only to get EVERY SINGLE MAIN TWISTED AT LEAST 3 TIMES IN 3 DAYS. Anyway, yes I am alive hello hello, and apologise if any of the twisteds personalitys are not like the canon ones because I suck at writing in character! Reader is GN and doesn't use any pronouns, and Vee, Shelly and pebble are all meant to be seen as platonic. Also you can view them as yanderes or just really possessive.

ASTRO

"Please be- .....you're not Bassie." "Starlight..."

.Stay's as close to you as he can, he already know's who you are looking for -- and so do the rest of the mains. It's not like they hold any personal problems with Bassie, it's merely because they knew you first is all. .Remeber his old blanket? He makes sure that it's always wrapped around you, so when you leave and possible see Bassie -- at least she will know who you are close with. .With the way his hat moves I like to think it's either because A) he can control it or B) it has a mind of it's own -- either way it always ends up wrapping around you when you do the machine's, not that he minds though. you do astro please remove it the Ichor is staining your clothes for the 40th time. "Cuddles? Like we use to?" "Astro you always stain my shirts black with the amount of Ichor-" "......" "Sigh, Fine..." .Four arms equal 4 times the comfort of cuddles, and wrapped in his old blanket? It could almost make you forget about your whole Bassie situation. sadly it didn't but hopefully soon you will finally give up and sleep with him like you use to. .What happens when both him and Bassie are on the same floor? Well you barely see Bassie, it seems like he made it his life mission to keep you two apart whenever he could. .You also swear you hear him grumble everytime you pick up research labled as Bassie's, but at this point you can't distinguish between grumbles and weird purring noises he makes. "You are awfully clingly this time around" "mmm...." "That wasn't an invitation-" "......" "...You know I can't stay mad at you, you cuddlebug" "Mhm.."

VEE

"Vee...Vee this is the 7th time, the 7th time you have shown up." "We can make it 8th" .My darling Vee, the one who never frigging left me -- appeared so many times I got her to 100% in 2 days and she wasn't even on the board once. .She's already standing there when the elevator opens, already waiting for you -- and before you can even get a word in her tail is wrapping around you and she's walking off. "Come on Vee, put me down" "mmmm, nope" .She's talking your ear off about everything and anything, as long as your attention is on her she's over the moon -- though she rarely shows it. .She likes to tease you, with her being insanely taller than you, she uses it to her advantage -- but if she genuinely makes you upset about it she's quick to stop, even throughout all the fun she would never want you to be upset over something she did. .If you compliment her in any way her screen will bug out for a moment before she thanks you -- her voice a bit staticky. Of course you have complimented her before, and so have others, it's just she hasn't had much compliments in this form yet is all. .Somehow she always knows where you are -- what floor you're on, where you are in a blackout, even if she can't make it to the elevator before it arrives, she eventually finds you and picks you up. .You have a small suspicion it's because of her ability but at the same time she's been near you so much you've started to think she's just learn't your habbits. "Do you think I could play games on your screen" "I wouldn't let you test it" "You so would though" "....You might get a virus." "Aw man" .Unlike the others, Vee doesn't really care for Bassie -- in the sense that she won't try to take you to the other side of the map to be away from her. .What she will do though is stay very close to you -- sure you can go to Bassie for whatever reason but make sure to keep your main attention on her, she isn't as possessive as the others. .That's the biggest lie ever, you just don't need to know that or the fact she purposefully kept Bassie off the floors for so long. .If you do spend to much time focusing on Bassie you would hear a sound that's almost like a computer overheating, when you check on Vee she simply raises an eyebrow at your question before saying it's a silly idea, even though both of you can feel heat radiating off her. "Come on, she isn't that bad!" "I know my show star, but that doesn't matter"

SHELLY

"rrrrrr....." "No way, and what happened next?" .Unlike the others Shelly at least tries to help you with the machine, as she tells you -- or at least tries to tell you -- about everything and anything. .In blackouts she makes sure to stay close so you don't bump into anything -- even though she isn't as tall as the other main's, and is usually hunched over, she will try to stand as tall as she can while observing the area. .She love's it when you talk, whether you are talking about something, simply humming or just saying random words. Shelly love's the sound of your voice, and if you don't speak? She just love's being around you, it always makes her tail wag no matter what you do! "How does your tail wag if its just your spine?" "rrrrhhhh?" "Yeah I figured" .She really doesn't like sharing your attention, and it's only worse when you are actively looking for someone else. Don't get it wrong! Deep down she knows it isn't Bassie's fault, but her more protective mindset always seems to win her over. .She use to only growl or roar whenever someone went a little to close to you, but lately she's seem to pick up the habbit of biting people when she gets really mad, causing you to drop everything you are doing and running over to her. .You can't possible decide if she's doing it on purpose for your attention or doing it from protectiveness -- at this point you are more than convinced its at least a bit of both. "I- Shelly- Shelly no- no doN'T BITE HER SHELLY-" "Rrrrr."

SPROUT

"ahusfjhasfhassa" "Sprout I love you dearly but please put me down, the tendrils are cold and wet and-" "hasfsafhhas" "....that didn't mean hold me-" .You thought the others were clingy? Well get ready for mr overprotective here -- he doesn't want you leaving his line of sight, no matter what. .Hmm? You want to collect baskets for the...easter toons? Oh, well it's okay, he can...sort of help with that -- I mean you are only trying to make new friends is all. just don't talk about them to much, he's trying to hold back his possessiveness towards you but he doesn't know how much longer he can take .He can't necessarily voice his complaints but he can sure as hell try, from grumbles to simply picking you up and holding you as close as he could -- he could try to keep you away from the baskets and other twisteds but you seem so adamant about them. .No worries though, he can simply use his tendrils to carefully pick you up and hold you above -- making sure you can't get whatever it is you wanted. You don't like how they feel? No worry! He doesn't mind holding you the whole time. "Sprout, you're like...breathing down my neck right now-" "hsdfiajeidfng" "I just want the baskets..." "Hisdjmfkd!" "I thank you for wanting to bake for me, but I think the ichor would contaminate it-" .God forbid Bassie is on the same floor as you two, there's no way you are even touching the ground with how possessive he becomes -- scarf wrapped around and everything! .What do you mean you need to see Bassie? Don't you know how dangerous it is? and what if he loses sight of you? what if you get hurt, what if- no, the simple answer is no. .But please don't get mad at him! He can't help it! He just wants to protect you is all, it's simply out of his control what happens! "....." "....dfgrf?" "Hmph...." "iodkfjgddf?" "....ugh I can't do this silent treatment anymore, just behave okay?" "sjdngd!"

PEBBLE

"Pebble no- bad dog." "Don't whine at me that's called guilt tripping" .Have you ever wanted a guard dog before? Well now you have a very large and very vicious guard dog, yay! .He's such a happy boy, tail's wagging, he's almost trotting from happiness but that all goes down hill when he notices you paying more attention to the easter twisteds than him. .This causes very loud whining -- the only warning you get before you're jumped by him, causing the both of you to fall down and for him to stay on top of you. not to hard he would never want to hurt his favorite caretaker! .Now you have to play fetch with him! and give him treats galore! Just make sure there's no one around -- he WILL trample over them just to get to you even if you tell him to stop. "I'm such a good pet owner aren't I? Much better than Dandy who can't keep his DOG ON A LEASH" "Pebble with how fast you wag your tail you are going to knock someone out with it, or worse because it's a rock" .You already know Bassie's on the same floor, you can hear his growling and barking from a mile away -- be sure to get to him quickly or else he might just attack the poor basket. .When you get there it's almost like he was never angry -- kew word almost, if it wasn't for the fact he picked you up by the back of your shirt and bringing you somewhere far away from her. .When the two of you are far enough he puts you down before laying his head in your lap and very politely asking for pats for protecting you like a good boy! "Peb-Pebble do not growl and Bassie she didn't do anything wrong-" "PEBBLE PUT ME DOWN YOUR TEETH WILL RIP MY SHIRT"

DANDY

"....okay so I can explain-" "You purposefully wanted this, not that I'm complaining my flower!" .If you were anyone else you would of had a heart attack when you heard Dandy's music coming towards you at max speed -- but you aren't anyone else, and you already know how much favoritism leaks out of that flower. .Whenever you finish a machine -- you are always faced with a smiling rainbow face, his sharp teeth would probably scare others to death but you've seen it so many times it's become normal. .Such a patient gentleman he is, waiting for your signal before pouncing onto of you -- still being mindful of the tapes sticking out of him, making sure none of them accidentally scrape you. "You are such a cat" "Nope! I wouldn't say 'cat'..." "Dandy, you are literally kneading into me." .As long as you give him full permission he will knead on every spot on your body, of course he's careful of his claws -- he would never hurt you. .At most floors you wouldn't even know Bassie was there if it wasn't for her flowers on the ground. Instead of the others avoiding her it seems like she's avoiding you -- well, not YOU persay, rather the toon that follows you. .Say you finally get to see her, you immediately sense the tension in the air before watching Bassie run away as fast as she could on her four, yet small 'legs'. .Turning your attention to Dandy you witness the most deadliest side eye you have ever seen. If this is how he acts when she's not even close to you guys, you think it's best off that you don't get close to her. .You would want the Ichor to be the only physical bad thing that's happened in her life. "omg stop giving the poor girl the side eye" "Hmm? I'm not." "'I'm not a cat' my ass, your eyes literally just dilated when you looked at me."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

[zecroswe]

Self replicating and self annihilating, Mage Viktor, his goals, and Jayvik.

I have a lot of thoughts when It comes to Arcane as a show and I love season 2 a lot. One thing the show that I have been thinking about is Mage!Viktor and his true goal. You may wonder what I mean with this, after all his goal seems quite clear, 'prevent the Glorious Evolution/the end of the world and in the process break the timeloop/cycle Viktor and Jayce are trapped within'. And yes that is true, It is his goal! But if It was the only purpose of his actions, wouldn't the AU timeline Ekko ends up in be enough?

After all, that timeline has no Hextech and no Hexcore. The Glorious Evolution cannot take place in this timeline, so why did that timeline not break the cycle? Well let's first establish the nature of the timeloop/cycle.

Jayce and Viktor seems to be within a unstable multidimensional bootstrap paradox loop/cycle. I say unstable because the butterfly effect is very prominent in the show, so a small variable can change things significantly.

We don't know if there is a 'Original' timeline that started the cycle, so It seems safe to assume that the cycle is a bootstrap paradox with no clear origin point, something that in turn causes Jayce and Viktors partnership and the invention of Hextech to also be a Paradox. In this cycle there also seems to exist certain events that will more or less always happen, but not necessarily in the same way, or in other words, constants and variables within the timelines.

One of those constants seem to be that Jayce will always attempt to invent Hextech.

So if the goal was just to prevent the Glorious Evolution, the simple way to achieve It would just be to stop Jayce from inventing Hextech, but Mage!Viktor doesn't do this, because he can't do It, It would go against the true purpose of actions.

After a lot of thought and discussions with my older sister sense the show ended (also being insane about Jayvik), we came to a conclusion. Mage!Viktors goal is not just to prevent the Glorious Evolution or save Runeterra.

His goal is to save Jayce

To find a timeline were Jayce survives, with or without Viktor.

The reason to stop the Glorious Evolution is not only because It is the end of humanity and a world of dreamless solitude, but because It is a world without Jayce in It.

Suddenly a lot of the hoops Mage!Viktor goes through makes a lot more sense and also why the AU timeline Ekko ends up in doesn't achieve Mage!Viktors goal.

Jayce is most likely not alive in that timeline. According to Amanda, Jayce was exiled due to Vi dying in the explosion.

And well, we know what Jayce was about to do in the Main timeline when he *Only* got expelled and his research was ordered to be disposed of. It is very likely that Jayce in the AU timeline went through with taking his own life and AU Viktor most likely wouldn't be there to interrupt the attempt.

With this in mind and other key events in the show, finding a timeline were Jayce survives is actually really difficult! It is literally more likely that Jayce dies somehow than him living a full life time, I am not kidding. The amount of fail states that exist for this is honestly insane, so let's go through them shall we?

I will go through a few key events as examples and use certain scenarios to explain the potential chain reactions. Think of It like a flowchart, but without the chart. I can't take all variables into account, but I will show of some key examples to hopefully make sense of my point.

Exhibit A: The Blizzard

This is were the timeline spaghetti starts and were there is already multiple ways Mage!Viktors plan can go wrong.

Scenario 1: Mage!Viktor doesn't interfere

In this scenario two things could most likely happen. Either A: Jayce and Ximena die in the blizzard, or B: Jayce somehow survives the blizzard but Ximena still dies.

version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 1

Version B: Jayce is alive, but this will most likely lead to Jayce being exiled from Piltover due to Ximena not being around to speak up during the trial, and I am concred for Jayces mental state without a support network, the butterfly effect will most likely result in Jayce being dead somehow. Fail-state 2

Scenario 2: Mage!Viktor saves Jayce and Ximena but gives Jayce a Non-Acceleration rune or no rune at all

There is only one result of this. Jayce and Ximena both survive the blizzard.

Jayce is alive, but without the Acceleration rune, Ekko won't be able to invent the Z-drive and might be trapped in a AU timeline and as a result Arcane Herald Viktor will succeed with the Glorious Evolution, killing Jayce, Fail-state 3

Exhibit B: The Robbery

There is a lot of variance here and a few fail-states, but most of the fail-states are linked to the trial.

Scenario 1: Jayce doesn't get robbed

In this scenario Jayce would still keep his research a secret and most likely would not meet Viktor because his room is no longer a crime scene. This could would either lead to A: Jayces experiments with the crystals goes wrong and he blows himself up, B: Jayce doesn't succeed and is still stuck in his research or C: Jayce still gets put on trial somehow for having illegal contraband.

Version A: Jayce is dead, Fail-state 4

Version B: Jayce has no one to ask for help with his research and according to what Jayce wrote in his journal, his grades at the academy are dropping and might be at risk of expulsion.

Considering what Jayce almost did when he got expelled....Yea i think It is safe to call this a fail-state. Fail-state 5

Version C: Jayce would be put on trial and the nature of his research would come into question. He would still probably be expelled from the academy due to the illegal nature of his research. The main diffrence is that Viktor might not be at the trial this time and not be inspired by Jayce. Meaning that Viktor would probably not seek Jayce out, meaning that Jayce probably would go through with his attempt uninterrupted. Fail-state 6

Scenario 2: Jayce gets robbed

Well we got a example of a fail-state in the show for this but it is still worth mentioning. A: One of the kids dies in the explosion or B: Jayce dies in the explosion.

Version A: As mentioned earlier, Vi or any of the other kids dying in the explosion leads to Jayce getting exiled. Fail-state 7

Version B: Jayce is dead. Fail-state 8

Exhibit C: The Hexcore

Won't go into too much detail here because It would take waaaay to long, but the Hexcore is basically a exponential fail-state here. Considering what the Hexcore can do and what Jayce does with It in the show, the Hexcore basically means that any scenario Viktor dies a potential fail-state. Because one could argue that if Viktor dies at any point when the Hexcore is invented, Jayce will likely use It to do necromancy on Viktor, putting everything on track for the Glorious Evolution, or fail to do necromancy instead do something else insane that may or may not get him killed. The Hexcore is a temporal mine of fail-states, one that cannot really be prevented fully because Hextech + Viktor = Hexcore gets invented, and as established, No Hextech = No Jayce and No Viktor = No Jayce. Fail-state 99+

It is impossible for Mage!Viktor to stop the cycle before the Hexcore due to all the fail-states mentioned above. The only chance he has is if Jayce someone stops Arcane Herald Viktor before the Glorious Evolution starts. The Hexcore needs to be properly disarmed, or else It metaphorically explodes and Jayce dies.

Conclusion:

Mage!Viktor and Viktor in general is just as codependent for Jayce as Jayce is for Viktor. Both of them are fully willing to bend all of reality for each other. They both doom and save each other over and over and over again, just to stay together. The only way this cycle breaks is if they both make It out alive or both of them die together (I think they live but I digress). Mage!Viktor probably would not predict Jayce to stay with Viktor, It was not a requirement for his goals after all, but Jayce would never abandon Viktor and Viktor would never abandon Jayce.

In a way, Jayce and Viktors bond is the anomaly, self replicating and self annihilating, the beautiful intersection between order and chaos. Viktor replicates the cycle by trying to save Jayce and Jayce keeps self annihilating through his attempts to reach Viktor, knowingly or not, by inventing Hextech. They are soulmates by choice, the universe is trying to separate them any chance It gets and yet they keep fighting just to be together, and I think that is beautiful!

TL;DR: Mage!Viktors primary motivation is to save Jayce and find a timeline where he doesn't die before or during the Glorious Evolution. This process is extremely complicated because the universe does not like Jayce Talis existing because according to the timloop/cycle paradox, his existence is a time-space anomaly. Jayce and Viktor are both insane and willing to break all laws of time and space to be with each other. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Beware the Wolf || Loki

A/n: I'm not entirely happy with the smut on this, but I pushed through somehow. One thing to remember while reading is that during the Goldberg scene, I used the way the manga depicts his lisp. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): arranged marriage au, gender-neutral reader, Charlotte Reader, Devil Fruit, family drama, sins of the mother, angst, distrust, teasing, dirty talk, understanding, size kink, losing control of ability, oral, rough sex. Words: 5,985.

Tag list: @marsilis @hoo-hoo @jj-ma26 @guillotine-enjoyer @whateverthought

No Minors Allowed!!

I should have known.

The attention is a dead giveaway, shoved down your throat like the island's best confectionery; so saccharine that it rots your common sense and infects your mind. Mama’s attention is a delicacy all her children crave. Including you. So when the truth comes out, you are irritated. Blaming yourself certainly will not soothe the pain, so you spare yourself the pity.

“Don't give me that sour look,” Big Mom orders. She leans forward in her candy-themed throne; the eyes of her Homies watch in silent glee as she chastises you. “Make yourself bigger. It's easier to talk to you that way.”

You suppress a sigh. Activating your Devil Fruit, you grow in height to an appropriate size for her, replacing your expression with a look of aloofness. While it is a useful power, you hate to use it like this. Height is no easy property to master, especially for something so mundane as preventing Mama from putting stress on her back.

“Are you certain it's me you want to do this?” You ask. “I'm not being ungrateful but there are far more suitable replacements.”

The Homies retort to spite you, uttering obscenities.

“Ungrateful shit.”

“Asshole.”

You could be both; you honestly want to be. The temptation to bare your teeth at the woman who controls your life like a puppet on a string is almost too hard to ignore. You are mad; you deserve to express yourself. But in the end, you opt to tuck tail. Disobedience will cost your soul. You slide your hand behind your back, clenching it into a fist. Hopefully, Mama will reconsider, but her mind is set.

“There certainly are, but none I care to expend,” she simply states.

You tighten your jaw. Of course. Expendable; that's an appropriate word for what you are.

“I understand,” you lie. Your Haki gives away your annoyance, however.

Big Mom raises a curious brow, then leans forward in her seat again. The air in the room suddenly feels heavy as her menacing presence swallows you like quicksand. It is almost hard to breathe.

“You do understand the importance of this union, don't you? I won't settle for another setback, not after the amount of groveling I had to do to that stubborn king.”

You understand. But why must you be the one to suffer? You have an island to tend to, a responsibility as a Minister. No, you do not wish marriage on any of your siblings, especially a loveless arranged marriage, but such is the fate of Mama's less-liked children.

Besides, as desperate as Big Mom is to have the power of the Giants beneath her finger, choosing you to bear the weight of a political union is ill-advised. You simply are not spouse material. She could offer better. Thinking badly of yourself puts a bitter taste in your mouth, but it's true. The Giants are going to see how lightly she is taking the union; they are not dumb, and again, she will suffer their scrutiny.

There is another reason, however, that you are against marriage to King Harald's youngest son.

“I do, but–”

“But what?” Big Mom interjects in annoyance.

Her Haki is so suffocating that you shrink back down to your normal height to show her that you mean no disrespect. Even the Homies cease their insufferable chattering. Would she understand your reasoning?

I'm not Lola.

Loki of Elbaph will not accept you. He had turned down Chiffon. You are certain he will do the same to you.

The irritated expression on Big Mom's face urges you to swallow your worries, however.

“Nothing, Mama. I'll leave for Elbaph in the morning.”

Big Mom smiles widely. Her Haki vanishes, a weight off your shoulders that makes you feel much better.

“Good, child. When you return in a week, a grand tea party will await you. Ma Ma Ma!”

You force a smile. A week. That is a lifetime in Hell for someone like you. But what does she care if you suffer for her? You are expendable after all.

–

It's comforting to know, during this stage of the trip, sailing east toward Elbaph, that you are not entirely alone. Mama, to ensure your safety, had sent two of your siblings with you.

The first, standing with you on the deck of the ship near the bow, you almost wish had just remained home. He will not leave you alone, even when it is clear that you are not entirely listening to him.

“You lickity better start listening to me if you don't want to disappoint Mama,” Persospero argues.

He gently thumps you over the head with his cane for the third time. You are tempted to roll your eyes, but to avoid being thumped again, you nod.

“I am listening, Brother Peros. You said to be as sweet as possible. Mind my Ps and Qs in front of the royal family. I plan to.”

He groans as though he is suspicious of you, but does not give a response. Lifting his cane, he gives it a taste. You curl your nose in response; germs must not be a word he is familiar with.

“And?”

You hum. And what? The clueless expression on your face makes him narrow his brown eyes.

“I knew you weren't lickity listening.”

He raises his sticky cane to thump you again, but a calm, yet serious voice interrupts him.

“Refrain from teasing our sibling too much. We're here.”

Katakuri ambles onto the deck from the bowels of the ship, joining you and Perospero near the bow. You give him a grateful nod, then turn to the eldest brother, sticking out your tongue as if to goad him. He simply glares and ignores you for the moment.

“I contacted the king in Warland. He will send an escort to meet us at the docks,” Katakuri mentions. “As instructed, we will remain here on the ship for the time being.”

You frown. There is the kicker. Neither of your brothers are allowed on the island. You will be alone, though, to an extent, you are sure. Katakuri would never let you go completely alone. You glance at him.

“Will I be able to contact you?”

“As if we'd trust you to behave yourself. Kukuku,” Perospero answers teasingly.

He removes a baby transponder snail from his coat and tosses it to you.

“If you need us, you can call us,” Katakuri adds.

You smile at him. It feels better to know that Katakuri will have your back, should you need him. Perospero not so much, but you are grateful to have him along for the trip regardless.

Moments later, the ship docks in Elbaph. What you see both shocks and awes you. It's something you will never forget. A colossal tree rests in the center of the island, growing high into the clouds; so high you can not see where it ends. At its base, near the center is a frozen forest, leading to a grassy plain that ends at the coast. You can make out a mountaintop castle in the forest, but not much else.

A dreadful silence fills the air, and then suddenly the heavy sound of footsteps meets your ears. You stiffen as a Giant emerges from the frozen forest, a woman with long blonde hair. She reaches the coast quickly and stands before the ship, gauging you and your brothers with a sharp expression. It almost feels like a showdown. The air is tense and it's obvious why.

You step forward, offering her your name and your hand. There is an obvious size difference, but it would be rude not to show her some respect. The woman stares at you a moment, as though she is unsure, then leans down and lifts out her finger. It's an awkward shake, but you are glad she recuperated.

“My name is Gerd. We should head on to the castle. My King requested to meet you.”

You understand. Turning to your brothers, you nod to show that you are ready. Katakuri says nothing, but the comforting look in his crimson eyes indicates that he believes in you. Perospero, on the other hand, appears less than enthusiastic.

“This is important. Don't you lickity mess it up.”

You consider flipping him the bird, but to give off a good impression in front of Gerd, you simply nod. There are no goodbyes exchanged, no loving words. The children of Big Mom do not express their care openly, but for once, you kind of wish both of them would have told you how much they appreciate you for not running when you could have. You certainly thought about it.

Departing from the ship down the gangplank, you join Gerd on the shore. She rests her hand on the ground and for a moment, you stare at her in uncertainty. Does she want you to–

“It will be faster for me to carry you to Warland. The bridges connecting the two regions are not suited for those smaller than the people of Elbaph,” Gerd explains.

You hum in understanding, but you still don't like it. Would it be appropriate to use your Devil Fruit instead? You can not directly match the height of a Giant, but she would not have to carry you. It would probably be best to ask the king first. In reluctance, you step up onto her hand, sitting down so that you don't make an ass out of yourself and fall.

Gerd slowly stands and begins to walk toward the tree. You can hear her footsteps as she enters the forest. The frozen air nips at your body, not yet accustomed to the weather, but she shields you with her hand in an attempt to keep the wind from reaching you.

“Thanks,” you say in appreciation.

She seems hesitant to speak to you. A deep uneasy sigh leaves her mouth, jostling your hair, but in the end, she gives in. Her sharp light blue eyes fall on you.

“This union most likely will not happen. After everything Linlin has done, I do not see my people welcoming you with open arms, least of all Prince Loki.”

At least she is honest. You understand, though. Years of bad blood can not easily be ignored. You do not know what made the Giants turn on Big Mom, but you know she is not as innocent as she claims.

“It's no problem if you don't,” you state. “Mama should let this one go, but she is desperate to create a utopia for all races to live in peace together. I'm not sure why it's so important to her, but as her child, I have to at least try.”

Gerd's expression softens.

“I'm sorry you have to go through this.”

“Don't be,” you retort. “It should be me who is sorry. Your people should not have to cater to her or me.”

The conversation soon dies off as Gerd takes you across a wooden rope bridge into the upper region of Elbaph. She, to your relief, unshields you, allowing you the chance to glimpse upon the primary village. It's impressive, an entirely different environment than that of Totto Land. The buildings, for one, are massive; houses and watchtowers made of sturdy wood as opposed to candy and chocolate.

The Giants roaming around look a bit on edge, but their smiles hold no secrets; they do not hide the fear of their souls being taken, not like the people back home. It's comforting and it makes you wish that they had turned you away immediately. You have no idea what Mama wants with this union, but something in the pit of your stomach fills you with dread.

It's fine. So long as Loki turns me down.

At the entrance of a fortified castle, Gerd kneels. You take it as the journey is over, so you stand and leap to the ground, pleased to be on your feet again.

“Stay here. I'll be back to get you once the king is ready,” Gerd orders.

You reply with a brief nod, watching as she opens the door to the castle, sinking into the darkness within. The door closes behind her. In the meantime, you sit on the upper step with your feet dangling off the edge as you stare out at the village. A few Giants spare you a look, but none of them approach you. It's better this way, you reckon.

A short amount of time passes, then the door opens again. Before you can glance back, the shadow of a hand dwarfs you. It's so unexpected that you do not move in time before a Giant grabs you by the back of the shirt, lifting you in the air.

“H-hey. Put me down.”

A deep chuckle is the only reply you get. Whoever they are, leads you into the castle like a mother cat carrying her kitten. You have no idea where they are taking you, more focused on keeping your shirt from choking you to death, but thankfully, the trip does not take long. Behind another door, you see Gerd and another Giant resting on an enormous throne; King Herald, you are certain. The former stares at you with wide shocked eyes.

“Look what someone left on our doorstep,” the Giant carrying you says with a chuckle.

“Loki,” Herald chides.

You hear him hum in disappointment, then he unceremoniously lets you go. You shout in fear, but thankfully Loki catches you in his other hand. A clever ruse. On your back, trembling, you stare up in shock and irritation at him, but he simply sticks out his tongue to mock you. This is him? Prince Loki.

She wants me to marry him?

He is extremely handsome, yes, with long light hair and muscular tattooed arms, but his people skills need work. You understand that you are the child of Elbaph's nightmare, but treating you like a toy is uncalled for. Standing on your feet, albeit unsteadily, you straighten out your clothes, then square your shoulders. Loki tilts his head.

“Oh.”

“That was–”

No. No, no.

Behave. You had promised Perospero that you would be sweet. As much as you want to cuss him for scaring the hell out of you, doing so would only exacerbate the situation. You take a deep breath, relaxing your shoulders.

“Thanks for catching me.” Despite your appreciation, your tone has a bite to it.

Loki hums. He gives you a look of disappointment, but like the flip of a coin, his expression changes.

“I'm undecided.”

“Undecided,” Herald repeats.

What does he mean? You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for an explanation, but Loki gives none. He rudely lifts you again by your shirt, then ambles over to Gerd, handing you off to her. You are never going to get used to this.

“But Loki…” Herald tapers off, then sighs. “A week, son.”

Whether he heard him or not, Loki walks out of the room without a word.

You are in shock. This is not at all what you had expected.

He was supposed to say no.

Why didn't he?

–

It takes three days, three long and infuriating days for you to come up with an answer to an existing question of yours. Why didn't Loki say no?

At first, you had thought that he might have warmed up to the idea of marrying you, but based on the past, and the blatant display of displeasure he seemed to show when you met his gaze, you quickly dismissed it. Then, you had thought that maybe he just needed some time alone and away from you, but somehow, no matter where you had escaped to he always seemed to be. In this time, he went to any length to annoy or fluster you, either by humiliating you or making comments that boiled your blood.

The reason for his answer is simple, you come to realize.

He's torturing me.

With a sigh of annoyance, you flop down on your bed, a frame made of blocks with a foam mattress that Road reluctantly put together for you. Gerd leans down, giving you a look of pity.

“Are you OK?” She asks.

No, you certainly are not. The memory of the last confrontation with Loki is still fresh in your mind. Your face feels heated.

“Did I set myself up for that one?” You ask.

Gerd snorts. “You sort of did.”

Wonderful.

“I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

You could not help it, though. Loki had been itching for a confrontation. You had been down at the river when it happened.

A bright pink salmon several times bigger than you leaps upstream and then disappears within the water’s depth. It's truly unbelievable just how massive everything on Elbaph is. You can hardly contain your curiosity as you rest on Goldberg's shoulder as he prepares a fish net - Gerd claims that he's an amazing cook.

“Do the salmon get bigger than that?” You ask him.

It's been like this most of the day. You ask questions and either Gerd or Goldberg answers you, seemingly unphased by your curiosity. There is still an air of uncertainty around them whenever they meet your eyes, but at least they are kind enough to talk to you. Some of the Giants turn up their noses and ignore you - Prince Hajrudin for one - but you do not hold it against them.

“Shome do. If they shurvive the Underworld below, they will shpawn and leap back up the waterfall,” Goldberg lisps.

You imagine fish as big as ships in the Underworld. It makes you feel a little uneasy with your brothers docked below, but you know they can take care of themselves if the need should arise.

The sound of heavy footsteps nearby catches your attention, but immediately you come to dread looking as you meet eyes with Loki. Even resting on Goldberg's shoulder, amongst the folds of his gray cape, you know he sees you. His tongue slips from his mouth, wetting his upper lip, and then, much to your dismay, he approaches.

Strands of the cook's dark orange hair brushes you as he, too, takes notice.

“Prince Loki.”

“That won't do,” Loki opines. He looms over you, staring into the water with a thoughtful look, then hums. “I know. The best way to catch a fish is bait.”

Bait. You gasp in shock as he suddenly lifts you, dangling you threateningly over the water. The fucker. He's getting off on how much power he has over you; it's annoying. Regardless, you bite back and insult, yanking aside the neckline of the shirt that Road had made for you.

“Put me down, please. This isn't fun for me.”

“That's a shame,” Loki teases. “I'm enjoying it.”

Of course, he is. You tighten your jaw.

“I'm sure you can satisfy your entertainment with something else aside from teasing me.”

“I'm sure I can, but right now, you're the only thing I want to play with,” Loki retorts.

For some reason, your mind goes straight to the gutter. It's his tone; the way his tongue peeks out from behind his teeth as though he might at any second taste you. Swallowing hard, you feel a tad bit warm under his playful gaze. It is not your intention to speak without thinking, but the words like vomit seem to pour out.

“Go play with yourself. You have two hands, don't you?”

The grin on his face falters a moment, then Loki guffaws. You feel like a ball hanging from a string, rocking unsteadily back and forth until his sudden bout of laughter stops. Not even Goldberg knows what to say, staring in confusion at the interaction in front of him. His gaze changes, becoming predatory. Like a lone wolf about to take a bite.

“You wouldn't match up to my size anyway. But it might be fun to see how far I can take you before you break.”

You aren't quite sure if he had said anything after that, but you are certain he left you with an unexpected size kink. By the time you had returned to the library - your temporary room - it felt like your body had been left out in the sun too long.

You are exhausted; this entire situation is exhausting. With a groan, you sit up and face Gerd. The same question has been plaguing you since the day you met the youngest prince.

“Why do you think Loki hasn't made up his mind yet?”

It's an honest question, one that Gerd does not seem to know. She hums with uncertainty.

“That's something you would have to ask him.”

Of course. You sigh. Maybe tomorrow, but certainly not today. You don't think you can ask him with a straight face so soon after the interaction, not while you are drunk on the memory of a spiteful quip.

Unfortunately for you, the question is left unanswered. You start to see less and less of Loki throughout the week until you are six days in. At breakfast, you see him briefly. He wanders by when you are seated between Gerd and Goldberg, telling the former to bring her pet Piper, a giant owl with light and dark alternating feathers, with her during the morning hunt. You consider asking him to come see you when he is done, but in the end, you decide against it. With one day left, despite wanting to know, you figure it does not matter as much as it had on day one.

The question, at the time, slips from your mind and so too does the Prince of the Giants. Until that night.

You are sitting on the sill of the library window, staring out at the vast landscape of Elbaph when the door creaks open. It's not unusual for someone in the castle to wander in during the night when sleep is far from their minds, but normally they knock first. You don't care to peek, expecting a thrall, but when the glass reflects the muscular, yet thin frame of the youngest prince, you quickly glance over your shoulder at him. What is he doing here?

Swallowing hard, you ignore his sudden presence, turning back toward the window. You watch him in anticipation as he rests, legs spread in a wooden stargazer chair. A tense awkward moment passes, and though you had expected him to speak, his question makes you tense up.

“You have a Devil Fruit, no?”

You take an uneasy breath.

“Yeah.”

It's not like it's a big secret. While considered rare, a great many notable people have eaten them. Though oddly, you have not seen anyone on Elbaph with a Devil Fruit power.

“Show me,” Loki demands.

“I can't,” you admit. “I made a promise to your father, the king, that I would not use my power while I'm here.”

Loki whistles, impressed.

“You must be something special then.”

An air of sadness washes over you. No, not really. The reality of the situation is a bit of a letdown.

“It's not impressive. I can increase and decrease the size of whomever or whatever I touch,” you explain. “Including myself.”

Which would come in handy on an island like Elbaph, but promises are promises, something Loki does not seem to care about.

“Show me.”

You tighten your jaw.

“I already told you, I–”

“Do you always do as you're told? Things would be so much easier if you lived how you wanted to,” Loki interrupts. You watch him tilt his head back, as though he is lost in a memory.

He has a point.

But you can't.

“Only those with power can live how they want,” you utter.

Loki snorts.

“So we can agree on something.”

How ironic. You stand with a grunt, turning toward him. He rests his head against the backboard of the chair, lazily watching you as you do so. It's hard to deny, but he looks tempting, so tempting, you feel a bit overwhelmed.

“Did you really come here to ask me about my Devil Fruit power?” You ask while tilting your head.

“Maybe,” Loki answers. His grin widens. “I'll tell you if you show me.”

He's persistent. You sigh in annoyance. Does it honestly matter though? Aside from your curiosity, it satisfies nothing.

“I'm not that interested.”

His humor fades and though his expression becomes aloof, he straightens in the chair.

“Oh. Then I guess you won't be interested to know I am in favor of the marriage proposal.”

What. Why? You knit your brows.

“You can't be serious.”

“You'll never know,” Loki states.

The nerve of him. With an irritated grunt, you climb down the sill, then use your power to increase your size. It's a known fact the Giants of Elbaph are around 20 meters tall, and though you can grow much taller than Big Mom, you still pale in comparison, which you soon learn, as Loki stands to gauge you.

“Is that all?” He asked tauntingly.

“I don't have awakened powers yet. 13.50 meters is as tall as I can get,” you admit.

Mid chest is as far as you can reach.

“We made a deal. Please answer the question,” you state.

“Did we?” Loki asks. He hums as if to say ‘I don't recall ever doing that’.

Closing the gap in a heated rush, you place the palm of your hand against his chest.

“I told you how my power works. Unless you want to be the one looking up at me, then I suggest you tell me why.”

Loki brings up his hands in defense. He seems more humored than scared, to your annoyance.

“Hey now. I was only joking.” His abs flex, and though you are flustered by this action, you keep your hand where it is as if to warn him. It gets worse when his tone changes, becoming lax. “As far as I can tell, you don't actually want to go through with the arrangement.”

“That's…not true,” you attempt to lie. “I do want to marry you.”

Snorting, Loki takes hold of your wrist, lifting it above your head.

“Is that right? Because the entire time, you've been here, you've done your best to avoid me, and I know better than to believe that you were just giving me space,” he explains. “As desperate as your mamma is, she would have you try a lot harder.”

He's right. She would. Wooing him is what she would want. Or to turn yourself out to him. You tighten your jaw.

“I didn't because it wouldn't matter. I'm…not Lola. You never would have said yes to me.”

At the mention of Lola's name, he frowns. You wonder if he still thinks about her from time to time, about how she rejected him. In a way, you are a bit envious of her. She wanted to live her life freely and marry who she wanted to. You aren't sure you could ever disobey Mama like that.

Why couldn't I?

The woman clearly did not care about you. She had the right idea, to unite the races of the world, but her dream had become more of an obsession. Her gluttony and greed knew no bounds.

“You're a bargaining chip,” Loki states.

Hearing it out loud from the mouth of someone else just feels…heart-rending. You tighten your jaw. Regardless, it's true.

“Don't you think I know that?”

Loki bends to your ear. You aren't sure why, but his tone sounds almost wicked.

“What if I said you don't have to be? Agree to marry me, and you can live as freely as you like.”

You don't understand. He should not want to marry you, a child of Big Mom.

“Why?”

Loki grins. His tongue mischievously slips from his mouth.

“Because I don't like to see that woman get her way, and something tells me you don't either.”

The entire kingdom will be at war if you flee the wedding, but perhaps that is what Loki wants. But why? Because of Shanks, the Yanko who protects the island. Or because Loki knows he can beat her. Either way, it's a terrible idea. The consequences are too great, but there is something about the promise of freedom that hangs over you.

Under Big Mom, it's not possible.

“I want to live my own life.”

As free as Lola.

As if your words of rebellion light a fire in him, Loki releases you and runs his fingers down the length of your spine. It tickles, prompting you to arch your back, but more so, it feels good, too gentle for someone like him. Your heart races as you come to realize maybe you like how warm and defiant you are around him.

“You have a silver tongue, you know.” And muscles I'd love to bite, you opt not to mention.

“Oh,” Loki coos. “Trying to flatter me, are you?”

“No. Just hung up on what you said at the riverside,” you breathe.

To be honest, you haven't been able to think of much else aside from just how he would break you.

“It might be fun,” you echo back at him.

Loki snorts.

“Is that the aspiration of your mamma?”

He is going to kill the mood if he keeps spouting off about Mama. It's her aspiration to bring the Giants into her country. You don't have to sleep with Loki to achieve this, but you have a feeling he already knows. It's as you told Gerd; he loves to torture you.

“You talk too much.”

Loki fakes a pout.

“Do you wish for me to shut my mouth that badly?”

At this point, it doesn't matter if he does or doesn't, but to tease him, you answer.

“I honestly don't think you can.”

Pulling you closer, to your shock, his lips touch yours for a brief moment. When he leans back, he pokes his tongue out between his lips as if to say ‘Be careful what you wish for’. As it happens, this is exactly what you want.

“That's a start,” you state.

It's at this point, you realize you had bit off more than you could chew. Everything after that progressed so fast. It had started with a rough kiss, then moved into a sloppy make-out that sent shivers down your spine.

In a warm haze, you remove your clothes, losing yourself to salacious thoughts the moment Loki slides his pants off, revealing his cock to you. Unfortunately, you do not get to take in the moment. He presses you against the nearest bookshelf; the musty, lightly sweet scent of old books fills your nostrils.

With another brief, wet kiss, Loki hooks your legs over his shoulders and stands. The shelf to your back erases the fear of falling, but still, you bury your fingers in his hair to keep yourself steady. You have a feeling, however, that your attempt will soon be in vain. A pregnant silence looms in the air as you wait, anxious and in need of his attention. The moment it comes, you sigh in relief.

Loki gently tastes your sensitive skin as though he's testing your limits. It's when your back arches and your thighs tighten around him that he devours you. In an instant, your worries fade; you can hardly concentrate on anything but him, the lewd wet noises coming from between your thighs, and the way that he makes you feel.

Desperately, you want this pleasure to never end, but you are a fool for hoping. His calloused fingers tease your hole, one easing inside, then another to prepare you. The way you stretch to take him drives you feral. The first coherent thought that comes to mind sends you spiraling over the edge. You tighten your jaw, trying not to make a noise but your attempt is in vain; your body feels electrified. If oral feels this good, how will he feel inside you? Will his cock ruin you?

With a whine, you push against his head, pleased when he parts from you. While it is not terrible, the overstimulation is a bit too much.

“You did well, my betrothed,” he coos.

“Stop talking,” you utter, narrowing your eyes.

Loki chuckles. He sets you back on your feet, wobbly at first, then leaves you by the bookcase to rest on the stargazer chair, knees wide apart, giving you a teasing glimpse at his cock. Even at a height that will make this easy, you can tell that it will still be intense. Your heart races as he motions with two fingers for you to join him, the two fingers you are certain were inside you moments ago.

Breathe. I can take him.

You stride in confidence toward the chair, straddling the Giant's waist. Comfortable, you lean against his chest, capturing his lips a third time as he readies you, an action you are thankful for, especially when the head of his cock catches at your entrance, threatening to penetrate you.

It happens slowly, to your relief. Your body tenses as Loki raises his hips, easing as much of himself into you as he can. It's a tight fit, but one that is not too unbearable. You take a deep breath, remaining as still as possible. To you, it feels like losing your virginity all over again; the careful steps, the nervous anticipation. It's comical.

Once you are ready, you set the pace, rocking your hips deliberately slow. The muscles beneath you tense, eager but at your mercy. You offer Loki some relief, bouncing your hips, but then spitefully like a selfish god, you take it away, returning to the same slow and torturous pace as before.

It isn't all fun for you either, to be honest. You want to be fucked hard, left numb and satisfied, but the desperate look on his face tempts you to continue. Another round of inconsistent teasing passes before all the power you have over Loki gets torn away. You should not have tempted the wolf.

Warm calloused hands seize your hips. Loki eases you down, filling you, then bounces you on his cock, raising his hips to intercept each thrust. You can hardly keep up with him. After a few seconds of trying, you give up, allowing him to use you however he wishes. The most you can do is stimulate your sex; the combined pleasure makes you melt. Wave after wave courses through your body, growing stronger. A thin sheen of sweat covers you as you desperately hang on. Whatever sanity you have left vanishes the moment you lose control of your ability.

Your size wanes, a head or two shorter than before. Honestly, you are not sure. All you can tell is that the cock inside you feels thicker. The lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the room and the image of your hole stretched to its limit are enough to push you over the edge. Arching your back, you come hard, lost in pleasure, body trembling. For a moment, you swear you lose all sense of where you are.

When reality sets in, your thighs and stomach are coated in release, from both you and Loki. The man beneath you grins, leaning your breathless form against him. Your walls feel bare and worn, throbbing in protest. You hum.

“That could have been bad,” you utter, referring to your slip-up.

“You'll have plenty of chances to get used to me,” Loki retorts.

If anything, he's humorous. Sitting up, you give him a serious look.

“I don't know what you’ll be getting out of this marriage, aside from the thrill of angering Mama, but I agreed only because you promised me freedom.”

Loki grins. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Have a little trust in me.”

If only you had known how much trouble in the future those words would get you. Perhaps you would have declined. Perhaps not.

[honeyhotteoks]

After that absolutely delicious ateez dom/switch/sub analysis, we need the separate Yunho dom analysis, please ♡ (no pressure)

no pressure as if i wasn’t kicking my feet excited to answer this the minute i saw your ask lol

okay once again, below the cut, lots of yunho dom analysis specifically around his kink list too though because there are reasons i added all of those and i figured it would also be fun to get into.

see this post here for the full ateez dom/switch/sub analysis and disclaimers that apply here too!

okay! so hopefully this all makes sense, but truly yunho is my ult and i’ve spent an insane amount of time headcanoning him for all the writing i’ve done, so please forgive how in depth this may get. i promise i’m not weird delulu i’m just a writer with a muse in this man.

general thoughts / evidence on yunho as a man with big dom potential:

natural leadership - yunho is a natural leader, and that’s been pointed out several times throughout the years in various pieces of content, though most recently in the fortune teller video. this is a role that i think he naturally gravitates towards, and leads me to believe that he is the type who will step up if there’s not a leader in the room, or will guide if someone needs guidance. i think he likes to feel appreciated and needed, but doesn’t necessarily need a bunch of fanfare or attention for doing so, which to me is such a quality in a good dominant. someone who wants to guide and lead his submissive, but doesn’t need everyone to know it.

his gaze - something you’ll notice if you watch yunho carefully is that when he needs the members to quiet down or when he’s trying to communicate something without words, all he needs to do is look in just the right way to get what he wants. most often you can see this with mingi and wooyoung when he levels them with a look and they either stop ‘misbehaving’ or fall apart into giggles. this is one of those things where i think you can see he’s kind of exuding masculine dominance without ever having to say anything or cause a fuss.

his propensity to tease - okay so he’s a joker, and a classic older brother, but that isn’t the thing that makes me think big dom potential. what does though is the ways he needles on a specific thing that riles someone up and just keeps applying pressure. mingi is a great example, if you watch the way he talks to him and calls him princess, particularly during his birthday live… that is the epitome of a dom. you can see other examples with other members, but you can also see it with atiny. in the live when he said he liked to hear atiny call him “yunho-yah” in a whining tone was pretty revealing. also since he’s become aware of the hotteok hand kink, he keeps playing up hand content. that is certainly something the company is doing to drive engagement, but to hear him tease about it on lives? the tone tells me knows he’s getting a flustered reaction and he enjoys it.

jealousy - this is a brief one, but he’s quietly jealous as fuck in a possessive way. just reference the live where he talks about his brother or the one good looking manager, you can see it underneath the teasing that he’s like okay no focus up. that’s someone who in a relationship would have to handle feelings of jealousy and could potentially channel that into a d/s relationship.

caretaking / gift giving / silent support - yunho naturally takes care of his members and staff, there’s a lot of stories about him getting up early to get coffee for people, being an ear during tough times, being thoughtful during holidays and birthdays, etc. and i just think in general that’s a quality that means he enjoys caring for his loved ones. in a d/s relationship, that’s such a key point of a good dom as they are trying to support and guide their submissive and ensure their needs are met.

pain tolerance - there’s a lot of clips where you can see yunho taking pain or discomfort and just eating it, and while i don’t think that implies he enjoys it, i do think that implies a certain level of control. that is a key quality in a good dom, especially in much harder scenes when they are supposed to be providing the guardrails, punishments, and safety nets.

emotional intelligence - i truly don’t think you can be a good dominant if you’re lacking in emotional intelligence and yunho has that in spades. i’m not saying that means he is a dom, but i am saying it ensures me he would do well at it or have the proper level of emotional intelligence for the role.

the kink list breakdown

rigging / shibari - he’s incredibly tactile and good with his hands, and after all those clips of him with the wire from imot and ropes from outlaw….. my thought is that yeah that’s promotion, but watch him move the ropes and cords. i think it comes naturally to him, but what’s more is that this is an ultimate form of control and dominance over a partner. i think he would excel at the slow preparation, the methodical nature of binding, the photography he could take of his sub tied up with different knots and colored ropes, and then the ability to control their pleasure or pain from there is something the rigging would allow.

edging / orgasm denial - another form of control. if he’s guiding his submissive through the experience of orgasm, then confirming their compliance by only letting them orgasm when he says is full control. i also think it plays into the idea of teasing, something that would leave his sub whining and begging.

pleasure / overstimulation - it’s the exact inverse of the above but the principles are the same. control, but also pushing his submissive’s limits.

praise - there is no way this man isn’t telling you how good you’re doing while you do it. yunho is ultimately a soft boy, a boyfriend boy, a husband boy, so no matter what hard kinks he has the potential to play with, i think praise and kindness is a huge hinge back to the relationship and the very real emotions underneath it all.

degradation - i personally think this would be done with a softer, teasing vibe. not meanly calling his submissive a slut, but more so from a corruption angle… something like …. “my fingers in your mouth get you this wet? listen to you whine, my good little slut” etc.

breeding and pregnancy - this one is a little self indulgent but that being said…….. my read on him as quite traditional hits this for me. yunho as a natural caregiver translates pretty heavily for me into yunho wanting to provide for his future partner, and he’s extremely close to his family and family oriented. if yunho wants children, i could see him loving the idea of intimacy that getting his partner pregnant would provide. and i think in general that could manifest in the idea appealing to him in general. i think also there’s possessiveness in this kink that could appeal to him - the idea that he claimed her body, that the changes visible in her body are something he did, etc.

impact play - his hands were made for spanking, next question… no but actually this one is something i want to call out. spanking hits control, punishment, aftercare but it also is something they some submissives need and helps ground them. pain in general can be like this, but as i think yunho would not be full blown into sadism, spanking would fulfill that need for them both.

restraints - again, another opportunity for control. we’ve touched on ropes, but i also think he would enjoy pinning a partner down, someone he can fantasize about being on the more submissive / innocent / corruptible side

free use - i mentioned in the original post this being an extension of the traditional idea. i just want to emphasize again, this is not in any way from a misogynistic angle whatsoever. what i’m talking about here is specifically an extension of his control, within this idea of possession and consumption. i could see yunho being the type of guy who would love to come home and just push his partner’s skirt up before dinner, or hop into the shower and just take his partner against the wall. i don’t think he would be into free use in the super extremes of this kink where his partner is like completely passive / truly available at EVERY moment, but some version of this i can see.

fingering - look at his hands, he’s going to make his partner squirt and he’s going to make his partner suck on his fingers and beg for it, next question.

oral - this man has an oral fixation. watch the way he touches his lips, the way he bites, the way his tongue is constantly present, how often he puts things IN his mouth? he’s absolutely going to be the type to just hold his partner down and eat her out for as long as she can take it.

omorashi - this one is a little off the wall but walk with me here. omo isn’t piss kink in the way that a lot of people might assume, it’s specifically about bladder control. this is one of those kinks that fall right in line with aspects of his dominance and personality so i’m saying if this hit for him, i’d believe it. the idea that he would control his partner’s ability to use the rest room to facilitate a scene, and then use that discomfort against them while he pleasures or edges them, verbally degrading and pushing his submissive to begging and pleading? yep. now some people with omo stop there and it’s all about the control, but if he took it a step further to actual bladder release i think you could imagine the way he’d comfort and praise his submissive through it. and once again, ultimate control.

corruption - listen…….. this catholic boy??? i will die on this hill. i think while yunho’s a good guy and wouldn’t actually care about things like body count or experience, especially with his person, i do think that he would lose his god damn marbles at the idea that his partner has only ever been with him or has only ever experienced certain acts with him. as a guiding presence, a caretaker, and a man with a jealous streak? this just makes sense. the idea that he’s the reason why you’re a begging crying mess for his cock? iconic. the idea that no one in the world knows what your body looks like but him? he’d quite literally cum and die.

breath play - hands. but also control, you get it.

somno - ultimate control but also it’s his submissive placing the ultimate level of trust in him and i think he would take it exceptionally seriously. it’s a responsibility more than anything to ensure that his partner is cared for and feels safe through that experience. also think this plays a bit into the corruption kink and when i mentioned in the previous post that he would enjoy being called daddy…… you put those dots together. (though to be perfectly clear i do NOT mean age play whatsoever)

cockwarming - i think this is something that’s actually quite comforting for some submissives so i see it as less of a kink and more of a sex act that he would engage in with his sub to be caring and tender and help ground them. similar to what spanking does, it helps ground some submissives and this is something he would want to provide. just picture his sub resting against his inner thigh, cock in mouth just resting on the tongue, yunho petting their hair and soothing them.

size kink / size training - i dont mean he wants a “small” or “thin” partner, i mean this from the corruption angle. he would enjoy slowly working his sub up to being able to take his cock comfortably in….. many….. different holes.

throat fucking - see above lmao

and good god could i talk about dom yunho and aftercare but that’s a whole other post lmk if anyone cares haha

[sidestepsam]

hey this is so random but idk if yk the nakay girl on tiktok but she’s met the team a good amount of times and she just posting a video kinda saying she doesn’t really believe in pazzi.

what’s your opinion on that? she’s quite young so idk hahaha

This is a good opportunity to share my thoughts on this.

It is true that they do a lot of things that female best friends do with each other. They’ve also always called each other best friend, etc. so I can understand why a lot of people, especially if they’re not deeply into the lore, may truly think they’re just BFFs. That being said, there’s a very big difference between being unsure/not caring and being a denier. I don’t have an issue with people not being convinced they’re together, if anything I respect it because they’re just waiting for hard evidence. I do, however, have issues with deniers for multiple reasons:

1. It usually comes from a place of heteronormativity and or homophobia.

There’s a lot of people that see being straight as a must have in the mold of the perfect role model and I believe that is applied to Paige especially. Straight men also think this way but from a different perspective. Rather than being worried about them being role models, they’re in denial that P and A aren’t for them. Azzi also gets it because she’s conventionally feminine and a lot of ignorant people think that to be gay as a woman you have to be masculine.

2. It comes from a place of wanting to come of as morally above others.

This is what I think that chick is doing. I’ve never liked her, I think she has a weird parasocial situation going on to the point that she’s developed a weird sense of ownership. This girl knows them just as much as the rest of us do. She’s only met them in public, organized events that of course would not have any outwardly Pazzi situation happening. Literally two videos after that one she’s in literal tears over the game. Of course we all felt it, but to actually cry and film it? Be fr.

Lastly, and sorry if this is rude, but A LOT of these people are literal children. Even some of you on here I can tell are kids/teenagers. That age group knows nothing about reading romantic social cues especially when there’s gay undertones involved. They’ve also never been in relationships. It’s the same reason why they make entire love edits out of P & A looking at each other for 2 seconds and caption it as the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

All I’m going to say is that if P or A did exactly what they do with each other with a dude, absolutely no one would question that that dude was their bf. So in conclusion, we will see in 3 months (hopefully) who gets the last laugh 😭💀

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy (prequel) ⭐️💫

jayce talis x f!reader, 4.4k words

content: the story of the day you met jayce talis two years ago...immediately after the worst moment of your life. (can be read as a one-shot, but is a prequel to my golden boy short series!)

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, f!receiving oral, m!receiving oral, swallowing, brief handjob (wtf is the tumble phrasing for this bruh), unprotected p in v, pulling out, bondage?? (with a tie, i got creative), sub!jayce/dom reader, lmk if I missed anything as always, not proofread...my head hurting girl

ps: golden boy is still my favorite thing I've written ever...I'm happy i got to revisit them and hopefully answer some of the questions people had. even sprinkled in some of their habits that i liked and you can tell that it started from their very first interaction...its messy and somewhat unrealistic but i do think they're insanely in love. I've heard it makes people insane CTFUUU. crazy how this started over a hextech vibrator too. wtf. - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

Living in the shadows wasn’t something you had to get accustomed to, but was rather born knowing. Life as a girl in the Undercity was unique but altogether riddled with the stench of an undeveloped community—as Piltover would say at least. You loved the stench. It was more than a foul smell—an always present layer of grime. Existing in the Lanes was to always have a film on you. Whether it be of the societal norms placed on you or the physical distinction between those living above you, you were in every way considered an other. 

So it stayed the same as you grew up. Unfortunately, though, there was always an intrigue that pulled you from your hiding. No matter how hard you tried to fight it something pulled you to Piltover—to him. 

It started innocently enough. You went on dates, got to know each other, and spent inexplicable amounts of time together. It would always end, though. 

“I’ll miss you.” 

You would smile back, searching for any indication of a lie. You never saw one. 

“Can’t I stay? Just-“ you huffed at the break in your voice. “Just this once? Please?” 

“It’s best you don’t.” A hand would find your face or arm and rub it reassuringly, “I couldn’t live knowing anything happened to you.” 

Lie. 

You wished you could’ve picked up on it—how truly deceitful this man you’d grown to love had been. 

Time passed like a whirlwind; you let yourself be swept up in the idea of a hidden romance, one that was for the two of you alone. You didn’t tell him but you would watch him sometimes, sneaking glimpses into the parts of his life you could never be part of. 

He was a known man—not on the council but a close acquaintance of the renowned families. It made sense, then, that he kept you tucked away. Its okay, you’d reason. The only way to stay safe is to stay hidden. After all, it was what you were born to do. 

This day was like any other, you slightly covered, hooded, and watching while the object of your adoration smiled in conversation. The difference came in the form of a woman you’d never seen, more importantly the newborn that lie between her hands. 

It didn’t take you long to figure out that he had another life—one that he so skillfully kept you unaware of. The prospect only made your interest pique—your mind wandering to how he could do this so well, to be this pathological. 

You didn’t confront him. In fact, you weren’t supposed to be here at all—in a sea of people waiting on an announcement. Today was progress day. You’d heard rumblings of there being a huge announcement coming to Piltover which admittedly you didn’t want to miss. Everyone had the same idea—to pack in and hear from this new scientist. 

You pushed and squeezed. You mumbled apologies and excuses to snake your way through the now suffocating crowd. It was futile, though. You were forced to stand and stare. 

Jayce Talis wasn’t unknown to you. You were an observer at heart, so you’d seen him around before. It was often that he was lingering, just in the background but doing nothing of significance to catch your attention—not when it was elsewhere. He looked comfortable, not with his speech but rather on stage. Jayce had the essence of a man who belonged in front of people—presenting on a day so great at this one. 

You heard of this new boy, this man who would propel both cities alike into an unimaginable future. Seeing him there, speaking with a fluidity that enticed you, you knew he had to be him. He had to be the golden boy of Piltover. 

Blinking your eyes, you darted them over to search for him. His stare had already been on you, his entire frame slouching in guilt. You had nothing left to offer him but you figured his wife and child were enough. You wouldn’t afford him the luxury of seeing you ever again—let alone touching you. 

The end of Jayce’s speech allowed you some relief, the crowd slowly dissipating as they dispersed. You avoided eye contact, squirming into the tight spaces between people having small talk. The breeze of the outside hit you—the door opening and closing in an irregular rhythm of people entering and exiting. You were almost there, out of his life for good. 

“Got somewhere to be?” 

You froze at the sound of a man talking to the side of you. You perked up a bit, attempting to disguise yourself as someone who should be here, belongs here. 

You cleared your throat, “I have to get home. Lots of work to do—progress day doesn’t stop…the progress.” Your face twisted at the awkward joke. 

The man chuckled anyways, teetering on his feet. He let his hands clasp behind his back—exposing the tightly bound buttons of his clothing. He wore crimson and white, hints of gold and black lingering at the hems. It suited him. 

“Did you enjoy my speech?” 

“It was nothing short of inspirational.” 

Your eyes stared into one another, daring the opposing pair to look away, and yet they didn’t. 

“I should be going,” you swallowed and turned to go, a quickness in your step. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t let you leave. “It’s raining,” he blurted out. “Is that all you have to get home?” He examined you, the lack of protective wear, and a small hood over your head. 

You glanced down at yourself, a crease in your brows. “Trust me, I’ll live.” 

A million things flashed through his mind, one of the first being how disappointed his mom would be to know that he let a woman walk alone in the rain. After this his mind lingered, though. He felt a chill at the recollection of your sharp features—the darkness there. He racked his brain further, cursing himself at how quickly he seemed to forget the intricacies of your face already.

You were almost gone. 

“Wait!” 

You heard him call behind you, a low hum of surprise escaping you. 

“I have an umbrella, I can walk you.” 

“That’s very sweet of you,” you continued to move, “But I’m good—great!”

You wanted the emphasis to say leave me alone but it screamed at him to continue, matching your hurried steps away from the building. He didn’t speak, but moved closer and let his frame tower over you. You looked up at the sudden lack of rain pelting you, finding solace in the small shelter. 

“Jayce, you’re getting yourself wet.”

He perked up at the sound of his name on your lips, secretly languishing in the sweetness. He almost forgot to acknowledge you, but settled on a shrug. 

“As long as you get home unscathed.” He continued to walk, a step for your every two. You noticed how much longer his legs were than yours, twisting your lips at that. “Speaking of,” he spoke again, “Where are we headed?” 

You paused, only just now realizing you were walking toward the outskirts of the city. 

“I’m-“ You looked around, searching for an excuse. When one didn’t find you, you gave up. You offered him a slump in your shoulders and a following shrug, “I’m not from Piltover.” 

“I know.” Jayce turned to resume his stride, slightly splashing into puddles on the ground. 

“You know?” 

“Mhm.” 

“How?” 

Without missing a beat he kept his eyes forward and pinpointed the error. “Your shoes.” 

You looked down, eyes meeting your worn footwear. “I see.” 

He nodded like it was the most simple thing—like there wasn’t such distance between you already. It made you look away, arms folding in on you as you huffed to yourself. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” It was too quick. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to it—always have been.” 

He was reading you, with a skill that came as second nature to him. Your body language, the falter in your face, the slow in your step—he noticed it. 

“You shouldn’t be.” He gripped the umbrella, “You shouldn’t be used to it. I’m sorry.” 

He looked down at you with a sincerity—you hoped it was true. You simply nodded, letting your feet lead him to your home.

“Thank you. This was nice of you…considerate.” You paused again, thinking better of continuing, but you had to. “You should come in.” 

“Really?” 

“It’s raining.” You stated plainly, like your reasoning was obvious. 

“It is.” He matched your monotone. 

A deep inhale resonated between you, “You can’t walk back in this weather. Besides,” you finally pushed your door open, “the least I can do is offer you somewhere to wait this out.” 

He surveyed you, the way you kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly by the door. He did the same, smiling softly at the action; his mom never let him walk around with dirty shoes on either. 

The effortless way you moved proved how long you’d lived here—how you could grab for something without looking or push in a piece of furniture with your hips. It was comfortable, it was home. 

“I can hang your clothes for you if you like.” 

You interrupted his thoughts, a pile of clothes in hand for him to swap into. 

“Thank you…” He paused, kicking himself. “I don’t actually know your name-“ 

You interrupted him, offering your name, letting it roll off of your lips in a way that he enjoyed more than he expected. He repeated it, too, training himself to enjoy the melody—the way it lingered there.

He moved then, pushing his now dripping blazer off of his shoulders. You swallowed, looking down at the now drenched white of his clothing clinging to his skin. His shirt was the most restrictive, settled beneath his waistcoat and attached to it from the moisture of the rain. 

He noticed your focus wandering across him. He moved slowly, loosening the buttons around his torso first, then the tie on his neck. “Hope I’m not too much of an intrusion-“ 

“Absolutely not, no.” You shook your head, “I surprisingly enjoy the company.” 

“Well,” he undoes the buttons on his wrists, “It helps to be in good company, I guess.” 

You nodded, reluctantly peeling your eyes away from him to head for the nearby kitchen. Water, you thought. Gosh your mouth had gotten so dry. 

In the second it’d taken you to grab and fill a glass, Jayce had stripped majority of his clothing. 

He spoke quickly, slightly frightened by your shocked look. “I’m sorry, I figured I shouldn’t leave a trail of my wetness all over the floors…better if there’s just one puddle, right?” 

“Right,” you blinked at him, “I’ll uh-“ You motioned behind you, a thumb waving at nothing in particular. “I’ll grab the mop.” 

Approaching him felt daunting. In the moments you saw him around you wouldn’t have assumed this quiet man was hiding beneath fabric. There was a sheer magnitude to him that even left his muscles to flex with little effort. You observed the movement of his body with every breath. 

He reached out to you, motioning to grab the mop and clean the mess he’d made. You weren’t paying attention, more focused on the way his arms looked so powerful. You completely missed him pulling the mop stick toward his own chest, and you with it. He moved with such ease, gliding you through the puddle of water, maneuvering you like it was the most minuscule thing to do so. You didn’t let go of the mop when he thought you would, and he internally thanked himself at that. Jayce was able to look at you again finally; he observed your features intently. 

Suddenly a tingle shot up and down your left side, as if it were hitting your heart and exploding outward. You could tell he felt it, whatever it was. 

The feeling brewing between you was begging to be explore…bubbling like a kettle settled on a stove. It was as if the metaphorical boiling tea started to whistle then, a high-pitched screech in your ear drums telling you to just go for it. 

Jayce was more of a coffee person, relishing in the wafting scent of the thick drink. He couldn’t go a day without it…and it seemed the same was true about his desire for you. 

You hadn’t noticed how your breath had become short as it met his chest, completely bare against your own. Jayce watched you look down, taking in the sight of him.

He gulped and discarded the mop beside him. His hands grasped yours—replacing the mop handle. Your cluster of hands remained between you, an invisible rope forcing you to stay together. 

Jayce continued with a croak, dipping his head to meet your eyes, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” you replied with a shy smile. 

His brow arched as he dipped down more, silently questioning if this was okay. When you met his slow movement in, he internally rejoiced. 

You’d kissed people before, but this was an entirely new sensation. The man in front of you was intentional. He moved slow and showed an attention that you didn’t know was missing. 

You’d gasp, overwhelmed by the gentle pressure of him. He’d make it his mission to capture that sound in his mouth, working over you to create the sound again. The rhythm in his ears of your low groans was one he could live off of—the only thing he needed for the rest of his existence. It was inexplicable the way he need to do this for you, to be good to you, to show you that you deserved only great things. 

You saw that in him—and it immediately made you want to repay him. It wasn’t often that you would first sink down to your knees in front of a man, ready and willing to have all of him…but this was different—confusing. 

You let out an exaggerated pop as you pulled away from Jayce’s mouth, licking over your own. His skin burned as you let a hand trail his chest, lingering as you found your way in front of his belt buckle. With a single hand you let him free of the confines of his pants. A second hadn’t passed before your hand latched onto him, smearing the wetness on the tip of him down his entire length. You watched him as you did, loving the choking sounds escaping his throat. 

“I-“ He gasped, writhing a bit, “I’ve never done this.” 

You arched your brow, confusion clearly covering the entirety of your face. “Never?” 

He shook his head in a tight declaration, hardly visible had you not been looking so closely. “Not after just meeting, I mean.”

“Do you want to?” 

You offered him an out, acknowledging how intense this must be. You’d just met him—and you knew how it felt. You understood the intricacies of always being connected in that way—feeling tethered to someone despite how little you seemed to know them. He had been that for you…before the wife and child. 

Jayce didn’t want an out. In fact his face almost mixed with something of bewilderment—that he’d ever deny you. He let that feeling spring him into action, pulling you back up to your feet. Despite that sudden motion, he seemed lost…as if he didn’t know what to do from here. 

“Where do you want me?” You spoke softly, hands nestled behind your back. He watched your eyelashes bat at him, the way they were intentionally spurring him on. 

You observed the way he remained in a shell—reacting to even the smallest of motions by you. His blinks were slow. His shoulders straightened, his posture stiffening. His breath even hitched at the way your chest rose slightly, a bit higher with your hands behind your back. 

Letting your voice lower and your head tilt, you looked him up and down slowly. “Where would you like me, Jayce?” You repeated it, keeping eye contact with him. Finally, you started to strip, removing all of your clothing. You backed up as you did so...legs eventually hitting the couch near the side of the room. 

He stayed stuck in place as he watched you. Jayce was entirely focused on your frame, how much more beautiful you looked than he could’ve imagine in his own mind. His knuckles paled, fists pressing in on themselves. You sat down into the couch cushions, then, not hesitating as you let your hands sink down to play with yourself. 

“Should I,” you hissed as you already felt yourself pulse around nothing. “Would you like to contribute or should I do this myself?” 

There wasn’t a sound in the room beyond the slick of you and the abrupt strides Jayce made across the room. The ran pattered to offset his movement. He was eager, immediately settling on the floor in front of you. 

The roles had reversed so fast. 

He pulled your hips slightly, earning a yelp from you, even more so when he immediately latched his lips onto your clit. It went on like that for a while until he flattened his tongue on you, moving up and down slowly. His nose pressed just beside your clit, a sensitive spot you didn’t know you had. 

It was his turn to look up at you and the way your head fell back. 

The air got stuck in your throat as you moved to grip his hair. The tug didn’t stop him, only motivated him more. The thought that his tongue alone could bring such aggressive reactions from you was the reward he needed. He clawed at your thighs, the softness there a grounding sensation so different from the sting as his scalp. 

He hummed into you, letting the vibration add to the feel of him on you. 

“F-fuck…” your voice dragged, stuttering over itself at that. You gulped as he did it again, a hand letting go of his head to wipe over your own—your palm hitting your face in surprise. 

He made a mental note at that, smiling briefly into you before pulling away. 

You looked around the room, mind spiraling at how he’d worked you up so well. Your sight settled on the clothes on the floor, his discarded tie in particular. You nudged Jayce, planting a soft kiss to his temple and moving him to lean back into the couch. He smiled to himself, at the fondness of such an action. 

He let himself be immersed in that feeling. You let the distraction work in your favor as the tie found its way around his wrists. You left some slack so he could be attached to the makeshift bars on your window. They sat just above your couch, a much needed addition to combat the weather and occasional rogue projectiles that seemed to make their way into fights. The Undercity was undeniably rough but it was home. The metal over your glass reminded you of that, how the path to something so amazing remained guarded at all times. 

The last bit of fabric rested in your hands as you moved to straddle Jayce, a strained hiss resounding from you at the sheer thickness of his thighs. You lifted yourself a bit before sliding over the back of him, not letting him into you just yet. You rutted over his tip, letting it swirl between your folds. He could only breathe into you as you raised his hands—relinquishing any control he had. 

You continued up and down him, pressing his wrists above his own head. He felt around, his fingers curling around the lowest horizontal bar. Jayce used it for stability but also as an outlet simultaneously. His grip was firm at the restriction. His arms were unable to move now that you’d tied a knot behind him—the realization only riled him up more. He was sensitive—he couldn’t take much more. 

You slid your hands on his shoulder, finally leveling yourself just above him. In a slow movement—eyes locked with him—you sunk onto him about an inch. Only letting in the head of his length was torture, an insatiable need only partially fulfilled. It was worth it, though. The lack of him was driving the man just as crazy, if not more so. Observing the pinch of his brows and the slack of his jaw, low whimpers now escaping him, was enough to make you hold out a bit longer. 

You smoothed a finger over the scar below his brow, an attempt to relieve the tension in him. “Be good,” you slid up and back down onto him. “Keep your hands there, okay?” 

His nods were fervent, his grasp holding tighter into the pole above him. 

Jayce’s words came out sort of erratic, an urgency you didn’t expect. “Please…just please,” he didn’t continue the thought—overwhelmed by you sliding down another inch onto him. “I just want to be in you…feel you.” 

That was enough for you. 

Inch by inch, you slowly sat into him. The mix of both your whines were almost drowned out by the rain; it was even louder now, the wind gusts swirling into a frenzy of sound. It didn’t compare, though. Not to the two of you completely wrapped in each other. 

You leaned down, letting your lips fall into the crook of his neck and his onto your chest. He sucked down with all he could, it being the only way he could touch you now. You leaned back at that, squeals escaping you as you writhed into him quicker now. Your chest reddened, the burst of heat traveling up your neck. He took advantage of your nipples in his face, alternating between both as he saw fit—only letting them go when he glanced up at you, how stunning you looked. 

There was a sheen of sweat on you now. You were feeling him everywhere, mostly just between your thighs where his girth filled you so much it burned. Despite this he was still long, hitting your guts with every motion into his lap. You were getting tired; the flapping of you onto his thighs became even more lewd, the space underneath you dripping in wetness from him and you. 

You could feel his stares on you but settled for keeping attention on his hands, the way they struggled to stay on the bar. You let your hands meet his, ignoring the tingle that sent through your own, and wrapped it around his own. Your hands were interlocked, keeping him on the metal. 

Your words slurred at him piercing into your groin over and over, that spongey spot feeling completely weak now. “C-close…are you?” 

“Almost,” his voiced bobbed. “Can’t go much longer—fuck.” 

The heat in you rose quickly at the weakened tone of his voice, the pure lack of control. Within a few more circles into him you were finishing, hand moving to your own clit to drag it out.

Jayce looked between you, the mess you made. He gasped at your hands soaked on yourself, applauding his own work—he was proud to serve you this way. You could use him, he didn’t care. Couldn’t care less, even. 

“Shit—“ a hiccup from Jayce, “Can’t—“ 

Reluctantly you slipped off of him, a whine filling the room. It didn’t last long, though. 

Suddenly your head was in his lap, bobbing up and down his length as you kept rubbing yourself. He heard your cries, muffled by the sound of your mouth wrapped around him. Your free hand pressed into his balls, urging him to let go. You hummed, too, letting the vibration touch his tip as it grazed the back of your throat. 

His hips snapped up into you, ropes shooting into your mouth and down your throat before you could even process. It didn’t afford you the time to taste him, really, but you’d assume it was sweet. Like him. 

Your legs shook beneath you as your hands slipped away. Letting yourself fall back, you surveyed your work—the consistent lingering pulse inside your walls and the way Jayce remained motionless. Your chest heaved, matching the way his rose and fell. 

Your eyes fell closed, allowing you to sit in the feeling of bliss within you now. On the floor, you started to drift—only cognizant of the warmth on you. 

The faint sparkle of the Sun began to shine onto your face and stirred you from sleep. Immediately grimacing, you looked over to the man beside you. He sat on the couch, not moving you from your spot but covering you snugly on the floor with a few of your blankets, a pillow under your head. 

Craning your neck back allowed you to see the puddle gone, too, his clothes hanging on your laundry line. 

“Hi.” He smiled, already awake and observing your every move. 

You didn’t reply but instead felt something brewing in you, disgust was the closest thing to come to mind. Disgust at how quickly you’d turned this around. The same day you found out—heart completely shattered by something you thought was real—you let yourself be with a man you hardly knew. It stood to reason then that this wasn’t and could never be real. Not when you so quickly fell into it. Not when you tainted any opportunity you had at building toward something healthy. 

You hated yourself, even more so that you could see a future with Jayce. The thought of him was so close, yet out of reach when you fully considered. You couldn’t do this, shouldn’t really. 

“You should go.”

Jayce moved to counter, to speak and question you. 

“Don’t come here anymore.” It sounded harsh. You didn’t mean for it to be. “Just…I’ll come to you, okay?” You nodded, assuring yourself that this was the right way to go—the way to be with him. “You can’t come back here, never again.” 

He moved slowly, clearly stunned by your abruptness. The motions with which he pulled his own clothes off of their hanging positions and onto his body was methodical. Jayce was a machine—working step by step and assembling pieces to get a final result. It was true, though, that he’d never be whole. He wouldn’t be himself again without you beside him and couldn’t explain why that was. 

He didn’t know you. 

He wanted to. 

He kneeled down as you sat up, slowly gliding his hand  into yours. He let his fingers rub over your skin; he fought to reassure you. 

The knot in your throat made you swallow and pull away.

There weren’t any words exchanged between you. You felt bad, but not enough to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach. Jayce looked at you with a clear hurt, like he’d been physically torn apart. 

He huffed at that and simply asked, “When can I see you again?” 

part one

[ganondoodle]

(new totk rewritten - super rough concept)

so this was a super rough sketch for retrieving the enigma stone of the zora- im currently redoing it since im not happy with this one-

but i have run into a bit of a problem; see the reason why theres monsters causing trouble everywhere is bc ganondorf is trying to keep the stones out of raurus hand(s) thus creating all those bosses to hopefully stop link from reaching them, or at least to slow you down BUT i cant seem to decide whether it makes more sense if the whole reason they are split up among the other regions is because the ancient .. 'sages' wanted to ALSO keep them away from rauru, or if they were instructed by him to do this and await his return (which would be a good reason why they are wearing that sonau helmet still .. if they werent completely in on it i doubt they would do it lol)

(the thought being, would rauru be more likely to not give the stones away at all or he was too afraid that gan could wake up earlier/break free and get his hands on them first- so he sends his trusty servants- sages out to construct big temples and await his return but to stop gan if he were to seek them out first ... also possibly so all the stones arent in one spot, since they, in my rewrite, are the highest concentrated version of spirit energy and would emit an extreme amount of energy likely to attract something... yeha its all based on luminous stoens containting spirit energy and that also powering the shiekah tech .. made a diagram (?) about it once actually, though some parts arent true anymore bc im omitting the whole dragon transform stuff)

(im also using this concept for the skyward sword comic btw, the mining of the timeshift stones being the reason the lanayru region becomes a desert bc the lands been robbed of life energy meant to go back into the system over time edit: i mean this as in an environment was drastically altered from its natural state in an extremely short amount of time, which is generally a bad thing, not as in desert areas just being dead sand filled wastelands, theres plenty of life there if meant to be like that/given long enough time to adjust or turn into it)

while i want to make rauru a villain i also dont want him to be too overtly evil since ... thats kinda boring and just pushes that role onto someone else, im aiming for more nuance overall (which is also why gan isnt some goody two shoes perfectly fine with hyrule, like yeah .. the calamity was his doing still)- so im leaning more towards the latter- though perhaps the gerudo did so more with the intent to keep it away from rauru

(also, i am including mineru after all.. but only as a mummy like so (sorry) but her stone is gone when you reach it bc its been taken by the yiga- for which you have to tract them down and fight koga (and possibly supah/sooga) )

[wordpress-blaze-107796391]

LIVE SHOW: May 18th at Cork at the Park

Come hang out with us at Cork at the Park to watch the White Sox play the Cubs on Sunday May 18th. We'll be doing a live show pre-game, we'll have some prizes, there will be drink specials and we'll be watching the game.

Date: May 18th Time: 12:00pm Place: Cork at the Park on 33rd and Princeton

Source: LIVE SHOW: May 18th at Cork at the Park

[obsessednothing]

Our love

George Russell x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff and love

A/N: amount of posts I read about George after the Qatar GP made me write this short fic. Also I feel lonely today, so this idea was easy to write. I don’t want to stir any discussion about what Max or George did or said, it’s just pure fantasy of mine and I felt the urge to write it down.

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

My peaceful sleep was disturbed by sudden sound of clinking of keys in the entrance door of the apartment. Humming a little, I tried to fall asleep again, not caring about who just entered the flat. From what I heard from hallway I understood that he’s home already, which was strange, he wasn’t meant to be home for another week. Getting my feet from the bed, I padded through the doorway of the bedroom, tiptoeing through the hallway, only to find George sitting slumped against the couch in our living room, scrolling through the phone, his face tired.

“Baby, you’re home.” My voice forced his eyes to meet mine. That mesmerising blue was full of sadness and.. regret? With a hum, he averted his gaze back to the screen of his phone and I knew something happened. Actually I knew that pretty well, because I read some posts on the instagram same as the comments even though I promised to myself to not do it. Slowly, I walked towards him, taking a seat beside him on the couch and he immediately leaned with his face into my shoulder, putting his phone aside, his nose gently brushing the material of my pyjamas.

“You smell like home, love..” his whisper made my heart flutter with joy, but at the same time made my stomach tight, because of the deep pain in his voice. Trailing my fingers through his hair, I heard his soft purr, his body relaxing under my touch.

“Tell me, what’s troubling you, George.” Even though I knew, I wanted to hear it from him, he needed to talk about it, to get it out of his mind.

“I acted like a child.. I was under pressure, nearly having that pole position, so I had to try to raise objection to have Max investigated, because he was driving too slow. Everybody is doing what they must in our field, it felt right, he got the penalty and I got the pole, but he’s now mad at me, saying that I’m fake person, who’s acting sweet in front of the cameras but behind the closed doors I’m a jerk.. as much as I’m trying to deny it, he’s maybe right.” His talking was fast, how much he tried to say everything he had in mind.

With frown on my face, I cupped his cheeks gently, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I understand, what pressure is on you, especially after Vegas. No, especially after that loss in Belgium.. you’re putting yourself under immense stress, and sometimes you unfortunately do something that doesn’t make sense, to make things right for you. You’re a great person, George, kind, sweet, caring, loving.. oh, I could write a love song about you and that wouldn’t be enough, but.. you’re also determined, ready to risk all, calculating, cocky.. sometimes we don’t do so good things, but that’s life. And the F1 life, oh god, there’s shitty persons everywhere, waiting for stabbing you in your back.”

Listening to my words, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders not so tight, frown on his face disappearing, replaced by smile. “I knew that it was a good idea to come back home.”

“You’re also very surprising, I didn’t even think about you getting home, even for a while, but that just means you love our home. Our safe space.”

“Main and only reason why I love our home is that I love you.”

Confession that I would like to hear everyday for the rest of my life (and I hopefully would). Every single one of his affectionate sentences was said with breathless clarity, like a warm breeze in summer, caressing my cheeks.

My lips curled in wide smile, eyes gleaming with love and joy, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks, still holding his gaze.

“I believe in you. Everybody can say anything they think. But nobody knows that heart of yours. I know. And it’s more than a social media, than brilliant poses in the magazines, than millions of interviews, smiling into camera like you have no emotions. Maybe there are some actions I don’t like you doing, but still I’m proud of you.”

He was just watching me, letting every single word sink into his mind. After a moment of silence, he reached for me, grabbing me by the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his gaze flicking at my lips, claiming them in sweet kiss. Oh god, how I loved his soft and hot lips.

Parting slowly, he looked into my eyes deeply, whispering, his breath mingling with mine. “I love, love, love, you, my darling..”

Caressing his hair, I chuckled, resting my forehead against his. “There are no other words that can describe how utterly and deeply I love you, George.”

“I would give you the world if I could.” He cocked his head a little with small frown.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I let out a soft laugh. “You already did.”

“How so?” He narrowed his eyes with quirked brow and smile.

Leaning closer to his lips again, swimming in the blue colour of his eyes, I whispered. “It’s you. You’re my whole world.”

And with that, we happened to take a hot bath, laughing and talking to the late hours of night, enjoying our closeness, because our safe space was more than anything that existed outside our home. Our love.

[teenidlegirl]

Ɛ⠀⠀BEAUTY OF THIS MESS⠀⠀ .⠀۟⠀۪⠀ು⠀⠀CHAPTER O5⠀⠀Ȝ

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀SUMMARY⠀♡⠀the bond between you and miguel grows a little more as you two continue hanging out together. however, things from the past come back unexpectedly.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀CONTENT⠀♡⠀fluff, angst, pet names, swearing, backstories (since it’s an AU, george o'hara is a good step-dad), brief mention of divorce, mentions of cheating, hint of a crossover

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

getting off work early today was a surprise.

it was a quiet day at the office, not much interesting stories to cover which was very rare in new york. but what surprise you the most is jameson telling you can go home early today. probably the most generous thing he has ever done.

you didn’t question why or hesitate to leave, it was basically a blessing in disguise.

pulling up in the parking garage and parking in your designated spot, your eyes detect a familiar broad figure across the lot. they light up ever so slightly, a your lips subconsciously raised up in a tiny smile.

why not say hi to him? just super quick.

grabbing your purse and exiting your car, you make your way over to him. miguel is kneeling beside his bike, cleaning it with a black rag.

sensing someone approaching, miguel ups look and immediately smiles when he sees you. he worried it would’ve been that annoying neighbor jason from the 6th floor bugging about buying his bike. miguel would never, it’s his precious baby. a huge wave of relief hits him when he realizes it’s you.

he’s glad that it’s you.

miguel quickly takes out his earphones, the wires dangling over the collar of his shirt since he tucked them inside his shirt, and stands up, towering you.

“hey. how was work?” he asks while cleaning his hands with a different, clean rag.

“for once, great. i got off early.”

“that’s good.”

“yeah, it’s just strange because my boss never lets anyone off early but i’ll take it.” you chuckle softly.

“where do you work at again?” miguel recalls you’re a journalist back at the bar with your friends but can’t remember which company you work for.

“the daily bugle.”

“oh, now i see why it’s strange.” miguel chuckles, aware of the company’s, and jameson’s, reputation. “how long have you been writing for him?”

“three years and hopefully more to come.”

miguel smiles softly at your enthusiasm, how hopeful you seem for your future. the sight makes his heart warm. he hopes for more years to come as well.

“so, how long have you had this pretty thing?” you nod your head at his bike.

“7 years, it was birthday present to myself.”

you hum. “my dad used to own a red one.”

“really?” his brows raised up amusingly.

“yeah, it was his first baby but unfortunately had to sell it since he became a dad.”

“must’ve been hard but had to make the sacrifice.”

“he still misses it to this day. he still loves it more than his own damn kids.” you joke.

miguel chuckles at that. “it was a tough sacrifice.” he indulges in your joke. arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging through his shirt.

“it was.” you laugh. “he’s a big motorcycle fanatic, i think you two would get along well.” a tiny smirk plastered on your lips, arms crossed as well.

for some reason, the idea of meeting your dad seems amusing to him. miguel is curious to know your dad’s preferences and opinions. it would be nice to talk to someone with a similar interest. his buddies in the military aren’t the biggest fanatics nor owned bikes themselves but still managed to talk about them.

“i think so too, looking forward to it.” he mirrors your smirk, mimicking each other’s stance.

the amount of times this man has been able to make your heart flutter is insane yet you adore it.

“is your dad a motorcycle fanatic too?”

you watch his smirk falter a little. the amused expression turns into a solemn one. you recognize it from your last encounter. you notice that whenever you ask or mention his family.

“no, he isn’t.” miguel said solemnly. “he’s more into money and control.” he watches your brows furrowed, a sign for him to elaborate. “he’s a ceo.”

you hum lightly, acknowledging the given information. “which company?”

“the most famous company, alchemax.”

your brows raise in astonishment. “wow. well, he definitely is into money and control.”

you’re aware of alchemax’s reputation, one of the most successful companies in the country. the fact your neighbor is the son of the ceo amazes you. it was something you weren’t expecting.

miguel briefly smiles at your amusement before turning away, tossing the used rag in a small container then grabs the other he was using previously. “we were never close.” he crouches next to his bike and begins cleaning. “my step-dad is more of a fanatic.”

now it makes sense, his parents are divorced. you can’t help but feel sympathy for miguel.

“he owned a harley. i never liked harleys, i was more into yamaha and ducati.” miguel elaborates while cleaning his bike with the rug. “he taught me how to ride, how to clean, gave some tips and tricks.”

flashbacks of those days, george teaching a young miguel about motorcycles in the garage. iron maiden blasting through the stereo george had in the garage as he and miguel endorsed in father-son bonding. sometimes gabriel would join them, learning some information about motorcycles but never grew interested in them like his older brother.

those memories makes miguel smile, ever so slightly.

you remain silent, attentive to every word he says. you yourself imagine a little miguel learning about motorcycles with his step-dad. the domestic thought makes you smile as well.

“he taught me how to do my first wheelie, right in our neighborhood. my mom saw it and she was furious.” he softly chuckles at the silly memory.

you laugh as well. “did you get your ass whooped?”

“no, thankfully.” miguel chuckles. “she said i couldn’t do it again and gave my step-dad shit for teaching me. she was more worried than angry.”

“i don’t blame her.” you snort. “wheelies aren’t safe, especially doing it as a kid.”

he chuckles at your retorting words. “it isn’t a good childhood without busting your ass.”

“alright, fair point.”

you and miguel continue chitchatting when he cleans his bike. you’re in a middle of a sentence when your phone suddenly rings. grabbing it from inside your purse, your face drops at the number on the screen.

you recognize that number immediately.

the one phone number you deleted two years ago.

never thought you’d ever see it again.

your blood sudden goes cold as you stare at the number. phone vibrating in your hand as the ringtone echos through out the parking garage.

it can’t be… there’s no fucking way.

he swore to leave you alone…

he swore to never call you again. well… you demanded him to never call you again, delete your number just like you did with his. you were there when he deleted it, to make he did.

but… he kept it?… these two past years?

that lying, selfish son of a bitch.

the other option would be him redialing by memory.

miguel noticed the sudden silence from you, turning around to see your mortified expression staring at your phone. his brows furrowed. “everything okay?”

his voice makes you snap out of it, quickly blinking away the nasty feeling in your chest. “yeah, it’s fine.” quickly tapping the decline button, you shove your phone back in your purse as if nothing happened.

miguel’s brows furrowed more, confused by your sudden change in behavior. you seemed so mortified, it worried him. whoever that called you, you definitely did not want to answer. as if you were getting a phone call from a serial killer.

miguel did not like seeing you so terrified.

he wants to know who was calling you. should’ve taken a glance at the number so he could dial them himself. if it got you scared like that, miguel wouldn’t hesitate to track the caller ID. being part of the military includes hacking skills.

“are you sure? you seemed scared.” hint of concern laced in his tone.

“no, i’m fine.” you lie, shaking your head. “it was just a scam call, that’s all.” a fake smile painted on your face, concealing your freaking out state.

even if you sound genuine, miguel knows you’re lying. you didn’t stare mortified at your phone for a scam call. his concern level rises even more.

he’s about to ask again but you start walking away.

“luna’s waiting for me, see ya.” you flash him a half-hearted smile before rushing away, entering the apartment building, ignoring miguel calling after you but you keep going, never looking back.

a confused, worried miguel left in the parking garage. he wants to chase after you. he was literally packing away his stuff until he noticed you were long gone, completely out of his sight. vanished into the air like a ghost. his brows only furrowed more.

who the hell called you?

why did you seemed so terrified to answer?

it bothers miguel so much. an uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest. unable to feel relief until those questions are answered.

miguel desperately wants to head over to your apartment. but he figures you wish to be alone, left unbothered. the last thing he wants is to pry. it seems personal and miguel wants to respect that.

but that doesn’t stop the unease sensation bubbling inside him, consuming his body.

with a sad sigh, he finishes packing up and leaves.

it’s been four days since that asshole called you.

you were scared he would call back but thankfully he didn’t. that fucker hurt you, why the fuck would he try to reconnect with you?

two years later? no mames güey.

work has been a distraction but also busy. jameson on everyone’s ass like always. one day you had to pick up eddie after his car broke down. he spilled the beans about him and anne have been talking. two old friends reconnecting in a slow process. it’s a great start for them, you wish them well.

after working endlessly, it’s your day off which means relaxing time. you take luna out on a walk around your block. it’s perfect weather for a nice walk out. rays of sunshine casting down on you from the vibrant sun, relishing the warmth. the sky cleared from clouds, only the gorgeous blue atmosphere.

the sunlight makes luna’s fur glow. a white fluff ball wandering around. her adorable little pink bows and matching leash. yes, you’re that type of pet owner who dresses up and stylize their pets. she’s your baby, you dress her up however you like.

as you’re heading back to your apartment building, a figure slowly approaches you.

you smell it… you smell him.

you know his signature scent from miles and miles away. that fucking cologne you adored. the intoxicating scent consuming your senses.

looking forward, your heart fucking drops.

no no no… it can’t be.

he can’t be here.

that son of a bitch who broke your heart. betrayed you with his disgusting behavior and lies. who pathetically begged you to not leave, said he needed you and couldn’t live without you.

why did he need you when he was fucking another woman? in your shared bed, not to mention.

you never forgot that night.

two years later, it still haunts you sometimes.

your blood suddenly goes cold, just like when you got that phone call the other day. his phone call.

clad in a basic black shirt and jeans. an outfit you loved seeing him wear. the asshole knew what he was doing. dressed up like that running back to you.

the asshole who hurt you.

joel fucking miller.

𓈒 ࣪ ᠀⠀⠀𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀⠀♡⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[bwobgames]

Alright no more mushy feely heart-palpitating homosexual behavior.

There’s a cat on the loose.

He decides to go do a deeper check on the wagons, perhaps his little furball fell asleep somewhere!

At the entrance he sees some things that have fallen over and a slight amount of orange cat hair. Mighty suspicious.

He quickly rearranges the forgotten napkins and continues.

He smells something.

There’s an empty glass on one of the tables, it has an interesting smell. He can’t quite place it but he’s sure he knows that smell. Maybe from another case...?

There’s no liquid left, so he can’t test-taste it. Bummer. But it is a very faint smell...

The one time his heightened senses are useful, and he can’t remember.

Although he has a vague idea.

Hopefully it’s nothing bad. Hopefully nothing bad happened. Hopefully.

(...The feeling that something bad is going to happen...)

(No, no. No more horror movie quotes. This is not the time to make myself spooked for no reason)

Even if the oppressive feeling of the dark makes him feel otherwise.

He has dealt well with this. If he can’t see anyone, they can’t see him either. Darkness is a friend.

Except when Vivi is at home, then he leaves at the nightlights and the TV on, no matter the electricity bill.

Now that he things about it, this train would be a fantastic set for a horror movie, perhaps Nadia could-WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

DID YOU SEE THAT SHIT?! WHAT WAS THAT?!

(…Am I… seeing things…?)

(No, no! No more of this! I am a professional! Not a scared bunny who will call Ángel at the slightest spooky trick of the light!)

(I am a man on a mission. An expert on both the natural and supernatural. I should be fearless by now!)

(No ghost, or man, or ghost man has been able to defeat me, and this will not be the day it does!)

He marches to the dinner wagon

"I! AM NOT! SCARED! I! AM NOT A-!"

He finds yet another small mess made by Firefox that he ignored last time for the bigger mess, but looking at it closely he sees…

A photograph?

Must be Vivi’s, unless any of the new guys are into analog cameras.

It’s blurry, by the colour palette it might be a picture from inside this train. Except for one little detail.

In between the blurriness, he sees a small bit of blue. A shade he has seen before.

…

He should ask Vivi tomorrow.

He arrives at his room, maybe Mozilla came back on his own?

But it’s just as empty as he left it, plus the signs of Ángel getting dressed.

As he leaves, he notices a few things.

His door feels… like it didn’t close properly. Could it be faulty? But it closed just fine before?

Secondly, it seems other doors are open too.

Nina and Mari’s room is slightly open, the lights are off. Are they just sleeping with the door opened?

Their new friends’ doors are slightly open as well. Odd, maybe Seba still hasn’t come back?

He won’t open them, of course. That’d be rude and creepy. Creppy, even.

What he does do is a slight pspspsps noise, to see if Firefox is inside any door.

He’s pretty sure he hears some sort of movement in the bathrooms when a familiar face comes over to him.

“Detective! Detective!”

“There’s a murderer on the train!”

<PREV START NEXT>

[everlastingephemera]

the monkey-sphere | Spencer Reid

— or the one where the ephemeral comfort of alcohol cannot possibly silence your demons the way that the constancy of Spencer’s affection for you can. [Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader]

Word Count: 5K. Proof-read.

Content Warnings: ANGST + FLUFF (no, really). SECOND-PERSON POV. No use of Y/N. Mutual pining, idiots in love (not that they’d admit it), case details, slight gore, alcohol mention, a lot of self-deprecation, vague mentions of facial features but nothing too specific, light/darkness imagery, barely any dialogue because how the fuck are writers good at that part?, written with (pre-addiction) S2/Glasses!Spencer in mind. Let me know of anything else that should be mentioned.

Author's Note: Bit the bullet and decided to start posting my writing on Tumblr after a decade of trying to master the art of writing fanfiction because nothing can satisfy the Spencer Reid brainrot like this can. This is very self-indulgent and may actually not make a lot of sense, but honestly, I feel proud of it enough to make it my first post on here. Hopefully, someone else can enjoy it just as much as I do!

You didn’t mean to drink so much. 

Truth be told, you didn’t even want to be in a bar right now. Surrounded by music that was infinitely louder than your aching head could tolerate, people who were much too joyful for your liking. You were completely lost as to how the world kept spinning around, how life seemed to always go on, no matter what you’ve seen. No matter what you’ve known. It’s just what you were, you were always so lost.

But Penelope, ever so bright and charming, had insisted that a night out was exactly what the team needed after such a brutal case. It never failed to make you feel better, the lengths that she’d go to ensure that all of you managed to bounce back well enough after exceptionally tough cases. You appreciated the sentiment, were always grateful for her ability to make you smile and forget, to make you notice that the world could and did go on. Because of everything. Despite everything.

But it just wasn’t that easy all the time.

You guys had spent far too long this week examining headless corpses in rural Washington, chasing after an unsub who had managed to evade capture for more than a month. You deserved a break for being the good sports who brought him to justice. And while the team’s company had always managed to offer you that peace after such heavy cases, tonight felt different. 

You had been at this long enough (almost a year now) to understand that some cases would hit harder than others. Whether it was the amount or the force of violence you were faced with, or the inevitability of empathising with the victims and their families, some parts of this job would always haunt you more. It was just the way it had to be.

And so that’s what you blamed the amount of shots you had downed on — the way things had to be. Because you didn’t know what else to blame it on, you didn’t know just what made your heart keep sinking after the case had wrapped.

While anyone would argue that six headless male bodies were more than enough reason, you were afraid that it wasn’t as simple as that. After all, in less than a year with the BAU, you had seen worse, and if Hotch’s words on your first day were any indication of it — This job takes a lot out of all of us. You’ll need a solid support system to keep strong. You’ll see things that you could have never imagined possible. — then you were always going to see worse.

It wasn’t that, it wasn’t just that. So what was it?

With your arms folded in front of you, the strong aftertaste of tequila still burning in your throat, all your mind seemed to go back to was something that Spencer had shared on the flight out to Washington. While you were all looking through the case file, scanning the details and exchanging theories on the unsub’s motive and victimology, the population of the rural town had come into focus. Discussing the unavoidable connections existing in a town of less than 2,000 people, Spencer, in true Spencer-Reid fashion, had explained that it wasn’t necessarily like that. 

You could still hear his high-pitched, lively voice in your head, just like you could still picture the soft smile playing against his lips, and the enthusiasm that his tone was always laced with when he went off on one of his tangents.

There was a study conducted in the 1990s by British anthropologist Robin Dunbar in which a cognitive limit of close interpersonal relationships was suggested. He studied the brain size of primates, as well as their average group size, and then extrapolated his findings to propose that humans can comfortably maintain at most 150 stable relationships. Informally, he used the paradigm of the number of people you would not find it awkward to spend time with if you happen to casually bump into them to explain his study— 

It had turned out that the monkey-sphere, as Spencer had called it, referring to a later blog entry on the theory when you’d asked him more about it during your lunch break, actually had helped you in pinning down the unsub and his MO. In a broad sense, at least. The men that he had killed and beheaded were men that he saw as threats to his already deteriorating relationship with his ex-wife and estranged son. 

For all of the violence that you had so far encountered, you hadn’t become desensitised enough to mentally flinch at the lengths people would go to feel important. To ensure their place in someone’s life. Wasn’t that the curse of manhood? The need — the struggle — to resist change, to cling to any illusion of steadfastness? 

But nothing lasts forever, and everything changes without notice.

That’s what it was, you settled. The fear of being dispensable. The thought of not being good enough, not special enough, to be part of a statistic. Okay, not a statistic — someone’s statistic. Someone special’s statistic.

Someone like the man standing in front of you, with those hazel doe eyes, and that honey-like voice, and an innate gentleness unlike any you had ever known before.

You hadn’t realised you’d made it out of the bar, denying the otherwise friendly bartender’s offer for another couple of shots, until the rather frigid late-February DC air hit your face. 

You were fiddling with your phone inside your coat’s pocket, shifting your weight uncomfortably in a failed attempt to warm yourself up, rushing to send a text announcing your early departure Penelope’s way, when a familiar voice caught your attention.

“Sorry. Yeah, excuse me, I’m sorry—Hey!” You turned around once your name was called, coming face to face with none other than Spencer, who was exhaling heavily and dusting off his signature black coat from the heavy bar air still lingering on it.

“Spencer?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, a faint, rather tipsy smile present on your face as you watched him fix his glasses, “I thought you’d gone home already.”

“I—Yeah, I was going to, but then Morgan challenged me to play darts with him, and when I kept winning—“ Of course he did, you thought, head slightly tilted to the left as you tried to follow his every word, “—I had to come to the bar to get the drinks that he lost in the bet, that’s when I… when I, uh, saw you trying to leave, and…” 

He trailed off, his eyes squinting in that particular way they did when he was paying attention to something. Really paying attention to something. 

In your inebriated state, you didn’t have it in you to swoon over the fact that he was paying such close attention to you. Usually, the mere thought, let alone the knowledge that he could and did do that, was enough to get you flustered. 

“Huh?” You hummed, snapping back into focus, realising that not only had Spencer said something else, but that he was also standing closer to you now. Close enough for traces of his cologne to fill your senses — sandalwood and amber. Comfort and warmth. It had brought you close to tears more often than you’d like to think.

“I just asked you if you were feeling okay.”

His voice was soft as he gathered you, and despite how quiet it seemed compared to the sound of the music echoing through the bar’s walls and the much louder conversations of attendees hanging outside of it behind you two, it was all that you could focus on. All that was clear to you. 

Wasn’t it always like that? Hadn’t it been like that since the start? With gunshots fired, and law enforcement officers bickering, and even the simplest of conversations in the bullpen? 

The moment that Spencer spoke, all else faded away. 

God, you were screwed. You had made your peace with that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little out of it, you’ve drunk a lot tonight…”

There it was again. That gentleness which clawed at your insides and settled heavily across every fibre of your being. Sweet, sweet Spencer, who always seemed to care, who always made it known that he did. Could you ever be part of his monkey-sphere? Could you be special enough to remain part of it? 

“Mhm, yeah, I’m just… I’m just, you know—“ Scared. Terrified. Cold, cold, cold. Always so goddamn cold. “I’m just tired.” You settled, again, like you’d always learned to do.

His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He knew. You knew that he knew. Fuck, didn’t he always?

Feeling way more defenceless than you liked to be faced with his understanding, you averted your gaze from his, choosing to scan the closed shops lining the street aimlessly.

Until he spoke once more, anchoring you to the present moment, to his presence, and suggesting that you take the train home together.

“Wh—You live on a different line than I do.”

His smile only got bigger when he shrugged at your words, “I think that the longer transit might do me some good tonight. Uh, help me clear my head and all.”

You blinked up at him, pondering over his words silently. You didn’t have to, not really. You already knew that you didn’t want to decline his offer, just like he knew that he’d never be able to clear his head the way he so desperately wished he could. It didn’t mean that you both wouldn’t try, wouldn’t choose to fight against the constant, overwhelming current anyway.

“Are you sure? I mean, really, I’m alright, and you don’t have to—“

“No, I don’t have to,” He shook his head, gesturing to his right, towards the nearest metro station, “But I want to.”

And you didn’t say anything then, and you didn’t mind the gust of wind or the smoke of a passer-by’s cigarette hitting the side of your face as you turned to where Spencer’s pointing towards. Because he wanted to make sure you’re truly alright, even if it meant spending an extra half hour returning home tonight. Because in being the recipient of his gentleness, you started feeling less cold than you had since you faced that first headless corpse in rural Washington three days ago. Because right then, you were part of his monkey-sphere. He wanted you to be part of his monkey-sphere, and goodness, so did you. So did you.

And Spencer didn’t really mind that you weren’t your usual talkative self during the train ride to your apartment. He was always kind like that, sweet like that. Sure, he found it hard enough to remain silent for long periods of time, but that was only when silence felt hostile, something it never did with you. He also knew well enough that if he asked, you’d say it was because you were tired, which you obviously were, both of you were, but it wasn’t just that which clouded your features. 

So he stuck to comforting you the way that he usually found himself doing, by gravitating towards you. Standing between you and anyone else who might have tried getting too close to your hazy self in the (thankfully) sparsely-filled train, walking on the outer part of the sidewalk as you circled towards your apartment, tailing after you as you walked up the few stairs to your unit. Even by unlocking the door when he saw you fumbling with the wrong key twice.

It wasn’t the first time that Spencer had been to your apartment. He had found his way there before to drop off case files when you had called-in sick to work, had even spent a night curled up on your couch watching a film with you after a particularly bad case just so that neither of you would be alone. 

In a way, entering your personal space had always felt peaceful in a way that was impossible to deny. Maybe it was the bookcase filled to the brim with your favourite editions taking up most of the space of your living room’s corner. Maybe it was the few artworks lining the nearest wall to it, pieces that you had shared your love for to him before. Maybe it was the persisting scent of your burnt vanilla candles and the cluster of papers spread on the coffee table. Whatever it was, everything about it was so inherently you, and he was grateful for the intimacy that being around you, with you, in your home, came with.

Admittedly, he hadn’t noticed how lost inside his own head he’d got once again, standing by the entryway to your kitchen space. Not until he noticed your silhouette sneaking inside the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway to his right, your shoes left behind messily.

Spencer didn’t really know if it’d be better to just leave right then and there. After all, you were both exhausted from an awful case, and you had barely even felt like talking to him on the way here. He knew how much you valued your personal space, wearing your solitude like a crown, and truly, he didn’t expect to get you to open up to him about whatever it was that had bothered you enough to drink so much.

But he was also your friend. 

Oh, that he was. 

He had been your friend for so long, since the very first day, it seemed, the connection between you instant and undeniable. 

Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever paid attention to him quite like you seemed to ever before, listening to his more-often-than-not burdened stream of consciousness and engaging in your own, special way. Maybe it was the fact that his heart seemed to skip several beats whenever you found yourself by his side, whenever you actively sought his company out, both at and outside of work. He’d not forgotten that one morning during one of your rare day offs when you’d made your way to his apartment, with books and baked goods, inviting yourself for an impromptu breakfast — Come on, doc, you’re not going to say no to me, are you? These donuts practically called to me, they’re yours, if I say so. As if he’d ever say no to your boldness and your brightness and the delicate way with which you’d announced yourself stepping inside his home. He was just glad you’d not found him as disheveled as he usually was most weekends off, hair unruly and mismatched pyjamas from his college days, a rare choice for comfort over looking smart, as you always put it.

It didn’t matter that Spencer had gradually, since you’ve found your way to the team and to his life, come to realise that he didn’t see you simply as a friend. Not at all. He knew better than to let it matter. He knew better than anyone what happened when you let such audacious feelings and thoughts matter. So, he swallowed it all down in the hopes that it wouldn’t one day spill everywhere and make a mess out of a good thing like you. So far, he was doing well enough.

That’s what he kept telling himself as he silently put your shoes away at the designated space by your front door, before taking off his coat and deciding to be the good friend that he was by making you a cup of your favourite tea. You’d need it, if your stifled yawns and your flinched expressions at every loud noise during your commute were any evidence of it. Skimming through your selection in your cupboard, he knew he was lucky enough to credit that eidetic memory of his for remembering everything he’d found out about your space during his scarce visits. He was a good sport like that, it helped to rationalise the fact that every detail about you was saved into an inventory that was named after you inside his mind. If it was up to him, he’d never run out of things to include there.

He’d only just finished stirring the hot water in your favourite mug when he heard a loud noise coming from down the hall where you must have been, making his way there perhaps a little too fast.

He lingered by the half-ajar door briefly for fear that he’d screw anything up if he just barged in. Until he spotted you sitting on the closed toilet seat, with your make-up bag half-empty down in front of you.

Your eyes were much too soft when you glanced up, finally noticing him. Half-embarrassed, a small groan slipped past your lips, but you didn’t make a move to grab the scattered things from the floor. “I, uh… dropped the bag by mistake.”

Spencer tried really hard to bite back the smile that was already creeping at his lips, “I can see that.”

A beat of silence passed before he had made up his mind, seeing you try to blink away the exhaustion from your eyes. He took a deep breath, not quite moving from his place by the doorway. “Why don’t you let me help you with that?”

“You would?”

Spencer didn’t respond to that, instead instantly moving to kneel in front of you. Fixing his glasses, he desperately tried to focus on putting everything back in your make-up bag and not on how your eyes were practically burning the side of his face. 

It wasn’t your fault, though. How could it be when he was inches apart from you, close enough for you to notice his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, to feel the warmth of his breath hitting your face. From this close, hints of stubble were evident across his jawline, and you noticed the rim of his glasses was slightly crooked the way the knot of his tie was.

You snapped out of your trance when you saw him tip some of your make-up remover onto a cotton pad, and it suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Surely, he wasn’t going to—oh.

You tried not to flinch when he pressed the cloth against the apple of your left cheek, but the contact was so soft, so barely-there, so feather-light, that your eyes fluttered shut without you realising it. “You don’t have to do that…”

“Well, it’s not good for you to sleep with make-up on. It doesn’t allow for your skin to breathe properly, and it can also cause breakouts.” Spencer frowned, wiping at the excess mascara under your eye.

“How worse can it make me look?”

He paused, not missing the cutting self-deprecation in your tone. It wasn’t unusual, he knew how often you resorted to bringing yourself down, even if it was unintentional. It was second nature for you. He didn’t like it one bit. “You know that I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You opened your eyes then, a self-effacing smile plastered on your closed lips. Under the almost clinical white light of your bathroom, Spencer looked far warmer than you’d care to admit. You decided that you’d let him have his way being soft with you just this once. He was always so eager to help, even when there was nothing to help with, but you barely ever gave him the chance. Now, you needed it. And it had nothing to do with cleaning the traces of foundation and mascara staining the cotton pads in his hand. “Spencer?”

He hummed imploringly, immediately pausing his ministrations. He threw the used cotton pads in the bathroom bin, before returning his attention to you, not standing from his crouch despite the dull ache already present in his knee muscles.

“The theory that you talked about during the case… The, uh, statistic, the monkey-sphere…” You trailed off and he nodded, encouraging you as always, his closed fist ghosting the space near your thigh, “Am I a part of yours?”

If the question was silly after Spencer had already explained the theory to you, he at least had the decency not to hold it against you. Certainly not in your current state. Then again, he never would. He would gladly explain everything he could to anyone, take time to break down the intricacies of each topic happily, however long it took him. Especially with you — you who always listened, you who were always interested in him and what he had to say since the moment he met you. But there was a strange kind of comfort in the sight of your vulnerability, in seeing you strip yourself off of your usual armour, the constant fight or flight mode that you always seemed to be in since he first met you. There always had been. And so he welcomed it even more, despite the circumstances.

Spencer’s brow furrowed, the corners of his lips twitching faintly, “Yeah. You are, yeah.” His eyes searched yours, the frown on your lips confusing him, “Of course, you are. We literally work together.” The way you narrowed your eyes at him, as if his explanation was not good enough in the slightest, had him practically smiling. “We are friends, aren’t we?” 

You shrugged, visibly deflating under his ability to see right through you, but still unable to hide the gratitude you felt for it. “No, I know, yeah, I just…” Your right hand was millimetres apart from his closed fist. He didn’t try to move away. He secretly hoped that you wouldn’t, either. “But what if… What if time passes, and you end up meeting 150 new people, and then there’s no place left for me in your monkey-sphere anymore?”

Spencer tried not to chuckle, he really did, but your worrying, however impossibly sweet, was delightfully absurd. As if he could ever imagine a time where you wouldn’t be a part of his statistic, of his tight-knit group of cherished people, of the couple of souls that he wished to know as intimately as humanly possible. Truthfully, he couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t at the very top of his list. Not that he could ever admit that to you, of course.

“Don’t laugh, that’s not nice!” You pouted, your tone gently admonishing.

“I’m sorry, I’m not—I didn’t—“ He shook his head, practically crooning at your half-hearted attempt to cover your growingly flustered face with your hand, “I just… Your faith in me that I could manage to form 150 new close relationships on top of ours is… uh, amusing, to say the least. I can promise you that won’t happen.”

The tiny yet mischievous smirk now playing against your lips was enough to alert him to the fact that you were about to put him on the spot for his choice of words. 

“We have a relationship?” And there it was, your wit making its return, your ability to always turn the tables on him, to make his admittedly fragile eloquence disappear.

”We—I mean, yeah? Not like, no, you know that I didn’t mean it like—“ 

You did, even in your tipsy state. It didn’t matter that being around him as long as you had this past year, getting to know him as much as you had, made you wish that he could ever mean it differently. You tried and tried and tried not to think about that. Women like you were never allowed to think about men like Spencer, they were never allowed to indulge in the wishful thinking of being enough in such a way. Of hoping that they could ever be enough.

You just liked messing with him. You stuck with that explanation. It worked for both of you, because truthfully, Spencer seemed to like it, too. Even if it left him a flustered, stuttering, but rather charming bespectacled mess, he didn’t seem to mind. Or if he did, he had never made a comment on it. Maybe because he knew that you would immediately spare his feelings, that you would be your ever-kind self and stop offering him your undivided attention more often than not — and that was the last thing that he wanted. So, for both your sakes, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“I know, doc,” You nodded, finally standing up, “I know.”

Spencer followed you with his wide doe-like gaze as you exited from the bathroom, not moving to do the same until you were already hiding behind your bedroom door. He should’ve realised sooner that the case had taken quite a toll on you, that you had been far more invested in what tidbit of obscure knowledge he had chosen to share with you this time around. But to his defence, he never thought that anyone would ever care to be a constant part of his life the way you seemed to do. He didn’t know what to do with it, what to do with you, without constantly fearing that he’d ruin everything. How could he ever know? No one had ever taught him how to deal with such feelings. The countless books that he knew by heart didn’t prepare him for anything quite like your sharp wit, and your earnest glances, and the mellifluous tone of your voice whenever you acknowledged him. 

Spencer had been entirely unprepared for you. 

That was all that he could think about as he paced back to your kitchen, set on getting the tea he’d made for you by your bedside before he could leave. 

He opted for a small knock on your bedroom door, but if you’d heard it, you didn’t respond to it. Eventually, his need to assure you were safely tucked in your bed and not indulging even more in your usual self-torment won him over, and he stepped inside the room.

At first glance, anyone could have thought you were asleep, but Spencer knew better. He had studied your breathing pattern as you dozed off enough times on the jet rides home where you usually nestled in an armchair next to him. Still, he approached your bed as quietly as he could for fear of disturbing you in any way, fixing the untucked covers over your body after he left the still-somehow-burning-hot mug on your bedside table. Debating whether you’d purposefully left the lamplight on, or if it’d be a good idea to remind you to get out of the clothes which still carried hints of dirt and smoke and depravity, he ultimately decided against both.

He also decided against lingering in your personal space far longer than he should. Despite his palpable, innate curiosity, and goodness, was that hard. He wanted nothing more than to take harmless advantage of seeing your safe haven for the first time by studying the number of books left on your desk, the framed photographs decorating any surprisingly empty bookcase space, the small radio which seemed to play almost on mute from its place on the window sill. He hoped that he’d be able to do that, even as a friend, some other time. If he was lucky enough.

Against his better judgement, he did find himself taking in the dimly-lit details of your semi-obstructed profile where your face was half-buried in your pillow. He was almost sure he’d never noticed a particularly clear adornment of freckles lining the side of your jawline. He made note to search for them again another time, when you’d be conscious, and he’d perhaps find himself close enough in your personal space again. He was almost certain that they made up a constellation. The thought made his stomach flutter.

Once he had satisfied his silent pining enough without feeling like a total creep, and you’d assumed the position of sleep, he decided that his time was up. He had already made it to the bedroom door when you called out his name.

Once again, turning the tables on him. Always turning the tables on him.

“Spencer?”

He didn’t make his way back to your bed for he didn’t trust himself not to stay behind and ruin the comfort that you needed. He stilled, his fingertips grazing the door handle. “Yeah?”

From the corner of your eye, his silhouette half-shadowed, half-highlighted by the orange lamplight and the silver moonlight glow where he stood by the door, reminded you of a time when you felt brave enough to believe that no monsters were hiding in the dark. Now, after what you’d seen and what you’d known, you weren’t quite so sure. 

Still, you clung to the remnant of hope, the promise of affection that he embodied desperately. 

“I promise you’ll be part of mine, too.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. He knew that he didn’t have to, that you didn’t want him to, that you’d pretend you’d fallen asleep if he extended the gratitude for your return of his promise. 

He lingered by the door for a few more silent moments, ignoring the contradictory sensations of the goosebumps dancing across his skin, and the heat rising from his neck to his face. Luckily, he was able to. You were in no place to remind him of your effect on him right now. 

You and your turning the tables on him.

He wouldn’t be satisfied if he hadn’t acknowledged your promise in some way before he left, though. 

So, as he slipped out of your room, he made sure to leave the door more than half-open, enough so that the orange and silvers in your bedroom would bathe the rest of the night in your apartment as well. 

In his mind, he found it fitting enough. The promise that you wouldn’t feel quite so stuck in the darkness once you were left alone, once he wasn’t around to try and silence those demons that made you think you’d ever be dispensable. 

He hoped that he had done enough for the night. He hoped that you’d find it easier to believe his promise. To at least try to. Because he knew that he’d already found himself believing yours. Whatever it looked like, whatever it entailed, it was enough for him. The permanent spot you’d hold for him in your monkey-sphere was more than enough for him. It would have to be, if only to quench his wishful thinking, his hope that he’d someday occupy the top spot of your list, too. 

Spencer had been entirely unprepared for you, that was the truth — and maybe that was the best part of it all. The promise of light drowning out the darkness. The possibility that it could. 

It was enough.

It was more than enough.