#it kind of leads to. a sense of rejection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 22 days ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer knew the statistics about long-distance relationships—you knew he did, after all, he’d mindlessly mentioned them to you so many times, never realizing that every time he did, it felt like twisting the knife. but despite the initial struggles and the first tough month apart, it started to seem like they really didn’t apply to the two of you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x bau!female reader, long distance relationship&timezones, reader struggling with loneliness and sense of gloom, reader attending interpol training in another country (in netherlands tho it doesnt have much impact on the plot), queen elle being their relationship therapist for a whole one scene straight <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.8k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @mggslover but i'd write it anyway cause i missed my og beloved cutest couple xx

Click.

The light switch gave a soft snap, and light spilled through your apartment, letting you hang up your coat and bag. Odd—it didn’t feel at all like the weight of either had been lifted from your body.

Click.

Even such a small sound felt loud in the silence of your apartment. Always silent. When you tried to cover it up with TV or music, the place seemed to push those sounds away. To reject them, to refuse to let them seep into the walls and thin out the loneliness that clung to them.

You turned the light back off—you were heading straight to the bedroom anyway, not even stopping by the bathroom. But then something came to mind, something that made you freeze for a second.

Click.

You knew your boyfriend would freak out if he even imagined you crawling into the bed you shared without at least washing your hands after a full day out—at work, in that bacteria trap known as public transport. Okay, maybe freak out was a bit of an exaggeration. It’s not like he’d kick you out of bed or crash on the couch. You knew, though, that he wouldn’t feel comfortable with it. And that knowledge alone was enough to make you slip under the covers only after changing into clean clothes.

Well, your boyfriend wasn’t there.

Still, you made yourself go through that small ritual—one that, in its silly little way, let you pretend things were different.

It had only been a month since you moved to a different country, a whole different continent, for a training program offered by Interpol. A program that was, honestly, a great opportunity to gain new knowledge and skills. One you’d come to…genuinely enjoy. More than that—it gave you more fulfillment than your time with the BAU ever had. Before it started, you hadn’t even realized a job could bring that kind of satisfaction.

You were thriving. But that didn’t mean you felt okay.

Every time you came back to the apartment, the motivation you’d had during the day seemed to vanish. You’d remember you were in a foreign country, that everyone you loved was an ocean away, and when you stripped it all down—you were completely, fucking alone.

So every day, you came back to your four walls, reached for your phone—the one thing that helped you feel a little better, though only for a moment. Once the call ended, everything came rushing back.

You knew things would’ve been different if you’d tried to engage more—make new friends, go out, do something. By isolating yourself like that, you were missing the chance to truly experience the culture, and only making your state of mind worse.

But it was the same as with every other vicious cycle. Hard to break, even when you know it’s leading nowhere. Or somewhere—but nowhere good.

Finally, in your bedroom, you let yourself sink into the mattress for a brief moment—as if testing whether it could still offer the same comfort it once did. Back when you used to wait for this exact moment after long, exhausting days at work: that soft collapse into the sheets, the burying of your face in the pillow, letting your body relax and your eyes close.

It hadn’t felt that way since you left.

Lately, you’d even fallen asleep in a stiff armchair and barely noticed the difference. The only thing that still brought you comfort—the one thing you actually looked forward to—was reaching for your phone.

You did just that. But before starting the call, you turned on the front camera, studying your expression closely. Trying to brighten your eyes a little, lift the corners of your mouth just enough. With a seven-hour time difference, you didn’t get many chances during the day to really talk. So you didn’t want to ruin this one with your gloom.

When you were sure you’d managed it, you curled up on your side in bed and began the phone call. Spencer picked up almost immediately, used to your special time—just the two of you. His face stretched across the screen, your cheek pressed into the pillow, the whole thing reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

“Hello, Handsome,” you greeted, laughing almost immediately at his reaction.

Though he had gotten used to the pretty boy nickname, handsome still made him blush just a little. You knew it was only a matter of time before he grew accustomed to it, and then you'd have to find something new. But for now, you decided not to worry about that.

Spencer was silent, patiently waiting for you to stop laughing, but there was nothing hurried in his gaze. On the contrary, he seemed to be listening intently to the sound, his head slightly tilted.

"Every day, the same," he sighed.

"That’s because you look handsome every day. I’m just stating a constant, unchanging fact. If I were hosting the news, I’d start with, Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid looks incredible today, as always. Now, let’s move on to today’s events…"

Often, due to exhaustion, nothing you said made sense, but it never seemed to bother him.

"But when I tried to state a fact the other day and told you that you looked beautiful, you scoffed at me," he complained.

"That was after I came out of the shower, silly. I looked like a wet rat. There’s no universe where that could be a fact and not, I don’t know, something you said because you kind of like me," you replied.

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up.

"Kind of like you?"

"Slightly"

"So, according to your logic, I deeply hate everyone else around me?"

You shrugged lightly.

"Can’t read your mind, Spence."

For a moment, he was silent, and to your surprise, a genuinely worried, or at least thoughtful, expression appeared on his face.

"I hate that you think that," he confessed after a while, pressing his lips together for a moment before adding, "I mean, does that mean I’m telling you that you look beautiful just because you're my girlfriend, like it's some sort of obligation? In the universe I live in, I’d think you’re beautiful even if you were a wet rat."

Spencer Reid, the expert at giving compliments. After a moment, even he realized what he had just said and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can…can we pretend I didn’t say that? I just called you beautiful, not mentioning anything about rats."

"Nope. I’m taking that compliment to the grave”

He sighed softly. You began to feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you almost had to force them open wider. Had you been talking for only ten minutes? You hadn’t even asked about him, realizing that you had spent that precious time, which you didn’t get to share much, talking about whether or not you were beautiful—and now, you felt a bit silly.

"So, how was your day?"

His voice only deepened your sleepiness, but not because what he was saying was boring. It never was. The whole problem was that listening to him with your eyes half-closed allowed you to imagine that you were truly close to each other, faces inches apart, in the same bed, not just on the cold phone screen. He couldn’t see it, nor could he feel it, of course, but your thumb gently traced a path across his forehead, cheek, lips—lips moving as he spoke.

You didn’t even notice when you had switched off. Spencer, however, did.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, pulling you out of your not-so-happy thoughts. “It’s late for you, you must be tired, and I’ve been rambling…”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly reassured him, waking up. “I mean, we’ve only been talking for…”

“There’s no specific amount of time we have to talk. If you’re tired…”

“I’m not,” you stubbornly repeated, though it came out a little harsher than intended. If you were upset, it was only at yourself, for not having the energy to carry on a proper conversation with your boyfriend.

"Okay," he replied with a sigh that seemed to give way. "Alright, if that's what you say."

For a moment, silence settled, and you expected him to ask you something, to check on you. Ask about what he'd been talking about, if you had really been listening. But he wasn’t like that. He didn’t need to test your honesty.

You both started talking a little lighter, lazy chatter that, strangely, caused some pressure in your stomach. There were probably so many things he wanted to tell you, but he had held them back so as not to overwhelm you at this hour. If you were together, it would have been different. He could have told you at any time of day, whispered it in your ear while you were drifting to sleep, because you would be lying down at the same time.

Phone conversations have a way of letting you sense when they’re coming to an end. For you two, it always came with a moment of silence and that one simple, repeating assurance.

"I miss you," he said.

You stared at his face on the screen, feeling your throat close up. You couldn’t speak, not because you didn’t feel the same way. Of course, you did. It was just that feeling that stole your words; you were so tired of telling him how much you missed him.

"I miss you too," you replied after a long moment, softly, barely forcing your lips to move.

You might have felt bad, but you couldn’t imagine not answering him.

Before the conversation came to an end, Spencer looked at you for a moment longer, and you could see a faint, sad shadow in his eyes.

JJ laid her cards on the table, immediately raising both hands in a victory gesture.

Defeated, Morgan tossed his cards aside. Spencer, on the other hand, simply shook his head with a sigh, gathering all the cards to shuffle them for the next round. Although, he hadn’t decided yet if he even wanted to play. He’d lose anyway. He was too lost in his thoughts, worries, to focus.

“No offense, gentlemen, but beating you doesn’t give me any satisfaction,” JJ declared, pressing her back against the seat backrest on the jet. “None at all. Oh, at times like this, I really miss her. My only worthy opponent.”

At the sound of your name, Spencer almost let the cards slip from his hands. He had been thinking about you, and when it was spoken aloud, it caused that funny collision between reality and what was going on in his mind. And he had been thinking about you mostly because of your conversation the day before. During which, something had clearly been off, but he had no idea what. You seemed a bit down, but he didn’t know how to ask about it. At some point, he had rambled on too, which might have just seemed tiring to you.

"Elle, maybe you’ll join us?" JJ asked her teammate.

Spencer turned over his shoulder. Greenaway was sitting behind them, alone, with her laptop open, almost blocking her face.

"Hm?" She lifted her head, her brown eyes scanning their faces as she looked around thoughtfully. It took a moment for her to realize what the question was about. "Oh. No, sorry, but I'm busy with another game right now."

To prove her point, she turned her laptop around, showing them the chessboard on the screen.

"You're playing chess online?" Spencer asked, surprised.

He stood up from his seat to sit across from Elle. He hadn’t even known that was an option, but something about it immediately didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t imagine playing chess without sitting across from his opponent, analyzing their expression and the subtle, carefully hidden but still somehow slipping reactions.

"You know, I’d play with you if you asked."

Elle didn’t glance at him, fully focused on her virtual chess game. To his surprise, however, a mysterious smile appeared on her lips.

"Who said I wanted to play with you?" she asked. "But seriously, maybe next time. Right now, I have another opponent. You know her, by the way."

Spencer blinked in confusion, utterly unaware of what she was talking about. He’d never played chess online, so he had no idea who any of her internet opponents could be.

"I thought your girl would be much better. Maybe you could help her improve. Or maybe you’re not doing that on purpose so she doesn’t beat you?"

“You’re playing with…”

Elle nodded before he could finish. His mouth parted for a brief moment, in surprise. Okay, now it made sense. It also made sense why the chess opening on the screen seemed to tickle his memory, feeling strangely familiar.

For a while, Spencer just watched their game, imagining your lips pursed in concentration as you hesitated over what to do with your queen. But then he shook his head, pushing the vision away—it reminded him too much of how much he missed that sight. Missed your lips in general. Missed you.

A fleeting smile crossed his face when you beat Elle.

“Could I talk to you about something?” he asked once the game was over, lowering his voice slightly so the rest of the team wouldn’t hear.

It felt strange to bring this up even with her. He rarely reached out to anyone for relationship advice—both of you had always operated under the rule that there was no problem you couldn’t solve together, just the two of you. Then again, that rule hadn’t accounted for this many miles apart for this long.

Elle looked at him closely, immediately sensing something was up.

“Sure,” she said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Spencer took a deep breath.

“I’m a little worried about her,” he admitted. “And about our relationship, but mostly about her.”

“Why? Has she been acting strange?”

“A bit? I mean, we’re still talking, things are generally okay, but she seems kind of down. More withdrawn, and sometimes…sometimes I get the feeling she’s forcing herself to talk to me because she thinks she has to. I don’t know, maybe something happened that she doesn’t want to tell me about. And I know I shouldn’t be asking, you don’t have to say anything if it feels wrong…but has she mentioned anything to you?”

His friend stayed completely still and silent for a moment too long. Reid felt a strange tightness coil in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. The longer the silence dragged on, the more convinced he became that his theory might actually be right. And if that part was true, then so was what he was about to say next.

“We both agreed to this,” he continued quietly. “I mean, to being long distance. Not like we had much of a choice, but…you know what I mean. We could’ve just…ended it.”

Just saying that felt wrong in his mouth, like a sour taste. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which they’d chosen to let go.

“And…I just keep wondering if maybe she regrets it. Maybe this is harder for her than it is for me—because she’s in a completely new place, and maybe she’d rather focus on her life and her work there, instead of forcing herself to keep talking to me…”

“Spencer,” Elle interrupted him gently.

She rarely used his first name, and hearing it now carried a quiet kind of tenderness. Her lips pressed together for a moment as if she were carefully choosing her words. Eventually, she sighed.

“Spencer…first of all, I have to tell you—I don’t think I know anything you don’t. Let’s start there. And second…” she exhaled slowly, “we both know her. So you know how much she tends to keep to herself. Especially when it comes to things that worry or upset her—she doesn’t want anyone else to carry the weight. And usually, you can tell by watching her…but now? You can’t. You only have phone calls. So yeah, I’m guessing a lot is slipping through the cracks. And maybe she doesn’t want to tell you everything, not because she doesn’t trust you, but because—okay, I’m guessing here—you two probably don’t have much time to talk. So when you do, she’d rather spend it enjoying that moment with you, instead of unloading all the heavy stuff. You get that, right?”

Spencer didn’t nod, didn’t say anything at first—but he understood. He understood perfectly; everything Elle had just described fit her so well it almost hurt. And yet, it still didn’t answer the one question that had been gnawing at him the most.

“But what should I do?”

“Well, I doubt this’ll shock you, but…talk to her,” she replied with a small, quiet snort. “Like, really talk to her. Let her know it’s okay to talk about the hard stuff too. But Reid…I can’t speak for her, obviously, but I really don’t think she wants to end things.”

He studied her face, trying to see if she truly meant it—or if she was only saying what she thought he needed to hear, just to keep him from walking around miserable all day while they were supposed to be focused on the case.

“You really think so?” he asked softly, a note of hope creeping into his voice.

“What I think,” she said, “is that you two are actually made for each other. And you can handle a lot more than just some time apart. Seriously, Reid. Just…make sure you talk it through. For real.”

He was quiet for a moment, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you, Elle.”

“Don’t mention it. And if that’s all, then stop bothering me. It’s time for a rematch with your girlfriend…”

“You know, I didn’t suggest it to you earlier,” you began, pausing as you settled more comfortably on the couch with your laptop on your knees. This time, you could only see your boyfriend’s face in a tiny window in the corner of the screen—the rest was taken up by the chessboard. “Because I didn’t think you’d like it. Considering the fact that you’re… well, you’re…oh, no offense, but you’re kind of a huge technophobe sometimes.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, thinking over your words. Then, with a small, defeated nod, he conceded.

“You’re not wrong. But I’m starting to come around. To technology, I mean,” he clarified with a soft sigh. “For you.”

“Ah, that terrible girlfriend of yours, forcing you to adapt to the modern world,” you muttered, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

“Ah, that terrible yet absolutely amazing girlfriend of mine who always has a sarcastic comment ready and just can’t resist teasing me,” he shot back in the same tone, matching your expression perfectly—except for the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You mirrored it when you noticed the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. “Before we start the game…can we talk for a bit? Just…talk?”

You frowned slightly at the clear note of request in his voice. You both had the day off, finally a chance to spend more time together, to really enjoy each other's company—and had naturally decided on a game (or a few) of chess. You’d been feeling unusually good that day, and it seemed like he had too. You were expecting a cozy afternoon, just the two of you, which is why his gentle question made a small knot of worry form in your chest.

“Sure,” you said, dragging the word out just a little. “Nothing’s wrong…right?”

"I don't know," Spencer admitted, to your surprise. "Is it?"

You shook your head slightly, brows furrowed, not quite understanding him. He suddenly sighed, adjusting his glasses on his nose in a nervous gesture.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. What I really meant to say…" he hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment. "You know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime you need to."

You blinked at that, not quite an admission, but more of a reminder.

"Yeah, I know that," you admitted, swallowing. "I’ve never...never felt any differently. Not with you."

To your surprise, again, he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

"I have a different feeling," he confessed after a moment of silence. You completely forgot you were supposed to be playing chess, your eyes fixed entirely on his face on the screen. "Something’s going on, and you don’t want to tell me because you don’t like when people worry about you. But what worries me more is that I don’t know what’s troubling you. I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s how it feels."

You suppressed a sigh, feeling, in a way, cornered.

"Nothing’s happening, Spencer. I just feel so lonely, that’s all. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to falling asleep alone, but it’s not something you can really fix right now, so I didn’t see the point in telling you."

You felt his gaze resting on you, and you lowered your eyes to the keyboard of your laptop, struggling to respond.

"You see?" you began, forcing yourself to shrug indifferently. "It’s really nothing serious. I’m probably overreacting. It’s only been a month, and I’ll get used to it soon. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you about this..."

"But I’m glad you did," he interrupted. You finally allowed yourself to look up at his face, immediately meeting the warmth in his eyes. You involuntarily felt a bit teary, causing you to blink more often. "It’s not overreacting. You have every right to feel lonely, lost, being there on your own. I just wish you would talk to me about these things. Now that I know, I can...I don’t know...try to reach out to you more often." He trailed off, as if both of you had thought of the same thing. No number of phone calls could replace the real contact of being with someone, standing face to face, and the touch. "I’m sorry I’m not there."

Something tightened in your chest, though a soft laugh escaped your lips.

"Spencer, you can't apologize for something like this."

He nodded slightly.

"I know. But...I think I have an idea on what to do to make you feel at least a little better. Well, at least in this one regard."

That night, you lay down in bed with your phone next to you, listening to his gentle voice. It only seemed like a conversation for a brief moment, as sleepiness soon overtook you and you stopped responding. However, the phone call remained uninterrupted, and his words stayed with you as you drifted off to sleep. Because, as you had realized once, with your eyes closed, you were capable of believing in a lot of things.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal mind #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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fizzyorange-v2 · 6 months ago

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makes a truly depressing amount of sense that evan is so deeply, existentially terrified of being trapped in a narrative when you remember that he was born the classic dark evil wizard trope prophesied presumably to bring about some great magic chaos and destruction and he tried desperately to escape that narrative and destiny all his life by trying so hard to be good and kind and rejecting his demons despite every awful thing he’d been through…..

…which then actually, accidentally did lead to him fulfilling that world ending destiny anyway, by causing The Breaking when he uploaded all those magical books online trying so so hard to do the right thing.

no matter if he accepted his destiny or actively rejected it, the prophecy still came true. he still always hurt people. he’s damned to the nature of his character archetype, and deep down he’s always known it.

basically, this poor guy has been trapped in a doomed inescapable narrative from birth. of course the possibility of getting sucked into another caused him to have a full evan kelmp level freak out lol. him quite literally trying to escape a narrative this episode is so on the nose it’s hilarious

#evan kelmp #d20 mismag #mismag analysis #fizz character thoughts #misfits and magic #dimension 20 #mismag #d20

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oh-phoenixx · 2 months ago

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"Boost" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 1074 words

James had never struggled much with his self-worth, his view of himself. But he had not realised until recently how dependent his pride was on other people’s opinions. So, when James was studying alone with Regulus, and the younger boy did nothing but insult him, he needed a little boost to his confidence.

With a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, James was going to ask someone to be his date, and who—besides Regulus—could say no to a face like his? Now, James hadn’t intended to do this in front of Regulus, it just worked out that way. He spotted Tracy in the library, and realised that she was a girl, at the very least.

“Hey, Tracy,” James called. “Wanna come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

Tracy smiled at him and nodded. “Sure.”

James Potter was back in the game, ladies and gentlemen. When he looked back to Regulus, James saw that he was fuming, clutching his quill with a grip hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“What? Did you want to ask her?” James scoffed.

“No,” Regulus muttered. “Shut up.”

“Wow, great comeback. I’m wounded, Reggie,” James mocked.

Regulus did not say another word for the majority of the study session, simply glaring at James occasionally. James didn’t know what his problem was. The only reason James was studying with Regulus was as a favour to Sirius. Regulus had asked for Sirius’s fifth-year notes, but Sirius had thrown all of his away and knew that James still had some. Out of the kindness of his heart, and his love for Sirius, James had offered to go over them with Regulus, as his handwriting was somewhat…illegible. Despite his generosity, Regulus did not seem at all grateful that James was giving up his time to be here.

“What the fuck does this even say?” Regulus muttered. “How can you possibly have handwriting this awful?”

“Sorry, Mr. I-Write-In-Cursive-Because-I’m-A-Pretentious-Git,” James grumbled. He took the page. “That clearly says unicorn blood!”

“How was I supposed to read that?” Regulus whisper-shouted. “The ink is smeared across the page!”

James frowned at the parchment. “Yeah, I reckon I wrote this one with my left hand.”

“Why would you do that?” Regulus questioned, eyes narrowed as if James was losing his mind.

“I’m ambidextrous,” James said with a grin, though he knew realistically it wasn’t a brag. He was ambidextrous in the sense that both hands were equally as shit.

Regulus just groaned and took back the parchment, continuing to try to decipher James’s handwriting, as he refused to just have it read to him, because ‘I’m not a toddler, Potter. I don’t need a bedtime story’.

On Monday evening, when the two next studied together, James felt somewhat uncomfortable. Strangely, it had nothing to do with Regulus, but with Tracy constantly looking over and smiling at him. James did not like to be this person, he hated being in this position, he hated when people liked him and he didn’t like them back. He felt guilty about leading them on and guilty about breaking it off or rejecting them. There was nothing wrong with Tracy; she was nice, funny, and smart. James wanted to like her back. But his mind seemed occupied, and he didn’t know why.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Regulus sighed. “You could just go if you’re so occupied.”

“Huh?”

“That girl is eye-fucking you,” Regulus mumbled, face hidden by his hand rubbing his forehead as he wrote.

“No, she’s not,” James muttered. “And I’m not interested, anyway.”

Regulus, for some reason, seemed to relax a little at this. They got back to work and James tried his best to ignore Tracy. But, on the way out of the library, Tracy stopped him to talk about the next time they could see each other.

James had a small, minor, tiny problem with wanting everyone to like him all the time. Sure, they were exceptions, like most of the Slytherins. He was a Gryffindor, of course they weren’t going to like him, it wasn’t anything personal. But he had a genuine and all-consuming fear of disappointing people. So, he did the most logical thing. He said: “Uh, sorry, I realised I’m, uh, gay.”

“Oh.” Tracy’s face fell, but she quickly put on a smile. “Good for you, James. Sorry for bothering you.”

As she walked away, Regulus raised his eyebrows. James winced. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings!”

“You know if you ever date another girl she’ll realise you were lying,” Regulus pointed out.

“I wasn’t lying, per se, I was…obscuring half the truth,” James defended. “I’ll just have to find a good guy, then.”

“Too bad Lupin’s taken, I think he’s the only datable person in your entire friend group,” Regulus scoffed.

“Hey, I have very fuckable friends,” James protested, then grimaced. He had a strange instinct to protect all of his friends, though he wasn’t sure any would be happy to hear that he thought this, except maybe Sirius. “Ooo! You could pretend to-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend?” Regulus asked, eyebrows raised. When James nodded, Regulus shook his head. “First of all, that’s an awful cliché. Second of all, fuck off.”

James groaned and followed after Regulus as he started to walk away. “Come on, you owe me one.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Regulus said.

Now, James didn’t want to get too arrogant or anything, but he was a very persuasive person. He was confident that he could get even Regulus Black, certified-grumpy-piece-of-shit, to listen to him. And, sure enough, after delivering a long and charming monologue about all of his good qualities (Regulus had called it pestering, but potato whatever), Regulus gave in.

So, that evening, Regulus and James walked into the Great Hall together. Regulus turned and left a chaste kiss on his cheek, and oh. Oh, this would be a problem. James stuttered out a goodbye, his face almost seeming to burn where Regulus’s lips had been.

“Bye, Jamie,” Regulus bid. Of course, James knew the nickname was just for show. But, fuck, that didn’t change the way his stomach flipped. He suddenly understood why they called them butterflies.

James sat down at his usual spot, right next to Sirius, face red and realising a lot of things at once.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius hissed.

“I think I’m in love with your brother,” James answered dumbly.

#spreading my james is ambidextrous hc btw #marauders #marauders era #james potter #james fleamont potter #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #marauders microfic #jeggyverse microfic #microfic #starchaser microfic #james x regulus #sirius black

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spiritualanarchistsblog · 5 months ago

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Indicators of Being an Outcast

Chiron in Leo, Scorpio, or Aquarius - Chiron in Leo shows that one was likely deprived of attention, overlooked, or ignored. Or maybe they received constant unwanted attention from people who picked on them. Chiron in Scorpio shows a wound having to do with secrets, intimacy, etc. They may have been betrayed by someone they trusted and this person could have outcasted them. They could be seen as too intense for people who are superficial. Chiron in Aquarius shows wounds relating to groups and struggling to find a sense of belonging. They don’t truly feel accepted by anyone.

Chiron in 1H/3H/4H/7H/10H/11H - With Chiron in 1st, they could have a major wound related to their body image, personality, and identity due to bullying and rejection. Chiron in 3rd could be an outcast in school or in their neighborhood. Having severe social anxiety and getting picked on in school is possible. Chiron in 4th could be outcasted from their family. The black sheep placement. Chiron in 7th could be outcasted by partners/enemies. Exes could spread rumors about them that lead to people turning on them. Chiron in 10th could have a tarnished reputation. They may have experienced public shame or backlash. Chiron in 11th experience repeated rejection from friends. They could have a hard time making or keeping friends.

Chiron making major aspects to personal planets or angles (especially harsh ones) - Again, Chiron’s influence is undeniable here. Chiron aspects can make it difficult for people to get them, depending on the planets involved. For example, having Chiron square Venus may cause them to be misunderstood or outcasted by potential love interests or people who embody the qualities of Venus because they don’t like the way Venusian themes are being expressed. They may pick on the appearance or financial status of the Chiron person.

Aquarius/Uranus dominance/Uranus in the 11th house - Could be seen as someone who is too eccentric. Maybe they have ideas that are considered radical, which will be off-putting to those who are stuck in the past. Their progressive views and rebellious spirit are misinterpreted as being attention seeking, even though they’re being genuine.

Neptune/Pisces dominance/Neptune in the 11th house - Sensitive souls. They could be manipulated by people who appear to have good intentions, but are only there to take advantage of their kindness. Feeling dissociated from those around them because their emotional depth is not understood is common.

Scorpio/Pluto dominance/Pluto in the 11th house - They come off as intimidating people, even though they’re not trying to be. People feel uncomfortable around them for no reason. Others may talk behind their back or try to sabotage them, simply because these individuals haven’t healed wounds within themselves and something about the Scorpio/Pluto person brings that to the surface.

Prominent Black Moon Lilith - Ostracized and criticized for the pettiest reasons. Jealousy is one of them. They could find themselves in many taboo situations that are out of their control, yet, people tend to blame them for causing the situations. Could be shamed for being too sexual by people who aren’t comfortable with their own sexuality.

8H/12H placements - 8H placements endure a lot of intense and transformative experiences throughout their lives. People can subconsciously sense that they’re not afraid of their own dark side, which is triggering and might cause dislike, envy, or resentment. With 12H placements, isolation is often a recurring theme. This could be the result of feeling different from others, or being disillusioned or betrayed by them.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro community #astro observations

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Writing a "Self-Conscious" Character

Self-consciousness - a sense of self-awareness heightened to an extreme and problematic degree.

It manifests through a fixation on how other people perceive your looks, personality, and behaviors.

Since you believe everyone has negative thoughts about you, you develop those same thoughts about yourself.

These feelings can easily become overwhelming, leading to a detrimental effect on your quality of life.

Signs of Self-Consciousness

If you feel like everyone dislikes you and mocks your every move, there’s a good chance you’re a self-conscious person. These three signs might help you better determine whether or not you’re self-conscious:

Excessive embarrassment: Perhaps the signature feeling of self-consciousness is embarrassment. In social situations, self-conscious people are prone to think everyone around them views them in a negative light. The embarrassment this causes leads people to experience crushing levels of self-doubt and withdraw from others.

Low self-esteem: If you think you have nothing positive to offer the world, you’re probably very self-conscious. While not all self-conscious thoughts and insecurities are so dire, they all tend in this negative direction. It might take some work, but you can overcome these feelings, build self-confidence, and achieve real happiness.

Social anxiety: Self-conscious patterns of thought often lead people to experience a great deal of social anxiety. They might have an especially hard time being around strangers, coworkers, and acquaintances. In extreme cases, their fear of rejection might even lead them to withdraw from their closest friends and loved ones.

How to Stop Being Self-Conscious

Even if you’re self-conscious now, you can take steps to build your confidence and become more comfortable in social situations. Here are a few tips you can incorporate into your life:

Be kind to yourself. To overcome self-consciousness, turn your feelings of self-loathing into self-love. Rather than engage in self-criticism, work on reciting positive affirmations to yourself. Focus on your strengths and what you have to offer the world. Realize that even perceived weaknesses can become strengths when you utilize them well. It might feel unnatural at first, but self-acceptance can prove to be just as much of a learned behavior as self-consciousness.

Get outside your comfort zone. In the course of your daily life, try to put yourself in situations that make you uncomfortable. Start small and work your way up from there as you begin to step out of your comfort zone. Remind yourself there’s a first time for everything. As you experience self-conscious emotions in these scenarios, you’ll slowly begin to realize they aren’t as bad as you worried they’d be.

Meet with a therapist. Reach out to a licensed therapist to work through how your feelings of self-consciousness developed in the first place. These trained professionals can help you unpack why you feel anxiety in social situations or why your own thoughts can often work against you. They’ll also help you build up your sense of self-worth, leading to an improved state of well-being.

Practice mindfulness. If self-consciousness is a fixation on negative thoughts, mindfulness is the process of letting these thoughts go. When you practice mindfulness meditation in your everyday life, you start to realize your self-conscious thoughts are like storm clouds passing through the sky. The same goes for your emotions. If you let these thoughts and feelings pass through you rather than latch on to them, you’ll begin to view yourself with more objectivity, equanimity, and compassion.

Reframe your thoughts. Your inner critic will make you believe everyone thinks you’re awful and knows every bad thing you’ve ever done. This is an example of the spotlight effect—the belief everyone in a room focuses on you. In reality, many people are probably just as self-conscious as you and are worrying over what you think about them. As you reframe your negative thoughts in a positive way, you’ll bolster your sense of self-worth.

Causes of Self-Consciousness

Self-consciousness arises in people for all sorts of different reasons.

Mental health conditions like depression, anxiety, or OCD might put you at higher risk for developing these feelings about yourself.

Childhood experiences of abandonment, bullying, and rejection can also have a major impact on a person’s self-image or propensity for negative self-talk.

Even into adulthood, negative experiences with others can lead you to develop a poor self-image and an increased sense of self-consciousness.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#writing notes #character development #writeblr #writing reference #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #light academia #writing inspiration #writing ideas #character building #writing resources

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 1 year ago

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Gale x Tav Kissing Headcanons

A/N: The patch 6 announcement has me back on my bullshit. I know I write a lot for Astarion, but this stupid wizard has my heart too. Here’s to hoping we get to make out with him soon.

Gale’s kisses come in stages

Obviously for a long time he’s very concerned about the orb and getting too excited, as it were

Even after the orb is stabilized and you have your first night together, some part of him thinks he’s getting away with something

The kisses shared between you are fleeting, but tender

While he adores your lips, he’ll just as happily kiss your hand or the top of your head, really any place he can reach

He wants to stay, even if it’s just the barest kiss you can sense it pains him to pull away, but you have other things to do

If he pushes his luck, maybe you’ll be the one to pull away first; he knows he can be a bit…much

The longer your together, the less hesitant he is

All he really needs is for you to pull him back into a deeper kiss a few times in a row for him to get the message

Once he has your permission, it’s nearly impossible for him to keep his hands off you

He still feels like he’s getting away with something, that at any second you’re going to realize he’s not enough or maybe the orb comes back or honestly just the daily dangers you have on your journey are going to tear you away, but instead of bracing for rejection, it just makes him hungry

He starts kissing you like it’s the end of the fucking world, but, in his defense, it kind of is

Even soft kisses come with hands cupping your face as he sharply inhaled your scent

He also can’t help but steal a few more, as if making up for lost time

Kisses after a fight are positively indecent

We already know he gets horny, but knowing he can touch you after makes him practically vibrate

He has enough self control to wait until your properly healed and back at camp, but not enough to wait until after you bath before he’s pulling your some place private and kissing the air right out of your lungs

That’s not to say every kiss leads to something more, only that he’s less reserved in putting all his love and adoration into every touch

He worships you, let him worship you

The feeling can be addicting, but it’s also something you might need to work on with him

Everybody wants to be loved, but being truly in love you need to be a partner, not a goddess on a pedestal

Your mortal and so is he, you don’t need worship, you just need him

And when he finally gets that into his thick skull you find him kissing you in all new ways

Without the threat of the Elder Brain or the crown, Gale finally feels like he has time

He still can’t keep his hands off you, but there is a warm security in it

He’s not afraid your going to pull away

He can kiss you slowly, savor the taste as he smiles against your lips

He can tease you and know you’ll just laugh and pull him back again

His finds he loves kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck as he simply holds you from behind for no other reason than because he can

Even when he finds himself distracted by grading papers or some new discovery, he’ll reach out for your hand, bringing it to his lips to make sure you know he knows your there

He starts to plan his mornings allowing for at least an extra fifteen minutes to get out of bed because how can he be expected to get anything done before he’s properly kissed you awake

Maybe things will teeter off later down the line, his colleagues have teased him more than once about the honeymoon phase

But even years down the line, he can’t see himself slowing down

Honestly the fact that it’s expected for people to be less in love with their spouse after their married is something he can’t find himself ever understanding (skill issue)

He doesn’t kiss you like it’s the end of the world, he kisses you like the world is going to keep on spinning, that time is going to keep moving forward and the best way he knows how to spend it is with you

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale headcanons

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hoe4hotchner · 7 months ago

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You left me behind, and now I see you everywhere | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!Reader | WC: 11.6k | CW: MDNI, 18+, emotional distress, heartbreak, angst, unresolved feelings, grief, heated argument, anger, smut, piv, wrap it before you tap it, it's office sex, heated kiss, dirty talk, kind of rough sex, general case talk, mention of mr. Scratch (if that's even a warning, maybe some of y'all have trauma ;))

Summary: After years apart, following Hotch’s departure into witness protection and his decision to run for Congress, you're forced to confront unresolved feelings when you meet again. Tension builds as you navigate your emotional fallout, leading to a passionate confrontation and a second chance at love.

A/N: Worldwide by Big time rush started playing from my playlist as I reached the last scene to edit…. I had to stop myself from crying cause that song fits so well for some reason.

Peter Lewis was dead. Mr. Scratch was finally gone. With him out of the picture, Aaron could come back. That had been your one glimmer of hope through all the sleepless nights and endless waiting — knowing that once Lewis was no longer a threat, the man you loved would return. No more running, no more hiding. Hotch and Jack would finally be safe.

You clung to that thought like a lifeline, repeating it to yourself over and over again: He can come back now. He’ll come back to me. He'll come home.

The rumors had reached your ears days before Rossi called the meeting. Hotch was out of witness protection. Finally free to do what he wanted, to reach out again. Your heart soared at the news, desperate for it to be true. You had tried to keep your emotions in check, to remind yourself that things weren’t that simple, that there were procedures he had to go through before he could come home. But still, the idea of him walking through those doors — or knocking on your door — returning to his place at the BAU, and — most importantly — returning to you, was the only thing that kept you from breaking completely during his absence. It was the only reason why you had been able to keep your composure.

Now, as you stood in the conference room, your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The relief of knowing Peter Lewis was gone should have been enough. It should have been enough.

They'll be safe.

Rossi took his place at the front, his demeanor was serious, a subtle weight to his usually warm expression that you'd come to love over the years. You could see the effort it took for him to meet your eyes, his gaze softening as though he knew the words that would follow would shatter you. Rossi had become a rock to you over the past year, always there to have a heartfelt chat about your feelings, how you were doing, and the progress you'd made trying to move on. But in reality, you hadn't.

“I’ve spoken to Aaron,” Rossi said, his voice calm but laced with gravity. “He and Jack are safe. They’ve left witness protection.”

You exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and joy rushing through you. He’s safe. After everything, he was safe. That meant he would come back. He had to.

But then Rossi continued, his eyes flicking over the team, hesitant in a way that made your stomach twist. “Hotch won't be returning to the BAU.”

The world around you froze. His words echoed in your ears, but your mind rejected them, refusing to accept the truth they carried. He’s not coming back? It didn’t make sense. You couldn’t make sense of it.

"What do you mean he’s not coming back?"

The tears welled up before you could stop them. Your throat tightened, and you felt your heart shatter inside your chest. He wasn’t coming back. The man you loved — the man you had held onto, even when he left you behind — was choosing not to return, was choosing to stay away. The hope you had so carefully nurtured and held onto was ripped away in an instant, replaced by a cold, gnawing sense of abandonment. You felt the pit in your stomach, and you couldn't tell if you were going to throw up at the revelation.

It felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared blankly ahead, your body betraying you as the sobs threatened to spill out. You blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, trying to ground yourself, but it was no use. How could he?

You had waited. You had been patient. You had loved him through all of it — through the secrecy in the beginning, through the ups and the downs, and now through the distance. You had held onto the belief that once the threat was over, he would come back to you. That you two could be whole again. That your soul finally would be reunited with its missing piece. But now, it seemed like everything you had hoped for, everything you had believed in, was gone.

Your hands shook as you tried to wipe the tears from your face, but they just kept coming. He’s not coming back. The realization pierced through your chest, sharp and unforgiving. It was like reliving the moment he left, only this time, there was no promise of a future. No promise of us.

You felt like a fool. You had been his, entirely, even when he hadn’t been yours. You had given him everything — your love, your trust, your loyalty. And now? Now he had left you with nothing but the weight of that betrayal.

Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The room around you faded into the background as your world crumbled at Rossi’s words.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t coming back. Not to the team. Not to you.

The silence in the room after Rossi’s announcement was deafening. You stood there, tears streaming down your face, completely oblivious to the concerned glances being exchanged around you. The tension in your chest was unbearable, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Emily was the first to notice, her brow furrowing as she took a step toward you. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice full of concern as she tilted her head with compassion. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words were stuck in your throat, buried under the crushing weight of your emotions. You shook your head, your lips trembling as you tried — and failed — to stop the tears. Truth be told, they weren't surprised by your reaction.

“Hey, come here,” JJ said gently, moving closer, her hand hovering just above your shoulder, wanting to pull you in for a hug. Her touch was warm and comforting, but it felt like too much. The kindness, the sympathy — it overwhelmed you, only reminded you of how deeply you’d been hurt.

You pulled away, a sudden, jerky movement that made JJ’s hand drop back to her side. The rejection was unintentional, but you couldn’t help it. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you wanted was to be left alone, to scream and cry.

“I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though the crack in your voice betrayed you. You turned away from them, wiping furiously at your face, even though the tears wouldn’t stop.

I can’t break down here. Not in front of them.

Morgan stepped forward, his expression softening as he watched you struggle. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. We know how much he meant to you. We’re here for you,” he said, his voice low, it was sincere, but you weren't ready for that, weren't ready to admit that this was your new reality.

But that was the problem. They were all there, and you were unraveling in front of them, exposed and vulnerable. You didn’t want their comfort. You didn’t want their pity. What you wanted was Aaron. You wanted answers. You wanted an explanation for why he had chosen to leave you behind, why he wasn’t coming back. For why he never called.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought. You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the weight of their eyes on you, all of them waiting, ready to offer support. But it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

They weren't him.

You shook your head again, more forcefully this time. “I just—” Your voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying on your tongue. “I need to go.”

Rossi, who had been quietly watching the exchange from across the room, stepped forward. His eyes were filled with understanding, but there was nothing he could say that would make this easier, there was nothing he could do that wouldn't make you hate him. “Take the day if you need to,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that usually offered comfort, though it barely registered through the numbness settling into your bones.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You nodded stiffly, walking into the bullpen to grab your things. Your hands shook, desperate to escape before you completely fell apart in front of everyone.

“Hey,” Emily called out, stepping out of the conference room, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t face them — not now, maybe not ever. You pushed through the door, your footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway as you fled the room, the concerned voices of your teammates fading behind you.

Your heart raced as you moved down the familiar corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walls closed in, the pressure mounting in your chest until it became unbearable. By the time you reached the front doors, you could barely see through the tears, your vision blurred, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

Outside, the cool air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Grey clouds loomed over your head, threatening to spill the same tears that you so desperately tried to hold back.

You stopped as you reached the end of the parking lot, finally letting the sobs you had been holding back tear through you, the grief, the betrayal, all of it crashing over you in waves.

He’s not coming back.

The words repeated in your mind, over and over again, each time cutting deeper than the last.

You had never felt so abandoned, so completely lost. And the worst part was, you had no idea what to do next, no idea who to turn to. Because the only person you truly wanted to turn to was gone from your life.

The walk back to your apartment felt like a blur, the city passing by in a haze of noise and light. You barely registered the world around you — your mind was somewhere else entirely, trapped in the ache of Rossi’s words and the sharp sting of Hotch’s decision. He wasn’t coming back. The words haunted you.

That thought pulsed through your veins, making each step feel heavier than the last. By the time you reached your door, your hands were still trembling as you fumbled with the lock, desperate to get inside and just breathe.

But the second you stepped into your apartment, something felt off.

You paused just inside the doorway, your body instinctively tensing as a strange feeling washed over you. The air felt… different. Still. You took a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the familiar space, searching for something — anything — that looked out of the ordinary, that might explain the knot forming in your stomach.

Then you saw it.

Sitting neatly on the dining table, in plain view, were your spare keys. Next to them was an envelope with your name on it, scrawled in a handwriting only a left-handed person could've written. You recognized it immediately.

Aaron’s.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stood there, frozen in time. Fear and confusion mixed with a sick sense of dread as you stared at the letter, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. How did he get in?

And how had he gotten out? The door had after all been locked.

Your heart pounded from your heart to your ears as you walked toward the table, the floor feeling unsteady beneath your feet. You hesitated for a long moment before picking up the envelope, the paper felt cold and rough between your fingers. The sight of his handwriting was almost too much to bear.

He had been here.

With shaking hands, you slid your finger through the envelope, carefully opening it and removing the letter as if it was the most delicate thing you had ever seen. Your eyes scanned the words, every stroke of the pen, every curve and twist was a painful reminder of the man who had once been yours.

The letter read:

𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔.

𝙸 𝚘𝚠𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝙰𝚄. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 — 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 — 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚢. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕.

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑. 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜, 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 — 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎.

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

— 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗

The letter slipped from your hands, fluttering to the floor as your legs gave out beneath you. The sobs came violently, tearing through you as you collapsed onto the floor of your living room.

This was it. This was the moment where everything you had been holding inside — every ounce of grief, every bit of hope that had clung to your heart over the past year — finally broke free. The pain you had shoved down for so long, the hurt you had tried so hard to hide, came rushing out all at once, too powerful to contain.

You pressed your hands to your face, the tears spilling uncontrollably as your chest heaved with sobs. He had been here. He had come back to your space, to your life, only to leave you with words that felt like daggers in your heart.

He could've waited for you to come home.

He had made his choice. He was leaving you behind. And he had done it with the same precision he used for everything — careful, calculated and always thinking ahead. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect Jack. You would've done the same if you had been in his shoes. But you could hate the way he had left you, hate him for making you feel discarded, like something in his life that could be put away, neatly, and forgotten about without a second thought.

You curled into yourself on the floor, hugging your legs, your body trembling as wave after wave of sorrow washed over you. This wasn’t just about him leaving the BAU. This was about him leaving you. About him cutting you out of his life completely, like you had never mattered at all.

The sobs racked through you, they were raw and unrelenting, as you lay there on the cold floor of your apartment, clutching at the emptiness inside you. You had been holding onto him for so long, for too long, and now he was gone — really gone. And you were left with nothing more than the bitter taste in your mouth and the sound of your own shattered heart echoing in the silence.

Six years had passed since Hotch had walked out of your life.

In that time, you had grown, changed — hardened, perhaps. You’d thrown yourself into your work, climbing the ranks within the BAU. The weight of your experience now rested comfortably on your shoulders. You were no longer the agent who had cried in Rossi’s office all those late nights, the agent who had stood frozen in the conference room all those years ago, devastated by the news of Hotch’s permanent departure.

Now, you were Emily's right hand, trusted to run the team when needed, especially when bureaucracy. Rossi had decided to stop back a bit, taking on fewer cases and focusing more on his writing as he attempted weaning himself away from the team, hoping that this time he truly would be able to retire.

Leading the team had come naturally to you, though some days, when the office was quiet and your mind wandered, you still felt the ache of his absence.

You sighed softly, rubbing the back of your neck as you closed your office door behind you. It was time for the next briefing, and you’d promised Emily you’d call everyone in. The case was urgent — a missing child, time was not on your side — but as you walked toward the conference room, your attention was pulled to the large TV mounted on the wall in the bullpen.

A voice you hadn’t heard in years rang out through the room, smooth and familiar, the same low timbre that had once soothed your heart. The voice that still echoed in your dreams on nights when sleep was particularly elusive.

Aaron.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes snapping to the television screen, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as his face filled the screen. You couldn't tell if it was anxiety or love perhaps, that raced through your veins, the only thing you knew was that you were feeling something. Something you hadn't felt in years.

There he was, standing at a podium, flanked by the American flag, a calm and authoritative presence as he spoke to a crowd. The caption running along the bottom read: Former FBI unit chief Aaron Hotchner Announces Candidacy for a spot in Congress.

Your breath hitched. He looked older. The lines on his face were more defined, his hair tinged with a little more gray, his face was shaven, somethings never change you thought — though you could sense the salt and pepper streaks that had started appearing within it. The years had marked him, but there was still an undeniable strength in his presence. A steady, unshakable resolve that had always been a part of who he was.

And yet, even now, after all this time, he still looked as good as the day you last saw him. Perhaps even more so, with that air of confidence that seemed to come so naturally to him. The sharpness in his gaze, the way he commanded a room — it was all still there, just as you remembered — even through a TV screen.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“…It is with great honor that I announce my candidacy for Congress,” Hotch’s voice continued, steady and firm. “My years of service in the FBI have prepared me to take on the challenges we face as a nation, and I believe it’s time to bring the values of justice and integrity to the forefront of our government. I believe it's time for a change.”

The camera zoomed in on his face, his expression was stoic yet passionate, every word calculated and purposeful. The sight of him brought back a rush of memories — late nights in the office, quiet moments where you’d lean on each other after a case, the warmth of his smile when it was just the two of you, away from the chaos, the comfort of his hugs, the soft and tender feeling of his lips — everything came back.

But those memories were ghosts now. Echoes of a time you had buried deep, right along with the pain of losing him.

A lump formed in your throat as you stood there, rooted in place, watching a man who had once been everything to you stand on that stage, now completely out of reach — yet so close by. He wasn’t the same man you knew all those years ago, you were sure of that. He wasn’t your Hotch anymore. He was something else entirely — a public figure, a leader stepping into the political arena, ready to take on a whole new world — perhaps he never really was yours to begin with.

Your fingers tightened around the folder in your hands, your knuckles turning white with sheer force, the weight of it grounding you as you forced yourself to breathe. You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, maybe. Sadness. Perhaps even a bit of pride, seeing him like this, doing something for the greater good. But mostly, there was a gnawing ache deep in your chest, a familiar one, reminding you of what could have been.

You blinked rapidly, tearing your gaze away from the screen as the room started to blur around you. Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t let yourself fall apart. Not here. Not now.

“Everything okay?” Luke asked, walking past you, his eyes flicking to the TV screen before landing back on you, concern etched on his face. He didn't know much about your relationship with Hotch, only the rumors that had flown between the desks in the bullpen as you'd drowned yourself in work trying to suffocate the pain.

You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you lied, your voice tight. “I’ll be right there. Just… finishing something up.”

Luke gave you a nod, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he headed toward the conference room, leaving you standing there, feeling like the air had been sucked out of the space around you.

You turned back to the screen, just in time to catch the last shot of Hotch stepping down from the podium, the applause from the crowd ringing out as the camera panned away.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he had ever thought about you during these last six years. If he had thought of calling you. If, somewhere in that busy mind of his, you had crossed his thoughts as he prepared to step into this new chapter of his life.

But it didn’t matter now. He had made his choice, and so had you.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and turned away from the screen, pushing down the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. There was a case to solve. There always was. And that was the only thing that mattered now.

“Alright, team,” you called out, walking towards the conference room, your voice steady once again. “Let’s get to work.”

You walked into the conference room, trying to shake off the lingering effects of seeing Hotch on the TV. The rest of the team was already seated as you made it inside, files in hand, waiting for you to start the briefing. Emily glanced at you, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing something was off, but she didn’t press. She trusted you to compartmentalize when it mattered.

You inhaled deeply and projected the case details on the large screen at the front of the room. The image of a young boy's smiling face filled the space, the innocence in his eyes starkly contrasted by the grim reality of his disappearance and the details listed in the case files of similar incidents in the area.

“Alright, everyone,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Our missing person is Ethan Marshall, age 7. He was last seen outside of his school two days ago in a quiet suburb of Portland, Oregon. His parents reported him missing when he didn’t come home after his play date that same day with his best friend from class. There’s been no contact from a potential abductor. No ransom demands. The local authorities are stuck, and they’ve requested our help.”

JJ immediately sat forward, flipping through the case file. “Two days with no leads and no communication? We’re looking at someone who doesn’t need the attention. This could be personal, or we’re dealing with someone who’s done this before and knows what they're doing.”

Tara nodded thoughtfully, her gaze still fixed on Ethan’s photo. “The fact that there’s been no contact suggests they’re not after money. This might be about control, power, or even something darker, like revenge or even fantasy or sexually-driven motives.” You closed your eyes for a brief moment at the thought of what the unsub might put the young boy through. You had to find him, quickly.

You clicked through to the next slide — images of Ethan’s parents, Tim and Julia Marshall. “Ethan’s parents are a stable middle-class family with no criminal records. His mother works as a nurse, and his father is a local contractor. No major incidents or enemies we or they know of. However, Tim Marshall's company was sued about a year ago over a construction job that went south. It’s possible there could be a grudge tied to that.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “But to target a child? It’s a big escalation. If this is about the father’s job, we’d need to look into that lawsuit, but we also need to consider the possibility that the kid was the primary target from the start.”

Emily chimed in, her eyes sharp with focus. “Agreed. We should explore all angles — someone with a grudge against the family, a potential predator, or maybe even someone close to the family. It’s often someone they know.”

Spencer, who had been quietly flipping through his notes, spoke up. “The average age for a child abductor is in their mid-thirties to mid-forties, typically male, though that’s not always the case. Most of them have a history of deviant behavior or crimes against minors. If this is someone who’s taken Ethan to satisfy a fantasy, we might be looking at someone who has done this several times before and is getting better at hiding their tracks.”

Your gaze swept over the team, the weight of the case settling in the room. “We’ve got a few potential leads we need to investigate. JJ, I want you to work on the media angle — see if you can coordinate with local news to get a controlled message out, prepare the Marshalls for a conference. Luke, you and Tara will dig deeper into Tim Marshall’s lawsuit. See if there’s anything there we can work with. Spencer, I want you to start profiling any possible suspects within a fifty-mile radius who fit the age and behavioral profile of past offenders.”

The team nodded, already mentally gearing up for the work ahead. You could see the gears turning in their minds as they absorbed the information and pieced together possible profiles of the unsub.

Finally, you cleared your throat, pushing away the personal turmoil still brewing inside you. “Alright, everyone, we’ve got a missing boy out there, and time is against us. We’ll get more information as we land.”

You snapped the case file shut and looked up at your team, your voice firm. “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed quickly, heading off to gather their gear and finalize last-minute preparations. You lingered behind for a moment, watching the case photos flicker on the screen. Your heart was still heavy from earlier, but you had a job to do. No distractions. No room for the past.

Focus, keep moving, you told yourself, even though the image of Hotch’s face still lingered in the back of your mind, you couldn't afford to spare him another thought.

The case had been wrapped up with surprising speed, and the flight back to Quantico was a welcome relief. You settled into your seat, the hum of the plane a calming reminder of the good you and the team had done today. You felt the exhaustion seep into your bones as the plane roared into the sky. The hum of the engines and the rhythmic sound of the wings provided a backdrop, but you couldn't shake the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

As you glanced around the cabin, you noticed that everyone else was fast asleep, the exhaustion from the long days evident on their faces. Emily’s head rested against JJ’s shoulder, and Spencer was curled up in his seat with a book laid open in his lap, the pages fluttering slightly with the plane’s movement. Luke, too, was snoring softly on the couch, a slight smile on his lips as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. They all looked so peaceful.

But your mind was far from peaceful.

You leaned back in your seat, your thoughts racing back to Hotch’s announcement. You had tried to compartmentalize your feelings during the case, focusing solely on finding Ethan. But now, with the rush of adrenaline faded and the quiet of the plane surrounding you, the weight of it all crashed back in.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice, pulling you from your thoughts. Rossi had moved to sit across from you, concern etched into his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

Before you could filter your thoughts, the words slipped out. “Did you know?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he knew exactly what you were referring to. “Yes, he called me last week to let me know.”

Your heart raced at the revelation. “He called you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Your words came out as a hushed hiss. Rossi knew you hadn't meant it like that, but your frustration of how everything had panned out had never really gone away. He understood why you were feeling like you did.

Rossi leaned back in his seat, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he took in your features. “I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. I thought you’d hear about it when he officially announced it. I thought maybe he'd even reach out himself” Rossi knew Hotch wouldn't reach out to you, even if his life depended on it. He was a proud man, and even if he had been willing to admit his wrongs, he was too scared to face you and realize just how big of a mistake this truly had been.

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But why, Rossi? Why would he do this? He had a life with us — his life in the BAU, with Jack, with me. And now he’s just… gone.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” he replied softly. “But running for Congress might be a way for him to contribute on a larger scale. He wants to help people, to make a difference, just like he did with us. This was a chance for him to step into a role where he could have an even bigger impact than what he had in the bureau. Who knows, maybe we'll see him around someday.”

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill again. “But he didn’t even talk to me about it. It’s like he just vanished. I thought we had something, and then he just left. I felt so abandoned.”

Rossi’s expression turned serious. “You know how Hotch is. He’s always been someone who puts others before himself, even at the cost of his own happiness. I think he truly believes this is what’s best for Jack and for himself. It doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you. In fact, I know he cared deeply about you. It just means he’s trying to figure things out in his own way.”

“But what about me?” You whispered, your voice trembling. “I was left behind, and now I’m still here, trying to navigate everything without him.”

Rossi said your name, leaning forward, his eyes softening. It wasn't as much a reprimand, as it was him trying to stop your spiraling thoughts. You both knew it did you no good. Especially not if the rumors were true and Emily was in line for the open position of Section Chief. Both of you knew what that would mean for you. “He made a choice, yes, but it doesn’t erase what you two had. If anything, it highlights how much he valued that relationship. He wouldn’t have just walked away without thinking it through, even if it seems that way.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find your footing amidst the emotional turmoil. “I just don’t know how to deal with all of this. It feels so final, so absolute. I thought I was ready to move on, but seeing him on TV...”

Rossi reached across the table, his hand resting gently on yours. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be confused. But remember, you’re still part of this team, and we’re here for you, no matter what. You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

You nodded slowly, his words providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos in your heart. “Thanks, Rossi. I appreciate it. I just wish things were different.”

He gave you an understanding smile. “So do I. But whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. And if you need to talk about Hotch, I’m here to listen. Just know that he still cares, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” You knew he was right.

As you both fell into a comfortable silence, you felt a little weight lift from your chest. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers yet, but you had the support of your team. And that was a start.

Weeks drifted by like the clouds hanging in the sky, each day seemingly blending into the next. Hotch’s face became a fixture on the television, the cadence of his voice echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. News reports came almost daily, showcasing him speaking passionately about his vision for change, the values he held dear, and the policies he aimed to implement if elected. The topics ranged from community safety to education reform, and while many praised his ideals, you found yourself seething each time his image flickered across the screen.

He still hadn't contacted you yet.

At first, you tried to engage with the reports, focusing on the substance of his speeches, realizing that despite everything he's policies aligned with your values too, but as each new broadcast emerged, anger simmered beneath the surface. It was infuriating to watch the man you loved stand there, poised and confident — visiting schools, nursery homes, community centers, and everything in between — while you were left with nothing but fragments of the life you had once envisioned together. He seemed so distant, a stranger now, embodying everything you once admired but now felt betrayed by.

Each time you heard his voice, the way he articulated his beliefs with the conviction that had once made your heart race, you locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day, drowning out the world with your frustration and sorrow. Your colleagues exchanged worried glances as you retreated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. They didn’t know the depth of your pain, the feeling of abandonment that clawed at your insides. And you weren't ready for them to know.

On one particularly long evening, the office was silent, the usual buzz of activity having died down as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across your workspace. You sat alone at your desk, the glow of your computer screen the only light illuminating the room. Your heart felt heavy, the emotional burden weighing on you like a thick blanket.

As the clock ticked away, you absentmindedly pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photos. You found it — the last picture you had taken with Hotch and Jack. You hadn't meant to look for it, but something within you had drawn your mind to that particular folder with pictures you never quite had the strength to transfer out of your phone. In the picture, the three of you stood in the park, sunlight filtering through the trees, laughter frozen in time. Hotch’s arm was around you, a protective and loving gesture, while Jack beamed in front of you, holding his soccer ball in his hands, all youthful energy and innocence.

You stared at the image, the way Hotch’s eyes crinkled at the edges with genuine joy, contrasting sharply with the turmoil roiling in your chest. A single tear slid down your cheek, carving a path through the haze of anger and hurt.

“Jack,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the office. He must be close to 18 now. The thought struck you like a lightning bolt. Time had slipped by so swiftly, and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of young man he had become. Had Hotch been there for him? Had he taken the time to show his son what love was? Did they share the same laughter you once did, or had the weight of their decisions overshadowed those moments?

You closed your eyes, allowing your mind to drift back to memories of Jack — the way his laughter filled the room, his playful spirit that lit up the darkest days. The action figures scattered all over your apartment. You remembered the way he would come running into your arms when you stayed over for the weekend, his small frame clinging to you like you were the safest place in the world. You had cherished those moments, and now they felt like distant echoes, fading into the background of your life.

The thought of him growing up without you, of Hotch and Jack creating a new life that you weren’t a part of, twisted in your gut. The anger that had bubbled beneath the surface surged forth again, but this time, it mingled with an overwhelming sense of grief and longing. You felt like a ghost haunting the edges of their lives, watching from afar as they moved on, while you were trapped in a limbo of unresolved feelings.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped the tear from your cheek and opened your eyes. You couldn’t stay like this. You couldn’t let him keep affecting you from a distance, even if it meant facing the truth of your feelings. You needed to regain control, to reclaim your narrative, whatever that might look like.

As you set the phone down, determination coursed through you. You would find a way to confront the anger and pain, to redefine your path without him. But the journey would be a challenge — one you weren’t entirely ready to take, yet knew you had to face.

With a heavy sigh, you stood, ready to leave the remnants of that day behind. You took one last look at the photo on your phone, whispering softly, “I hope you’re happy, Hotch. I really do.”

And with that, you stepped out of the office, leaving for the night, leaving the memories behind, but carrying them with you as you prepared for whatever came next.

A couple of days passed since that late night in your office, the echo of memories lingering like a haunting refrain. You had spent the time focusing on work, throwing yourself into cases, and helping your team. It was a temporary distraction, but every time you caught sight of a news segment featuring Hotch, you felt that familiar ache in your chest. Each broadcast, showcasing his polished demeanor and political aspirations, only stoked the embers of frustration and longing buried deep within you.

Then, one afternoon, as you sat at your desk, your phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number. Your heart raced with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as you opened the text:

“Hey! It’s Jack..... I don't know if you remember me. I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I’d love to see you. We're back in Virginia again. I miss you and wanted to ask if you’d meet with me. Sorry if this is weird, but I hope you’re okay.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was Jack. After all these years, he was reaching out. The memories of his laughter and bright smile flooded back, bringing with them a rush of warmth and bittersweet nostalgia. Without a second thought, you quickly typed out your response.

“Hi, Jack! It’s great to hear from you. I’d love to meet. How about we catch up at the café near the Academy?”

You hit send and felt a wave of nervous excitement wash over you, followed closely by a rush of trepidation. What would he look like? Would he be the same boy you remembered, or had he transformed into someone else entirely different? The thought churned in your stomach as you anxiously awaited his reply.

The day of the meeting arrived, and as you approached the café, your heart raced with anticipation. The small establishment was bustling with life, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. You stepped inside, scanning the room until your eyes landed on him.

Jack sat at a table in the corner, his back to you, and you felt a jolt of recognition. He had grown into a young man, tall and confident, with his hair still matching Haley's, his eyes brighter than ever. But it was the way he carried himself that struck you most — he exuded a maturity that seemed to echo Hotch’s stoic demeanor, yet there was a warmth about him that was uniquely his own. Jack was much more like his mother than he would ever realize.

As he turned to look at you, a broad smile broke across his face, and your heart swelled at the sight. He stood, and for a moment, it felt like time had collapsed, erasing the years that had separated you. You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him, and he embraced you tightly, a mix of nostalgia and warmth flooding over you both.

“Jack,” you whispered, stepping back to get a better look at him. “You’ve grown up so much.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s what happens when you turn eighteen,” he replied, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. You were surprised by how deep his voice had gotten, still recalling the sweet sounds of the 11-year-old boy who had gone into witness protection.

You both settled into your seats, and the initial rush of excitement settled into a comfortable rhythm as you sipped your coffees. “How have you been?” you asked, genuine curiosity etched in your voice.

Jack hesitated, his expression growing serious. “It’s been tough since… since everything that happened. After we left witness protection, it was just Dad and me. We moved a lot at first but eventually settled down in Chicago. Dad tried his best, but it wasn’t easy.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I can only imagine. How is he doing?”

Jack shrugged, glancing down at his cup. “He’s okay, I guess." He mumbled. "He doesn’t talk about you much, I don't think he can bring himself to let the memories resurface. But I can tell he misses you a lot. He still has all the pictures of us together. Sometimes, I catch him looking at them when he thinks I’m not paying attention.” His voice was thick with emotion, and you felt your heartache further.

Had Hotch been as miserable as you?

“I missed you both too,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I don't know if I can bring myself to keep holding on to the past. Not as long as Hotch hasn’t reached out to me, I’m probably not going to contact him. At least not for my own well-being.” You sighed, knowing it was the right decision, but still beating yourself up for listening to your sensibility.

Jack’s gaze met yours, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I get it. I just wanted to see you after all this time. You were like a mother to me after Mom…” His voice trailed off, and the pain in his eyes mirrored your own. You wondered if Hotch had ever talked about Haley, talked about what had happened to his mother, if Jack had ever gotten any answers?

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I could have been there for you both. I loved you both so much.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing your hand. “And that’s why I wanted to meet. I just—” he paused, searching for the right words. “I needed to know if you were okay. It’s been a long time, and you were always there for me.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and relief washing over you. “I’ve missed you more than I can say. You were such a bright light in my life, Jack. It’s been hard without you both.”

The conversation flowed naturally, filled with shared memories and the weight of unspoken emotions. You listened as Jack talked about his life since Hotch had stepped into the world of politics — his own struggles, school, feeling like his friends didn't know the real him, the challenges of growing up without a mother, and the bond he still cherished with his father. It felt like they never left.

“I think Dad thought he was protecting me by not talking about you. But I needed to know about you, how you were doing. I needed to know you were okay.” He confessed, his eyes earnest. “He was always so focused on keeping me safe that he didn’t realize how much I missed you. How much he missed you.”

The warmth of Jack’s words wrapped around you, reassuring you that your bond hadn’t faded, even in the years apart. You shared stories, laughing softly at the memories of days long gone. The sun filtered through the café windows, casting a golden glow over the two of you, illuminating the path of healing you both needed.

As the café buzzed around you, it felt like a sanctuary, a safe space where the past and present intertwined, reminding you of the love that had once filled your life. This was a step forward, a chance to heal the wounds that had lingered for too long.

In that moment, sitting across from Jack, you realized that while the scars of the past might never fully fade, the possibility of rebuilding a future was within reach. Maybe not with Hotch, but potentially regain contact and a relationship with Jack.

“Let’s not let this much time pass before we see each other again,” you suggested, your heart lifting at the idea of keeping this connection alive.

“Definitely. You can count on it,” Jack promised, and as you both exchanged a smile, the weight of your shared history felt a little lighter, the hope for what was to come a little brighter.

The sun streamed through the windows of your office, casting a gentle glow on the stacks of case files and the photographs of the BAU team adorning your walls. You leaned back in your chair, still buzzing from your meeting with Jack, your heart lighter after the emotional reunion. The warmth of yesterday's trip to the café lingered in your mind, a comfort amidst the chaotic world of profiling and criminal behavior.

Just as you began to focus on the case at hand, there was a soft knock on your door. You looked up to see Emily stepping in, a slight frown creasing her forehead. She crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“Hey,” she said, her tone catching your attention. “I just got off the phone with the Director. He wants the BAU to assist with a case involving a politician in Congress.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Congress, knowing potentially what that could mean, and you held your breath, bracing for the inevitable connection. “Do they have any details yet?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching yours. “Not much. It seems there’s been some suspicious activity surrounding him, but the Director wanted us to prioritize this. I thought I should let you know, especially given the possibility of running into Hotch.”

You felt a pang in your chest at the mention of his name, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. “So, we’re not profiling Hotch, then?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady with a joke, masking the swirl of emotions rising within you.

“No, he’s not involved at all with this case actually,” Emily clarified, crossing her arms. “But with him being in the spotlight, there’s a chance we might see him around, especially if the investigation takes us to other parts of D.C. or if he’s involved in any press events while we're at Congress.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. “Right. I guess I should prepare myself for that possibility.” Your heart raced at the thought, the image of him on the television still fresh in your mind. The last few weeks of seeing him on the news had stirred up a mix of longing and unresolved feelings, and now the idea of encountering him face-to-face was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Are you okay with this?” Emily asked, her gaze softening with concern. “I know seeing him might bring up some stuff.”

You took a deep breath, weighing your emotions. “I’ll be fine. I have to be. We have a job to do, and I can’t let my feelings get in the way of that.” You tried to sound confident, but uncertainty crept in.

Emily smiled, a mix of support and understanding shining in her eyes. “I know you’re strong. Just remember, we’re in this together. And if it gets overwhelming, I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Em. I appreciate that.” You felt a swell of gratitude for her unwavering support. “Let’s get the team together and see what we can dig up on this case.”

Emily nodded, pushing herself up from the chair. “I’ll gather everyone for a briefing. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As she left your office, you couldn’t shake the feeling of impending change in the air. The thought of the case intertwined with the possibility of seeing Hotch again sent your mind racing. There was a part of you that yearned to see him, to hear his voice again, but another part was afraid of what it might mean for the rehabilitation of your heart shattered.

After a few moments, you collected yourself and headed to the conference room, determined to focus on the task ahead. You were a profiler, after all, and you wouldn’t let personal feelings cloud your judgment. But as you stepped into the room and looked at your team, the looming presence of Hotch hung over you like a shadow.

The bustling atmosphere of Congress was overwhelming, the echo of voices mingling with the rustle of papers and the faint sounds of distant conversations, as crowds of people moved past you every single second. Somehow you hadn't thought the building would be this busy.

You moved through the maze of hallways, the weight of the case hanging over you like a heavy cloud. After an intense briefing with the team and several hours of sifting through documents, you decided a quick coffee break was necessary. It was a small reprieve, a moment to gather your thoughts before diving back into the investigation.

As you stepped into the crowded café, the rich aroma of coffee filled your senses, providing a brief comfort. As you waited for your order you glanced around, noting the throngs of aides and politicians, some deep in conversation, others lost in their phones. After what felt like an eternity, you finally received your drink, you ordered a cappuccino, absently stirring the foam as you made your way back toward the senator’s office.

Navigating the marble corridors was not easy, you focused, trying to remember the way you had come from. The noise of the café faded behind you as you moved further away, and the hum of energy around you began to fade as you thought about the case details you had just discussed with your team. But as you rounded a corner, lost in thought, everything changed in an instant.

There, just a few feet away, stood Aaron Hotchner. Your Aaron.

Time seemed to freeze. The world around you faded into a blur, and all you could see was him. He looked older nothing like he had looked on the TV, more refined, better even, yet he still carried that familiar intensity in his dark eyes. It was as if the years had melted away, and you were right back to those last moments before he disappeared from your life. Your heart raced, the mix of emotions overwhelming as you locked eyes with him.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved, caught in an electric silence that stretched between you. The familiar ache of longing hit you hard in the chest, twisting your stomach into knots. Memories rushed back — laughter, warmth, the comfort of his presence — but so did the pain of his absence and the betrayal you felt when he left.

In your shock, you didn’t realize your hand had loosened its grip on the coffee cup until it slipped from your fingers. The porcelain collided with the polished floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The hot liquid spilled out, soaking into the pristine marble and staining the floor with brown patches.

“Oh God,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You stepped back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.

Hotch said your name, his voice low and steady, yet laced with an emotion that mirrored your own shock. He took a cautious step toward you, as if afraid you might disappear again. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” you managed, your voice trembling as you fought to regain your composure. But the words felt inadequate, too mundane for the weight of the moment. A wave of emotion crashed over you, and the dam holding back your feelings began to crumble. “Do you even realize what you put me through, Aaron? Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if you were dead or alive? How many times I replayed those last moments in my mind, wishing I could have changed things?”

Hotch’s expression shifted, pain flashing across his face. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was best for Jack!”

“Best for Jack?” you repeated incredulously, your voice rising with each word. “What about me? What about my feelings? You just left! You abandoned me without so much as a goodbye! I had to rebuild my life without you, and all you can say is you were trying to protect him. It doesn’t make any sense!”

He took a step forward, frustration mingling with sadness in his eyes. “I had no choice! I had to keep you both safe! Do you really think I wanted to leave you behind? You think it was easy for me? It wasn’t! I’ve thought about you every single day!”

The sincerity in his voice pierced through your anger, but you couldn’t let it go. “It’s too little, too late, Aaron! You can’t just show up out of nowhere after six years and expect everything to be okay. You made your choice!”

“I never stopped loving you!” he shouted, his voice filled with raw emotion. The admission hung between you, heavy and charged, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You stepped closer, eyes locked onto his, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. “How can you say that? You left me! You made a choice, and you chose to protect your son over me. I had to learn to live with that — learn to live without you!”

“And it killed me! I had to protect my family, and in doing so, I destroyed my own happiness. But you have to know, you were always in my heart. I never wanted to hurt you!” His voice softened slightly, the intensity shifting to desperation. “I thought you’d move on, that you’d find someone better who could give you what you deserve.”

“Better?” you scoffed, your anger giving way to an ache in your chest. “You think I wanted anyone else? No one could ever compare to you, Aaron. I spent years waiting for you, hoping you’d come back, that we could fix this.”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Then why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you try to find me?”

“Because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me!” You shot back, tears of frustration burning your eyes. “I had to respect your choice, but I thought you’d at least have the decency to contact me after everything we went through together!”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger! I thought it was for the best!” His voice rose again, echoing through the hallway, but there was a desperate plea beneath his anger.

“Best for who, Aaron?” you demanded, your emotions spilling over. “You think running for Congress is going to fix everything? You think I want to see you on TV every day, talking about policies and values when all I want is to talk to you about us?”

Before you could finish your thought, he closed the gap between you in an instant, grasping your arms gently but firmly. The intensity in his eyes held you captive, and then he kissed you. It was a collision of pent-up emotions, a heated, desperate kiss that spoke of everything unsaid. Your lips pressed against his, teeth grazing against teeth, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

You lost yourself in the kiss, a whirlwind of anger, longing, and the familiar warmth that had always existed between you. It felt like no time had passed at all, yet every moment you had spent apart surged back, filling the space with an urgency you hadn’t felt in years.

Without breaking the kiss, you found yourselves moving, bodies instinctively drawn toward his office down the hall, Hotch leading the way. The door stood ajar, but you barely registered it as you stumbled inside, Hotch pulling you in after him. He nudged the door shut with his foot, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence as he pressed you against it.

You barely noticed the cluttered desk or the framed photographs lining the walls. All that mattered was the heat radiating from him, the way his hands cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. He kissed you again, deeper this time, a fierce claim that made your heart race.

With each touch, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, leaving only the intoxicating rush of being so close again. You could feel the weight of his desperation, the years of longing that had built up between you, igniting a fire within you that had never truly gone out.

Finally, as you both breathed heavily against each other, he stepped back slightly, just enough to turn the lock behind him. The finality of the action made your heart pound even harder, the implications of this moment crashing down around you.

Before you knew it, Hotch crashed his lips into yours once again.

“Goddamn it, you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered into your neck, as he moved his hand under your skirt, you could feel his smirk against your skin. He was kissing you again, his fingers sliding up your body until they reached your breasts. You arched back into him with a soft sigh of pleasure, your hips rolling against his growing erection. You could feel how much he wanted you and it made you even more desperate for him.

You broke away from the kiss, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Fuck me,” you said your voice sounded rough, still thick with lust from the kiss. You could see the flicker of pleasure that danced across his face, the fire burning in his eyes when he heard your words.

He didn’t speak though, he just pushed you back against his desk and as your ass met the wooden edge he lifted you up onto it by your things. The movement made your skirt ride up further, you tried to pull it back down out of instinct, but Hotch stopped you with a firm grip on your wrist. You gasped when his hands moved to grab the edge of your panties as he ripped them off. That had always been his favorite thing to do. Nothing had changed.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he had two fingers buried deep inside your cunt. “Fuck,” you hissed against his lips. He added a third finger and you gasped, your nails clawing into his back as you braced yourself, pleasure radiating through your body. You were already close to coming, desperate from the lack of a man's touch, he’d only been fingering you for a few seconds, but it was a much-needed release that you hadn't realized you had needed. He was determined to make you cum, was going to make you cum in his office, on his desk. You truly hoped that his door was locked.

Hotch leaned in and kissed you again, sucking at your bottom lip and then moving down to your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you moaned in response. Your legs spread around him and he groaned as you rocked your hips against his hand, trying so desperately to chase your release.

“Fuck, I need to get inside you,” he muttered against your skin. "I need to feel that pussy again. My pussy." He growled.

You felt a shiver run through your body at his words. “Please,” you begged, “now.”

You didn’t know if you unbuttoned his pants or he did, but somehow they were already around his ankles and he was pushing into you. His cock pulsed as he bottomed out, clouding your vision with the pure bliss from finally feeling him again. You let out a breathless moan as he stretched you out. It had been way too long since you'd felt the touch of a man you thought. His touch. Your hands slid down his back trying to pull him closer in an attempt to push him deeper inside of you. He groaned as he started to thrust into you. You felt every ridge of his cock as he moved.

The rhythm was hard and fast, your skin slapping together in loud claps. Your pussy was dripping, slick with wetness, your muscles clenching around him with every thrust as if you were trying to lock him in place inside your heat. You cried out when he pushed you down flat on his desk, his arms wrapped around your body as he started fucking you with the raw essence of an animal. The pleasure ran through your head and you nearly came right there.

Hotch grabbed your hair and yanked your head back. “You’re going to cum on my cock, aren’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed, trying to move your hips under him. Your teeth gritted, eyes rolling back into your head as your breathing sped up, almost hyperventilating from the immense pleasure.

“You like being fucked on my desk, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” you moaned.

He slammed into you and then stilled. You whined in frustration as he held still inside of you. “Tell me. Use your words!”

“Yes sir,” you agreed, hoping it would get him to start moving again. It worked like a charm and he quickly slammed into you once more before fucking you into oblivion again. Hotch hit your G-spot with every thrust, you could feel your orgasm building up inside, the knot tightening, dangerously close to snapping in half. You felt him swell inside of you, his cock pushing into you harder and faster than before, as his thighs started vibration, you knew he was close too.

He leaned down over you and kissed you as you came. He swallowed down your cries as his hips stuttered. His cock felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt so good as it sent you into a new level of pleasure. He came hard, hot liquid filling you up, you clung to his shoulders and cried out again as he groaned into your mouth.

Hotch pulled away slowly, his breath ragged as he held you close for a moment longer. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as he took a step back, you felt the loss of his warmth immediately. He gently helped you shift into a sitting position on the edge of his desk, his hands steadying you as you settled.

He moved to stand between your legs, the space filled with unspoken words and the weight of years apart. His eyes searched yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart flutter. Hotch cupped your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. The intimacy of the gesture, so simple yet so profound, stirred something deep within you. It felt as though he had never left, as if no time had passed at all since that fateful day in his office so many years ago where he had just been... gone.

He pressed tender kisses to your lips, each one a promise, a reassurance that this moment was real. You leaned into him, surrendering to the familiar comfort of his presence as you wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head against his chest. You let the tears that had been building up finally spill over. They rolled down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the heat that still pulsed between you.

“I… I met up with Jack,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, laden with emotion. The moment hung heavy in the air. You could see the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by understanding. “He’s grown up so much. He’s… he's an adult now.”

Hotch’s expression softened, a mix of pride and sadness flickering across his features. “He’s always been a remarkable kid,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad you two were able to reconnect.”

“I missed you both so much,” you confessed, the weight of your words crashing over you like a wave. The years of longing, the nights spent wondering about him and Jack, came rushing back. “It’s been so hard, Aaron. Watching you on TV, hearing you talk about your values and the future... all I wanted was to be a part of that future again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. I wanted to reach out so many times, but I didn’t know if I was worth it to you. I thought you’d moved on. Didn't want to disrupt your life.”

You shook your head, a mix of determination and vulnerability surging within you. “I never moved on. I just learned to live without you. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Hotch stepped closer again, his hands still cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Then let’s try again,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice melting the last remnants of doubt lingering in your heart. “Let’s see if we can make this work, for us and for Jack.”

You swallowed hard, hope igniting within you like a flame. “I want that,” you whispered, a smile breaking through your tears. “I really want that.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours once more, the kiss gentle but filled with an undercurrent of promise. It was a reaffirmation of everything you both had lost and everything you hoped to regain. In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the world outside, you felt a sense of peace and belonging you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes bright with determination. “We’ll figure this out together.”

With your heart full and tears still glistening in your eyes, you nodded. For the first time in years, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. The future ahead felt uncertain, but for the first time, it was a future you were excited to face — together.

@vikingstoner69

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aconitum009 · 1 month ago

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Noah's urethral birth

A/N: It's a mpreg birth story with long labor. As mentioned in the title, this is going to be a urethral/penis birth. Refrain from reading if you are not into it or it's too graphic for you. Characters, places, and stories are all imaginary.

word count: 4k+

Story:

In this realm, Kunki has great influence and is highly respected by society because of that. He is a cold and sharp man. He was roaming around the streets alone when he saw a guy being dragged out of the hospital and thrown on the streets by the guards. He was full-term pregnant. He just lowered his head, and sat leaning back in the alley. Kunki approaches him.

“What’s your name?” Kunki’s voice cold.

He noticed Kunki’s presence and stared with his glazed eye, covering his pregnant belly.

“..It’s Noah. Master…please, can you give me some money? I really need some.” He glances towards the hospital.

Kunki observes him up and down, "I'll give you money, if you come with me."

Noah hesitates, glancing nervously between his stern face and his swollen belly. "With all due respect, Master, I... I don't go with strangers." His voice trembles slightly, defensive hands cradling his midsection protectively.

"Are you rejecting me now?" Kunki ask. He’s voice ice cold.

Noah freezes, eyes wide. "No, no! I'm not rejecting you. I just... I don't sell my body, Master. I'm a man. I have pride. Plus," He swallows hard, lowering his voice, "I'm heavily pregnant”

"Who said I want your body? You look ready to pop. I'll deliver your baby, that's it," Kunki says blankly.

Noah stares at him, shock written all over his face. "You... You're serious?" He laughs softly, disbelieving.

"Are you coming with me? Or do you wanna pop in the middle of the street?" Kunki’s voice eerily cold.

Noah closes his eyes briefly, knowing he has no choice. "Fine. Anything's better than giving birth in an alley." He pushes up from his seat with some difficulty. "Lead the way, Master..”

Kunki takes a glance at his belly and starts moving.

Noah follows slowly, waddling slightly. His belly is so distended that it seems like the baby could spill out at any moment. He breathes heavily, hand resting on his lower back. "How far is it?”

"Keep walking.”

Noah follows obediently, but his breath grows more labored with each step. "You know, most people don't offer to help without wanting something in return." He pants slightly, wiping sweat from his brow. "What's your game, Sir?”

"I just want to witness your delivery" Kunki says blankly.

Noah stops abruptly, turning to face him with wide eyes. "You... You just want to watch me give birth? Like some kind of... medical curiosity?" He sounds both offended and confused. His hand instinctively moves to protect his belly. "You are really messed up.”

Kunki gives him a stern look, "How am I supposed to help you give birth if I'm not watching it?”

Noah scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to walk slowly beside him. "Right, because that makes perfect sense. You want a front-row seat to a pregnant man’s most vulnerable moment." His tone drips with sarcasm. "Tell me, does witnessing a birth get you off?”

Kunki ignores him and tells him to get inside. They reach his private space, a secluded place with no one around. There are large walls but no ceiling. They get inside, and Kunki locks the gate.

Noah enters slowly, wincing slightly. The baby presses heavily on his lower back. "Damn, this place is huge." He looks around, eyes widening when he sees the open ceiling. "No walls?"

"It’s my personal space. Nobody knows about it. You are the first guest" Kunki says as he unroll a soft mattress on the floor that one can lie or sit.

Noah watches carefully, his expression thoughtful. "You're not what I expected." He mutters softly. "Most would throw me on the ground and have their way. You... You spread out a mattress like you're preparing a bed.”

"Are you thinking of birthing on the floor then" Kunki says nonchalantly, his voice cold and calm.

Noah glances at the floor, then back to the mattress, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "Guess not." With a groan, he lowers himself onto the mattress, immediately looking more comfortable. "Happy now, Master? The pregnant man is properly situated for your viewing pleasure.”

Kunki looks at his gravid belly. His gaze unreadable, "It looks ready to pop.”

"It is. Too ready, really. The doctors refused to help when they found out I couldn't pay." He strokes his belly absently. "I'm actually surprised I'm still walking. Could go into labor any minute now." His voice shakes slightly, betraying his fear of what's to come.

"Hmm. I can see" Kunki goes to an almirah and rummages for something. "Take off your clothes.”

"W-What?" Noah stutters, eyes widening. "You can't be serious. I'm not going to give birth... Naked." He swallows hard, his heart racing. "Please, just let me keep my clothes on. It's cold.”

Kunki looks at him coldly, "It’s not cold. The sun is very bright in the sky. And you need to be naked to give birth. Be logical."

Noah hesitates, looking up at the bright sky visible through the open ceiling. "Fine," he mutters, his voice barely audible. He starts to undress slowly, wincing with each movement as his belly makes simple tasks more difficult. "Happy now?”

Kunki looks at him, his belly gravid, being full term. He looks at his puffy manhood. "Your type give birth through dick, right?”

"Yes," Noah hisses through gritted teeth as he looks down at his swollen belly hiding his manhood completely. "..It swells during pregnancy to accommodate the baby's head.”

“Hmm..”

Noah raises an eyebrow, his breath hitching slightly as he shifts on the mattress. "Then you know I can't just push it out like a female. It's going to be... messy." He looks down at his belly, his voice softening. "And painful.”

"Brace yourself if you know that much" Kunki says coldly as he starts preparing for other stuffs.

Noah watches him move around, preparing things he can't see from his position on the mattress. "You're really going to make me do this, aren't you? Give birth like an animal in the dirt." He swallows hard.

"This is the cleanest you could ever afford.”

Noah flinches at his cold words, his lower lip trembling slightly. "I suppose you're right," he murmurs, looking down at his naked, vulnerable body. "At least I won't be lying in my own filth when the contractions start." He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"How are you feeling?” Kunki asks as he puts some towels nearby.

"My back hurts. My legs are swollen. And... and I feel pressure down there." Noah shifts uncomfortably, his hands instinctively moving to his belly as if to protect the baby inside. "The doctors said first labors are usually long and painful." His voice cracks slightly on the last word.

"It is.." Kunki starts making fire in a distance, to boil water.

Noah watches as he moves around, his eyes following Kunki’s every action. He shifts again, wincing at a sudden twinge in his belly.

As the fire grows and the water begins to heat, Noah's breathing starts to change. He inhales sharply through his nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a contraction hits him. "Aaahh..." He lets out a soft, pained cry, his fingers digging into his belly.

Kunki kneels in front of him, "How’s the condition?"

Noah doubles over, clutching his belly with both hands. "It hurts..." He gasps out, his face contorting in pain. "The baby's moving differently. I can feel it kicking harder, lower..." He trails off, another wave of pain hitting him.

"Hmm. It's starting. Bear with it”

He laughs bitterly, his eyes squeezing shut as another contraction comes. "Easy for you to say," He grits his teeth. "You're not the one with something the size of a watermelon trying to squeeze out of your dick." He hisses out a breath, his body going rigid with pain.

"Save your energy.” Kunki says coldly.

Noah’s inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth between contractions. As the minutes tick by, the pain becomes more intense, stealing his breath and making him feel lightheaded. "It's getting worse...”

Kunki put his hand over his pregnant belly.

Noah's belly is rock hard and taut under his touch, the muscles contracting powerfully. "Ahh, fuck! Don't touch me there!" He cries out, his hips bucking reflexively away from his hand. But then he collapses back onto the mattress, exhausted and sweating.

Kunki starts pressing around on his bump softly.

Noah lets out a strangled noise as he presses on his belly, the sensation overwhelmingly painful. He lays there panting, his eyes closed tightly.

Kunki press around on his belly to feel the baby’s position.

"Mmmph..." He whimpers softly as his hands move over his distended belly, feeling the movements of the baby beneath his skin. "It's moving around..." he manages to say between heavy breaths. "The doctor said it was engaged last week.”

"Hmm. It's head down, in good position.”

"Really?" Noah opens his eyes and looks at him for a moment before another contraction hits. "Fuck..." His voice breaks as the pain washes over him. "How do you know so much about..." He trails off, another contraction stealing his words.

"I just know." Kunki starts slapping softly the sides of his belly, around his baby, so the baby keeps in the straight position.

Noah lets out a startled yelp as his hand slaps his belly, the sudden movement causing the baby to shift slightly. But it seems to work, as the next contraction feels like the baby is pressing down more firmly against his cervix. "Ahh! That actually helped..." He pants, surprised.

"Hmm.." Kunki stops and heads toward the fire.

The pain is really getting intense now. "I feel like it's getting worse... Aaahh!" Another contraction hits, and Noah curls in on himself. "Ahhnnn..." he moans loudly, clutching at his swollen belly as the contraction peaks. "Fuck fuck fuck..." He pants rapidly, trying desperately to ride out the pain. Suddenly, he feels a strange, urgent pressure bearing down on his dick. "Wait, wait...”

Kunki was preparing towel and hot water, "What happened??”

"I... I think my water just broke..." Noah looks up at him with wide, panicked eyes as he feels a gush of warm fluid between his legs. "And... and something's pushing down there... like the baby is trying to come out already!" He starts to hyperventilate.

Kunki sees the water dripping. "Don't push yet. Let me see.”

"I-I'm not trying to push!" He exclaims, his voice shaking with fear and pain. "It just feels like everything is... moving on its own." He spreads his legs wider, looking down at his distended belly and the clear fluid pooling beneath him. "Hurry, please...”

"Take deep breaths" Kunki positions himself between his legs. "Your manhood has not expanded enough to fit the baby inside it. You have to hold.”

"How much does it need to expand?" Noah asks between deep breaths, only halfway listening as another contraction bears down on him. "God, it burns..." He spreads his legs even wider, giving Kunki a full view of his puffy manhood.

"Expand enough for the baby to drop inside it," Kunki says as he brings a hot towel and massages Noah’s manhood with it. Noah whimpers, feeling his dick starts to tingle and swell slightly under his touch.

"Relax, it's an automated process of birth. It will happen naturally. Give it time," Kunki says as he presses the hot towel over his manhood.

"Ngh... it feels like it's getting bigger..." Noah pants heavily, his manhood starting to engorge. Another contraction hits, and he cries out, feeling the throbbing in his groin synchronizing with the pressure in his belly. "Aahh! It's...”

"Keep breathing," Kunki says as he massages Noah’s lower abdomen.

Heavy panting mingles with painful moans as Noah feels his manhood swelling dramatically. The heat from the towel sends waves of tingling sensation straight to his core. "Ahhhnnn... It feels so weird... like everything's getting so sensitive..." He pants heavily, his manhood now throbbing and fully expanded. "Oh god... I can feel it... the baby is pressing...”

Kunki put away the hot towel from his manhood. "Relax and breath". He can feel Noah’s belly tighten under his hands.

"I'm trying... ngh... trying to breathe!" Noah moans, arching his back slightly as another powerful contraction hits. His fully expanded puffy manhood stands tall and proud, dripping cum, "The baby's dropping... I can feel its head...”

Kunki can see Noah’s groin and manhood’s upper side are getting fuller means the baby's head has reached there. "Keep breathing, it's happening.”

"Aaahh! It's burning so bad... my insides are stretching..." Noah pants heavily, gripping the sheets beneath him. "The head... it's really dropping... nnn..." His fully expanded manhood throbs visibly as the baby's head applies pressure to his perineum.

Kunki wets the towel in hot water and press it softly around his manhood. "I know. Let it happen naturally. Don't push it”

"Nhn... the heat is helping... but it's so painful..." Noah bites his lip, feeling the baby's head dropping into his dick. His manhood continues to leak cum. It’s now dripping onto his belly. "The head... it dropped... ahhhh...”

Kunki can see Noa’s manhood is getting puffier with the baby inside it. "Breath. Keep breathing. Let the baby drop completely inside your manhood first.”

"Fuck... it feels like there's a bowling ball in my manhood..." Noah tries to breathe through the intense pressure and strange sensation of having the baby's head inside his manhood. His fully expanded member continues to leak cum, becoming even larger and more engorged. Kunki keeps rubbing it softly with hot towel.

"Aaahh... that feels nice... but ..." He whimpers, his entire body trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure. His manhood is now at its maximum size, completely stuffed with the baby's head and upper body.

"Okay okay, try to hold. Hold for now. Your manhood is stuffed completely.” Kunki says calmly despite the tension.

"Mhm... God..." Noah leans back, trying to hold still despite the intense pressure. His fully engorged manhood is throbbing visibly with the baby safely inside. "It's so full... I can feel it moving around in there... nnnggh...”

Kunki touches the top of Noah’s manhood, the hole. It's puffy red but not fully dilate. "Okay, hold for now. Your hole is only 3 cm dilated. Keep breathing”

Noah manages to nod, taking deep breaths as instructed. His puffy, red hole twitches slightly around the baby's head, still not fully dilated. "Three centimeters? Isn't that... slow?" He pants, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming fullness in his manhood.

"it is. It's your first delivery. Obviously things will take time. Bear with it. It's going to be a while.”

Noah sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Right, of course. First time and all..." He takes another shuddering breath, his abs contracting involuntarily around the bulge of his stuffed manhood. "God, is it supposed to feel this full?

Kunki rubs his lower abdomen to relieve some pressure. Noah hisses in relief as he rub his lower abdomen. His manhood remains fully stuffed, the baby's head and upper body taking up all the space inside. His hole is still only 3 cm dilated, slowly stretching around the baby's head.

Kunki wets the towel in hot water again and puts it around his manhood. He keeps massaging his lower abdomen. "Keep breathing”

Noah leans into the comforting touch, breathing deeply as another wave of discomfort passes through him. The hot towel wrapped around his immensely swollen manhood brings some relief, but the baby's presence remains acutely felt. "Breathing... yeah..." He mutters, squirming slightly.

As the next wave of labor hits, Noah's entire body tenses up. His manhood throbs in sync with his distended belly as the muscles there tighten and relax rhythmically. He gasps, clutching at the sheets as he struggles to breathe through the intense sensation.

Kunki touches the head of his manhood, "4 cm. Still too far”

Through gritted teeth, Noah manages to glance down. Seeing the dilation progress to 4 centimeters only makes him whimper in frustration. "Too far... I know..." He pants, his body shaking with another contraction. "It's still so full...”

"Relax and keep breathing. How are you feeling?”

"Ugh... it's... it's intense," Noah manages to say between breaths. "Every contraction feels like the baby is trying to burst out of my manhood. It's so full and tight, and every time I feel a contraction, it’s like the baby is pushing harder against my insides.”

"Hmm. it's normal. Try not to push though. We don't want you to tear apart.”

Noah nods weakly, gripping the sheets tighter as another contraction ripples through him. "Right, right... no pushing." He bites his lip, trying desperately not to bear down despite the urge. "God, if I didn't know better, I'd think my manhood might explode...”

Kunki takes another towel to clean up around Noah. Noah watches him move around, appreciative of his care. The hot water on his manhood feels heavenly amidst the intense pressure and pain. As another contraction hits, he unwittingly lets out a long, low moan. "The baby's moving more... I can feel it kicking inside...” Noah shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a position that alleviates some of the pressure from his enormously swollen manhood. Each tiny movement sends jolts of sensation through him, the baby's vigorous kicks adding to the overwhelming stimulation. "When will it dilate more?”

Kunki puts his fingers inside his manhood's hole. "Six. There's progress. Give it more time.”

Noah gasps as he feels his fingers slip inside his dilated hole, the sudden intrusion making his entire body clench. His manhood throbs around Kunki’s fingers, the walls spasming as another contraction washes over him. "Six... that's... that's a lot, right?”

"Right. But it needs more" Kunki massages his lower abdomen. Noah lets out a shaky breath, his whole body going limp with exhaustion against the bed. "More... I'm so full already..." His manhood aches and pulses with each contraction, the baby's head creating intense pressure against his entrance. "How much bigger does it need to be?”

"Almost 10 cm. It will happen soon. Keep breathing," Kunki brings some water to him. Noah gulps down the water gratefully, his dry throat burning. As he swallows, another contraction hits, and he has to pause, panting through the intense pressure building inside him. "10 cm... That sounds huge... Will it hurt more when it's that big?”

"We have to see." Kunki put away the glass and goes back between his legs, "Seven.”

Noah’s eyes widen as Kunki announces the dilation, his body instinctively trying to push despite his earlier warning. He grips the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Seven... that's almost there..." He lets out a whimper as another contraction hits, his manhood throbbing violently.

"Do not push. Breath through it.”

Noah inhales sharply, trying to follow his instructions as another powerful contraction wracks his body. He can feel the baby's head pressing against his stretched hole, the pain becoming unbearable. He pants, his body trembling. "It's too much...”

Kunki puts a hot towel above Noah’s lower abdomen. And with another, he rubs his manhood. Noah moans softly at the sensation of the hot towel on his lower abdomen and the gentle rubbing of his swollen manhood. The warmth helps to ease some of the tension, but the contractions continue to intensify. "Ahh... that feels... a little better," he admits between ragged breaths. He looks down at his manhood, watching as it pulses and throbs with each contraction. The sight is both mesmerizing and terrifying. "I can feel the baby's head... it's right there..." He lets out a low groan, his body shaking with the effort to not push.

"Yeah, it is.”

Noah nods, his breath coming in short gasps. The contractions are now almost continuous, and he can feel the baby's head pressing firmly against his entrance. Kunki mops some of his sweat from his neck and forehead, "You will soon be fully dilated. Try to relax.”

Noah leans into his touch, finding a small measure of comfort in the cool cloth against his heated skin. His body trembles with the effort to relax, but the relentless contractions make it nearly impossible. "Relax... right..." He lets out a shaky laugh, his voice strained.

As Kunki positions himself between his legs again, Noah's breath catches in his throat. He spreads his thighs wider instinctively, giving him a better view of his stretched and throbbing opening. "Ah..." He bites his lip, trying to stay still despite the intense urge to push.

"Try to relax. It's too tense.”

Noah takes a deep breath and forces his muscles to relax as much as possible, though every fiber of his being wants to push the baby out. "I'm trying... it's just... He whimpers as another contraction hits, making his opening twitch and contract rhythmically. His eyes widen as he feels the constant pressure and pain of the contractions. He can no longer tell where one ends and another begins. "They're... they're non-stop... ahh!" He arches his back, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. His face contorts with pain as he bears down involuntarily, his body pushing against the baby's head despite his attempts to hold back. "I-I can't... I can't stop pushing..." He looks at Kunki with panic-stricken eyes, his voice breaking. "It hurts so much...”

Kunki’s hand above Noah’s manhood hole. "Relax, relax Noah.”

Noah feels his hand hovering above his throbbing opening, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He tries desperately to relax his muscles, but the overwhelming urge to push is too strong. "I-I'm trying... ahh!" His body convulses with another powerful contraction. He grunts softly as the contractions milk his swollen manhood, pre-ejaculate leaking out of the tip. His body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead. He whimpers softly, his lower abdomen hard and taut. He takes shallow breaths. His body is shaking with the effort to relax his muscles. "I-I'm trying... but it feels like my body wants to push so badly..." He looks down at his distended belly, watching it contract rhythmically. His eyes widen as he feels a particularly strong contraction. "Ahhh... I can feel the head... it's right there, right at the entrance..." He lets out a low moan, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. "I can't... I can't keep from pushing much longer...”

Kunki inserts two fingers inside his manhood's hole. "Okay, Okay, it's 10 cm". Kunki pulls out the fingers and put away the towels from his lower abdomen and manhood. "I want you to push with next contractions, but not so hard.”

Noah lets out a relieved cry as he hears the words "10 cm." His body, which had been fighting against the urge to push, now has permission to do what it desperately needs. He nods vigorously, his breath coming in short gasps. "Okay... okay... I can push...”

Kunki rubs around his puffy hole and expanded manhood. Noah gasps as he feels his fingers rubbing around his sensitive hole and manhood. The touch is a little too intense for him, his voice cracks as he tries to push gently with the next contraction, his face contorting with the effort. "Aah... it's coming... the head is crowning...”

"Yes. Push!”

With a choked moan, Noah bears down, pushing with all his strength while trying to keep it controlled as instructed. His hole stretches obscenely around the baby's head as it begins to crown. "Oh god... it's... ahh!... it's really coming out!” He throws his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as the baby's head slowly emerges from his manhood's hole. The stretching and burning is unlike anything he's ever felt, his muscles quivering with the effort. He pants heavily, his body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Push Noah. Keep pushing!”

"I-I'm trying!" Another powerful contraction hits, and with a guttural moan, Noah bears down again. The baby's head finally pops out completely, stretching his opening painfully wide. He immediately feels lighter, but the relief is temporary as another urge hits him. "Oh god...”

"The head is fully out! Take breaths. Take a break and relax.”

Noah collapses back against the mattress, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Tears stream down his face as he stares down at the baby's head protruding from his manhood's hole. He feels exhausted but relieved that the hardest part is over. "It's... it's out...”

Kunki’s hand cupping the baby head to guide it safely. "Breath, breath.”

Noah nods, focusing on his breathing as instructed. His body trembles with exertion and relief, but he knows the process isn't over yet. He takes deep breaths, trying to relax his muscles even as another contraction begins to build. As the next contraction hits, Noah lets out a loud moan. He pushes again, his body shaking with the effort. The baby's shoulders start to emerge, stretching him even wider. Tears of pain and relief mix on his face as he feels.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Keep pushing.”

Noah bites his lip, pushing with all his might as the baby's shoulders fully emerge. He feels like he's being ripped in half, but the knowledge that the baby is almost out keeps him going. "Almost... almost there...”

"Yeah almost there. Keep pushing Noah." Kunki’s hand is guiding the baby out.

With a choked cry, Noah pushes with everything he has left. His body convulses as the baby's hips and legs slide out in one final, agonizing push. As the infant emerges completely, Noah collapses back, his body limp with exhaustion.

"It's out! It's out" Kunki holds the baby in his hands.

Tears of joy and relief flood Noah’s eyes as he hears those words. He looks down, his body shaking with the aftermath of the intense labor. He reaches out a trembling hand to touch his baby.

#birth #birth kink #mpreg #mpreg birth #mpreg kink #mpregnancy #penis birth #urethral birth #mpreg birth story #birth story #orgasmic birth #graphic birth

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canine-witch · 2 months ago

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What Do People Desire From You ~ Pick A Pile

I channeled a question today through a song. The song is in French, but the album art was a young lady looking behind her, her back facing the audience. The question "what do people desire from you" popped into my head, and I decided to make this reading to bring clarity.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to reject what does not resonate. Check at the bottom of the reading for channeled songs.

☁️ kofi - pac masterlist ☁️

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile One: The Carousel

People desire your destiny. You are beginning something new. Maybe a new job, a new hobby, or moving out of your current home. People around you can sense that you're going through a transition for the better, and want what you have.

You may not see yourself the way that others do. You may feel like you are running in circles, trying to catch up to everyone else. A force pushed the oracle card indicating this, trying to hide it from view. People do not want you to know that this period of questioning who you are and why you're doing any of this, will lead to a better life. They are scared of you leveling up, and leaving them behind.

Your best option at this moment is to lay low. Take time for yourself, find direction in your life. Know that you have enough time to do all you need and then some. It may not feel like you are moving forward, but all that you are accomplishing is not in vain. Don't let them cover your star, move in silence and grace, and learn all you can.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Two: The Fountain Stairs

People desire your spirit. You may be a reader yourself, or some kind of energy worker or psychic. You have won multiple conflicts in your life, coming out on top and letting your light shine. You may be shy and wary, but this is because you have overcame much alone, and you aren't willing to get into more fights. People see this, but they are still fighting their own battles, and want you at their side.

There is something about you they cannot have. You have a heavy energy of creation and manifestation, able to make what you desire become reality. Others don't understand that the reason you are able to do this is through hard work, work they can do themselves. This is not a talent, this is a skill you have developed. They want you to fight their demons or others with them.

You need to look in yourself and ask if you truly want to fight with these people, or for them. You are weary from life, even if you are a young person, and you are not willing to break your personal peace at this point. But, these people could mean something to you, or be able to stand on their own eventually. Listen to your heart, draw cards for yourself, or have a reading done with the question, "Should I fight for them?". Your answer can only come through your spirit.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Three: The Aviary

They desire your mind. You are highly gifted, highly attuned, and highly intelligent. You may feel trapped in your own mind, unable to escape your own intellect. You may be able to recognize patterns before other people. You have avoided much disaster and conflict through your intelligence, some battles you didn't even know you avoided. You are highly attuned to justice, blind to your emotions and relying on logic, even while perhaps being a spiritual person. This aspect of swords with you has caused conflict, many have said that you don't feel enough emotion. But, they secretly admire you and desire your intelligence.

They are envious of your intelligence. Often in our world, people place intelligence on such a high pedestal, and think that your life automatically becomes easier when you are as smart as you are. You have left many places with people like these, jealous people who always tried to one up you and halt your progress, without looking inwards to their own strengths.

You need to just be yourself. Don't worry right now about expressing yourself emotionally. You need to accept your logical side before you even think to begin working on emotions. People who wish you the worst are oftentimes the one begging you to respond in anger or sadness, when that isn't you, no matter how "healthy" it may be. This does not align with your personality. Use your head, learn all you can, and accept you are not a person who's first idea is to work off emotions.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Four: The Garden Windows

They desire your ability to detach. You may have been told before that you are quick to anger and overly aggressive. That you must be gentler and give people second chances. You know that your strength keeps you safe and keeps people out of your life, and you are angered by people's insistence to coddle them. I am seeing a strong force with you, one that is highly intuitive and spiritual. You know yourself, and you know what is good for you. You are able to easily leave situations which are not in alignment with your higher self nor what you need at this time. People envy this ability to detach and want better for yourself.

They want your fire to be settled, like a campfire. They want to warm themselves and their egos with your praise and attention, but they have not earned it. I am feeling a heavy sigh or speaking from anger with your energy right now. But, your confidence in yourself is faltering, as it seems nowhere is the right place, and nobody is the right person. Do not stray off your path. Those who leave and fall away, do so because they cannot walk this path with you. You are facing the darkest parts of yourself and improving your mind and soul every day.

You expect greatness of yourself, and those around you. This makes you a true friend. Be patient, be still, ask questions, and live with your lonliness, even learn to cherish it. You are your own best friend, and you can never leave yourself. Learn to take the best only, even if it hurts sometimes.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Channeled Songs:

Pile One: did i tell you that i miss you by adore

Pile Two: Hate by ThxSoMch

Pile Three: Teen Idle by Marina (and the Diamonds)

Pile Four: YKWIM? By Yot Club

pac requests open! Thank you so much for your time and energy, have a wonderful day!

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

#Tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot #tarotblr #tarot community #tarot witch #intutive reading #intuitive tarot reading #intuitive tarot #intuitive tarot reader #intuitive readings #channeled songs #divination #tumblr fyp

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adalindofcabinsix · 10 months ago

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that kind of love never dies (II)

summary: the one where jake realizes the complexity of a supposedly simple plan.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.4K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: i love this chapter. it was so much fun to write jake's first meeting with mc. the game left many unresolved questions and i will try to answer them based on the information we already have and a little imagination.

masterlist

Without any hesitation, he nodded. There was no point in lying now, not after everything they had done to get Hannah back. And, even if it bothered him a little, Barbara had won his trust.

“A penny for your thoughts.” The hacker asked, seeing the confusion in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's a long story.”

“I have time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

Jake took a deep breath to calm himself. They definitely didn't have time. However, he knew he would need to do his best to make her trust him again.

“Long story short, an old alert from Nym-0s showed results yesterday saying that you bought a plane ticket to Switzerland. Since the airport was close to Duskwood, I thought I'd better investigate.”

“Have you been following me since New York?”

“Not exactly, I bought a nonstop flight from Tokyo to Zurich.”

“Why didn't you tell me who you were when we bumped into each other at the airport?”

He hated the fact that his tone was more hurt than angry. Jake opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it. Looking over her shoulder, he noticed the presence of a hooded figure standing in front of the open door of the chinese restaurant, hunching his shoulders against the pouring rain.

Barbara's cell phone immediately started ringing with a call. Frowning, she reached for the device inside her bag, and Jake didn't need to understand portuguese to know what was written on the screen.

“Unknown number?”

“Yes.” She lifted her head, meeting Jake's eyes.

“Great.” He said ironically, taking the cell phone from her hand and sliding his finger to the left to reject the call. “Come on, I'll explain everything to you on the road.”

“All right.” Barbara answered, allowing Jake to lead the way. “But if you're lying about who you are, I'll break your nose.”

“It's fair.”

The hacker kept walking , and she ran to keep up with him, dodging a puddle of water. Two minutes later, they stopped in front of a gray Mercedes-Benz crowned with a red convertible roof parked behind the Gates Hotel.

“Please tell me it’s not stolen.”

“It's not stolen!” Jake looked at her offended, opening the passenger door.

“Sorry! It's just that in my mind you were poor. Which, when you think about it, doesn't make sense, right? How would you do everything you do without money?”

“You are impossible, Barbara.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can't be impossible, Jake, I exist.” She replied, rolling her eyes theatrically. “I think you meant that I'm unbelievable.”

“Get in the car straight away.” He ordered, but he was smiling, his eyes filled with something like pleasure.

“I have some questions.” Barbara announced when they stopped at a red light.

“Of course you have.” Jake smiled amusedly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Earlier, at the airport, was our meeting on purpose?”

“Yes. I couldn't risk my position by tracking you via cell phone so I had to be creative.”

“Something tells me you're the type to put trackers in people's favorite coat pockets.” She was surprised when he didn't deny it. “Seriously?” Barbara scoffed, rubbing her hands down her arms.

“That worked, didn't it?” He said, undoing his seat belt. “Here, you must be cold.”

Before Barbara could object, Jake took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it towards her.

“Thank you, Jake.” She accepted the offer, her cheeks blushing beautifully as she quickly looked away from the defined muscles that were marked by the white t-shirt.

“You're welcome.” He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

“Were you in Tokyo this whole time?” Barbara questioned, placing the jacket over her shoulders.

“Tokyo, New Delhi, Manila... I needed to keep myself busy so I didn't think about you too much.”

“I'm unforgettable, aren't I?”

“Too unforgettable for your own good.” He agreed, replacing his belt and accelerating the car to get them moving again.

She sighed loudly.

“Yeah, I guess that explains why the FBI won't leave me alone.”

“What?”

“You have no idea why I'm here, do you?”

“Considering who I saw at the chinese restaurant, I think I might have an idea.”

“They sent some messages yesterday, inviting me to that same restaurant we talked about last time. The writing was very similar to yours, but it wasn't the same.”

“You knew it wasn't me and you came anyway?”

“We had an agreement, and as a future lawyer, I couldn't let them get away with this so easily.”

“What was your plan?” He waited for an answer, but Barbara just shrugged. “What? Didn't you have one?”

“We brazilians work better under pressure.”

Jake had to stop himself from giving her an irritated look.

“Well, at least this time the FBI is innocent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Old habits never die, right? I figured something was wrong when you didn't go directly to Duskwood, so I accessed the security cameras around the hotel and watched the footage from the past two days.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary, but there was one guy who caught my attention. I think I've seen him before. Anyway, I've run his face through facial recognition software and will have confirmation by the end of the night.” He met her eyes, his expression becoming serious. “Barbara, do you understand how…”

“Stupid to come here alone without knowing what I would face? Yes, the reality is starting to knock. In my defense, I would never imagine that someone from the outside could have access to our conversations.”

“Breaking into the FBI database is complicated, but not impossible. This guy was supposed to be looking for information about me and ended up finding you along the way. I'm sorry for bringing you into this.”

She made a nonchalant gesture, dismissing his apologies.

“You're only here because I was impulsive and played my role as a decoy very well, so I think we can say we're even.”

“I will always be in your debt.” Jake declared softly, weaving through traffic with ease.

The rest of the trip flew by, and the next thing he knew, he was parking near the Aurora's curb.

“What are we doing here?” Barbara looked at him uneasily, her voice sounding louder.

“I need to drop you off somewhere safe before I go back to get my gear from the hotel I'm staying at.”

“A bar is the last place I would think of, I have to admit.”

Jake snorted.

“As much as you approve, we only came here to get Jessica's address.”

“I thought you gathered information on all of us when Hannah was kidnapped.”

“I did, but Jessica moved out a few months after Richy got arrested. And since the FBI is monitoring activity around your friends' digital data, I'm forced to do this the hard way.”

“You mean... Talking?”

“Talking to Phil.”

She stifled a laugh.

“You can wait in the car if you want.”

“I'm not leaving you alone with this guy.” He rolled his eyes, stepping out into the drizzle that was decreasing with each second.

“In that case, why not go to Lilly or Dan?” Barbara commented, carefully slamming the car door. “I'm sure it would be less unpleasant for you.”

“I don't want others to know I'm in town.” Jake said, stopping beside her under the bar's canopy. “Not yet.”

“You're avoiding your sisters, aren't you?”

“It is complicated.”

“I know it's none of my business, but they'd be happy to hear from you. Especially Lilly.”

“Since when have you been Lilly's defender?”

“Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.” Barbara laughed, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her dress. “How do I look?”

Jake analyzed her from head to toe for a few moments, seeing the way Barbara's hair fell over her arm in messy locks, how her smudged mascara highlighted the beauty of her light brown eyes, and how her dress, almost completely dry, outlined each centimeter of her body.

“Beautiful.”

“I'm serious, Jake!”

“Me too.” He smiled adoringly, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Come on, I don't want to prolong this any longer than necessary.”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

#iamjake #duskwood #moonvale #everbyte studio #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction

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hannahbarberra162 · 3 months ago

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Hysteria (Yandere Marco x Reader, Victorian AU, DARK, non-con)

Summary: Marco "The Phoenix" Newgate is intent on making you his wife, regardless of what you think about the matter.

TW: Dark, DEAD DOVE, non con, yandere, misogyny, bad medicine / malpractice. There will be more partners but not in this chapter.

A continuation of a One Shot I wrote - couldn't stop thinking about Victorian Marco. There's also this sexy Detective Marco statue that didn't help me forget Victorian Marco.

“Dear, do be serious for a moment. You already said yes ,” you mother hissed into her teacup while sporting a smile, trying to hide her words from your suitor. Doctor Newgate, or Marco as he asked you to call him, had a benign smile on his face and his eyes half lidded. He was sitting on the settee in your parents parlor, his long legs crossed as he drank his tea. Even though you were sure he could hear, he was granting your parents the social mercy of pretending he couldn’t.

Mr. Newgate, his father, was sitting in the largest chair in the parlor, smoking a pipe like he was relaxing in his own home. He hadn’t said anything beyond an introduction, allowing Marco to take the lead. He was easily the largest man you’d ever seen in your life, his mere presence making the room seem smaller by comparison. Even though it was your parents house, with Newgate in the room it was like it was his world and you were just living in it. Mr. Newgate hadn’t given you more than a nod but he unnerved you. Not like Marco who scared you, more like the feeling one got when staring at a mountain or the ocean - the feeling of insignificance in the face of something ancient and powerful.

“Please, give us a moment to speak to our daughter in private. She is joking, you know how these silly young women are,” your father said with a nervous laugh, his hand clapping heavily on your shoulder and gripping tightly. You tried to hide your wince as his hand squeezed bruises already left behind due to your previous refusals. Marco’s eyebrow raised pointedly at your father’s aggression, making your father pale and release his hand from your shoulder. “With your permission of course, Dr. Newgate,” your father stammered as Marco exchanged a glance with his father, who nodded wordlessly. Some kind of communication had passed between them but you didn’t understand what it was. You did feel some sense of satisfaction watching your father wither under Dr. Newgate’s gaze but you knew it wouldn’t save you from the lecture - or worse - you were about to receive in private.

Your father and mother were ultimately selfish, self centered people. Even though you’d told them time and time again that you didn’t like Marco Newgate and that you didn’t want to marry him, they were forcing your hand. They wanted you to marry into wealth and a connected family which would increase their own social standing. You had adamantly refused to marry him and they couldn’t legally force you unless you were declared incompetent in some kind of way. Yes, he was trying to coerce you by force but without a diagnosis of some kind of insanity, you just had to stay strong and refuse. Since you were a woman of society, you didn’t see how that would be possible. You had friends, kept up with the local social scene, and even volunteered in your free time and as such you were able to reject any offer for marriage that you deemed unsatisfactory. And Marco Newgate was unsatisfactory to your tastes.

It was true that he was tall, handsome, wealthy and very intelligent. He was able to move among all echelons of society with ease, switching from speaking casually with tavern goers to speaking with the Emperor himself as a medical advisor on occasion. He was debonair, suave, charming - everything everyone wanted to be. Your girlfriends told you that you were the world's biggest fool for denying his advances.

But you knew that all the glamour and prestige, Marco was a predatory beast. You knew it with all your heart. It felt like no one could see it but you, everyone sang his praises and tittered with joy when he came around. His eyes shined a touch too bright, his smile a bit too wide, his teeth a tad too sharp to convince you of his character of the charismatic doctor. It was like a game to him - he knew that you knew and both of you had your roles to play.

Your parents thought you’d met Marco for the first time when he began courting you, but the truth was that you’d met long before as young adults. You’d been strolling along a country stream one day after having given your governess the slip. Normally you didn’t mind your lessons all that much but the day had been the perfect summer day, the warm sun shining down as a light breeze pushed your hair out of your face. You thought you were alone so you stripped down to your petticoat, a light cotton shift, and left your shoes, heavier dress, and parasol under the shade of a tree. You let down your hair, freeing it from the confines you had to regularly tame it into. The joys of childhood had just passed you now that you were a woman but a part of your soul missed the simple pleasure of being free in body and mind under the summer sun.

You eventually sat down on the grassy bank, kicking your feet slowly in the cool water. You’d been down this path hundreds of times before and you were well familiar with this portion of the river. Laying back with your arms behind your head against the lush grass you enjoyed watching the clouds roll by in the sky. You watched until your eyes slid closed of their own volition. You weren’t exactly sleeping, you were merely resting under the rich summer sun and enjoying the bounties of life itself.

You felt the sun disappear and you frowned. There hadn’t been that many clouds when you’d last looked, not enough to cover the sun. Opening your eyes had you gasping in fright as you saw a handsome young man leaning over you. His short mop of blonde hair was hanging down as he considered your form. You tried to scramble up but your head jerked back harshly as you realized the man was standing on your loose hair. He was staring at you intensely, his expression somewhere in between interest and amusement. As you crossed your arms over your chest to cover your near nudity you noticed that the silver ferrule of his cane was centimeters from your face. It wasn’t becoming for a young woman to be practically naked and especially not in front of a young man, the situation was making you flush furiously.

“Please sir, you’re standing on my hair,” you said to the young man. He was around your age but you hadn’t met him before nor seen him in society. There were plenty of families coming and going all the time in your city, it was a busy mercantile area. It wasn’t unusual for new members to drop in as the social landscape changed.

“So I am yoi,” the man replied, his gaze never leaving your face as you felt yourself flushing deeper. You’d never been allowed so close to a man you weren’t related to and this was not how you expected it to happen.

“Please sir, would you mind moving?” you asked politely, his strange reply not at all what you were expecting.

“I would,” he replied, your hair still underneath his leather boot. A teal feather floated down from his coat and he plucked it from the air between two fingers. He was upside down to your vision and you tried to tilt your head as far as you could to get a good look at him.

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered with a half smile, not understanding the situation that was unfolding. The young man had a gleam in his eye that you didn’t like, something dark and terrible lurking just under the surface.

“I would mind moving. I quite like you trapped beneath me,” the man said with a smile, as if the two of you were discussing the weather. Your smile faded as you understood the reality of the situation. You felt your heart began to race as you thought through your situation. You’d chosen this path due to the low numbers of people who used it for the purpose of evading your governess. Now you were alone with a strange man who seemed perfectly pleased to have you ensnared.

“Ah, Sir -”

“Marco,” he said, tutting at you. He hadn’t moved his hands from the top of his cane but now picked it up and moved it away from your face. Everything about this situation was making you uncomfortable. It was horrible enough to be unprotected with a strange man but something in your gut was telling you to run as fast as far as you could.

“M-marco, would you please let me up?” you asked, your nipples pebbling under your thin shift. You had no other recourse but to ask politely, you were at his mercy.

“What will you give me?” he asked, now using the ferrule of his cane to tilt your head backward, exposing your neck further.

“Wha- I - I have some funds in my -” you said as the ferrule dug deeper into the soft underside of your jaw.

“Not funds yoi. Have you been kissed by a man?” he asked, now squatting down on his haunches to get a better look at you. You felt your flush extending far past your collarbones as you answered.

“N-no. I have not.”

“Then I shall set you free for the price of your first kiss,” Marco stated. He wasn’t asking you or bargaining and you felt like you’d made a deal with the devil. Taking the teal feather, Marco set it behind your ear before he stood up and removed his foot from your hair. You did not hesitate as you burst to your feet and ran as fast as you could away from the strange man. He laughed and slowly took chase, walking leisurely as you ran with your hair flying behind you. As you ran you decided that climbing a tree might be the best bet for losing him as the foliage would obscure you from his sight. You scrabbled up the tree, scraping your knees and arms in the process of trying to climb higher and higher away from this menace. Reaching a large and high branch, you pressed yourself against the trunk and tried to stay out of sight. All you could hear was the beating of your heart in your chest and your panting breath as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Oh, what a fickle lover you are! To deceive me with such a trick, what a naughty Dove,” Marco said, walking slowly down the path while tapping his cane against passing tree trunks. He stopped underneath the shade of the tree you were in. You quieted yourself even further and prayed that he didn’t know you were above.

“Such naughtiness needs correction yoi. It wouldn’t be seemly for an enchanting lady to run so wild, crushing men’s hearts with her capricious nature. Furthermore a lady should not be climbing trees like a rapscallion, she should be with her husband and attending to his needs,” he intoned as if lecturing you. He sat down at the base of the tree, setting his cane across his large lap. Your dress now clung to you like a second skin from the nervousness you were exuding. Yes, you were safe for now but you were also up a tree with no methods of egress. Distantly you heard the voice of your governess calling for you - you could have cried from the relief you felt washing over you. Her voice rang through the forest, getting louder as she approached where you were.

“So that’s your name then, little Dove? A fitting name for such an exquisite fille. I suppose I will take my leave,” Marco said, still facing away. He looked up in the tree and pierced you with his gaze, skewering you where you stood. You realized he’d known you were there the whole time and was playing with you for his own amusement. There was no longer merriment in his tone, you felt like you were the unlucky fox to his hound, about to be rent to pieces.

“Your first kiss belongs to me, and myself alone. If I find you have wasted it on another little Dove, I assure you that you will not like the outcome,” he stated, his grip tightening around his cane. You shivered at his vow, delivered like a curse. Getting up, he dusted off his clothing and resumed walking down the path. Passing your governess, he tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“I believe your errant ward is that way,” Marco said, almost apologetically. “Young women need to be guided with a firm hand, no?”

Shortly after your encounter with Marco, he and his family were introduced in society. You kept your distance from the doctor, never speaking to him outside the bare minimum required for social etiquette. For his part he didn’t try to find you alone or subject you to his whims again. You’d never told anyone of the time you had spent Marco but his lingering, intense stare told you he hadn’t forgotten. There wasn’t anything concrete between you and the handsome doctor - he had forced a pact between you without your consent. And yet you still never kissed a man, choosing instead to heed his warning. He hadn’t threatened you with anything specific and yet the feral look in his eyes told you he held you to his promise. You kept the teal feather and put it in a book, finding it too beautiful to dispose of no matter the origin. The feather never dulled or withered, it almost had a preternatural flame to its color.

In the past few months you’d been hopeful that Marco had finally forgotten about you or moved on as he hadn’t been seen at parties as much. His new sanitarium was being completed and he was heavily involved in the project. He was not only the head physician on staff but also had raised the majority of the money donated to help those with mental issues. Marco barely spoke about the project before women were opening their pocketbooks, outdoing one another in a bid to catch his attention. You had tried to avoid the gala that had been thrown in his honor but your parents insisted you attend. People started remarking on Marco’s glances being directed your way and your parents wanted you to capitalize it. You tried to make them understand but they insisted on dressing you in your finest (and most revealing) blue gown and sent you on your way. The gown matched the teal feather you’d kept all these years so you tucked it last minute into your hairstyle as an accessory. Feathers were in fashion currently so it wouldn’t be out of place among the flocks of women looking their best.

After being announced at the ball you quickly headed off to the side, hoping to hide yourself among the people hanging in the wings. Marco came from a large family and there were dozens of men you didn’t recognize circulating among the friends and acquaintances you met regularly. You tried to subtly keep your eyes on Marco, minding where he was at all times to avoid him as best you could while you chatted with those you knew. Somehow, to your dismay, Marco was able to slip your notice several times but didn’t approach you. Throughout the evening you had the sensation of eyes on you but anytime you looked around, there was nothing amiss. Towards the middle of the night you let out a sigh of relief - Marco was about to begin his speech thanking everyone and you’d be able to leave right after.

Everyone gathered around the dance floor where they would be able to hang on the honeyed words that slipped from Dr. Newgate’s mouth. Like before you stayed towards the back of the crowd, only partially listening as you waited for the speech to conclude in between long rounds of applause. Marco began with the expected remarks, thanking all the generous donations that had been made to the groundbreaking Newgate Sanatorium. Apparently the Emperor himself had donated to Marco’s mental health ward and had given him a private audience to speak to his cause. The Sanatorium would help thousands of people struggling to maintain their psyches using the most cutting edge technologies. Marco would be bringing in medical students and other doctors so as to train the upcoming generation in the newest and most modern ways to treat the mentally injured. You were truly impressed with the services Dr. Newgate would be providing to the community and were glad he'd have the support he needed.

You clapped along with everyone else but were watching the exit to make your escape. Marco then began walking through the crowd as he spoke, the throng parting easily for their hero. “But there is still one thing missing from the Sanatorium,” Marco said, now walking in your direction, his cane tapping gently on the ground as he moved. You remembered that cane well from your younger years and the way it had dug into your skin as if to mark you. Shivering, you tried to back away with the rest of the crowd. Marco’s blue eyes locked in and bore into your own, as if he’d been tracking you the whole time. Your blood ran cold as he continued his approach. People noticed him staring at you and stopped moving out of the way, their bodies serving as a tacit barrier to your egress. Marco stood in front of you as your breath started to come in short bursts, feeling just as stuck as all those years prior.

“Rather, one person. A doctor can work his whole life to help others, but who helps him at the end of a long day? A man needs a wife to have a complete life, to feel like he matters not only in society but in his home as well. Which is why I am proposing marriage to-” Marco continued talking as he bent down on one knee in front of you but you couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

Marco reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a small velvet box. You could feel your heart beating wildly as he opened it, revealing a large sapphire ring set in gold. You gasped, covering your distraught face with your hands. The guests clapped and cheered, mistaking your shock for approval. Several men whooped loudly, coming to clap Marco on his back. Your vision had narrowed into just the ring, you were unable to look at anything else. Marco took the ring out of the box and gently pried your hand off your face, sliding the ring onto your finger. It was a perfect fit. He stood up, towering over your smaller form once more as he gripped you about the waist with one large hand. His fingers dug into your side keeping you secured to him.

“My betrothed and I will dance together for the first time tonight yoi,” Marco declared with flourish, giving the crowd a large smile. You finally snapped out of your stupor and tried to dislodge his hand subtly but Marco was already guiding you to the dance floor. Putting you into a dancing position, Marco held out his hand and pulled you close to his body, his hand pressing into your back. You placed your hand in his as the music began to play, a slow, romantic song that was perfect for a lover’s waltz.

“And now you are trapped beneath me once more, little Dove,” Marco said, his calm eyes belying the strength of his gaze. He was an excellent dancer, leading you easily around the empty dance floor as onlookers gossiped behind their hands.

“I didn’t say yes,” you replied quietly, trying to keep yourself from bolting on the spot.

“Everyone believes you did. You’re wearing my ring,” he said with a light laugh, as if you’d said something funny. “Are you going to defy expectations once more, little Dove? Try another bid for freedom? I haven’t forgotten how you broke your promise to me, and I intend to collect,” Marco said, dipping you backwards. As he brought you back up he gave you a genuine smile, so different from the calculating and sharp one he usually displayed. It was a rare moment of warmth from Marco, the first you could actually remember receiving. Seeing it made you nearly miss a step but Marco corrected you without missing a beat, staying in tune with the orchestra.

“You’re wearing my feather yoi,” he said softly, bringing a finger up to touch your hair. You didn’t want to dissuade his notion and make him angry, especially in front of his brothers and the crowd. His touch made you shiver, this was the first time that he touched you directly.

“I can’t marry you Marco,” you replied, looking up into his eyes. Your will didn’t waver even as you kept your face neutral to avoid a social scandal.

“You will,” Marco said easily, pulling you closer.

“I won’t,” you said stiffly as the song was hitting its final notes.

“Make your escape then,” Marco said as the song concluded, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss. You felt the press of his sharp teeth against your skin, like it was the first step in devouring you. “See how far you get, Little Dove.”

Marco had been right thus far. Your parents publicly accepted the proposal and spent their time persuading you in the privacy of their home. No matter what you said, they were determined for you to accept Dr. Newgate’s proposal. The worst part was that there was nothing concrete that you could pinpoint as your reason not to marry Marco. You didn’t want to reveal the encounter you had all those years ago- any suspicion of impropriety would have them marrying you off immediately to avoid disgrace. Beyond that, all you had was a gut feeling, the sense of being captured in the talons of a bird of prey. You had started locking yourself in your room to avoid the circular conversation. That had worked until they took the doorknob off which prevented you from separating yourself any further.

To your dismay you were also unable to get the engagement ring off your finger. When you didn’t have the intention of removing it, the beautiful ring spun easily around your finger and caused no discomfort. But when you tried to take it off you were unable to dislodge it from your finger by any means. It was like it was stuck there permanently - butter, lotion, and oil did nothing to help you guide the ring off your finger. You tried cutting it off with shears or pliers but the ring was seemingly indestructible and immovable. Late at night you marveled at the ring, sweat running down your brow from the effort to remove it, as you wondered what magic Marco had imbued within it that made it unable to be removed. You’d heard of Devil Fruits and their miraculous powers but never in inanimate objects.

A few days before Marco and his father were set to come over and discuss next steps, your father had began trying to beat you into submission. He wasn’t all that big but he didn’t have to be as he was stronger than you. He said marrying Marco was in your best interest and you were insane if you couldn’t see that. You hadn’t relented even as your shoulders and back ached with the accumulating bruises. He never struck your face or chest, afraid that Dr. Newgate might see the evidence of his “arguments.” You still hadn’t relented, the beatings you were enduring the better option than marrying Marco Newgate.

Your parents had asked for Marco and his father to visit and confirm the engagement all together, convinced that you wouldn’t be able to say no in front of the formidable men. Your courage hadn’t wavered as you politely but firmly told Mr. Newgate that you were not in a position to accept a marriage proposal from his son. Mr. Newgate wasn’t upset or even surprised by your admission. He simply considered you with cold eyes and puffed on his pipe, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Your parents tried to backpedal your words, leading to your father leading you away from the parlor by your forearm. Bringing you into the sitting room, your father locked the door behind you. Turning to face you, he was purple in the face, his free hand was already balled into a fist.

“Just who do you think you are?” he loudly whispered into your face, spittle hitting your face as he spoke. His hand gripped you tighter on your forearm as he spun you to face him. His fist raised above your head, making you shrink back from the coming hit. You screwed your eyes shut as your father’s grip on you made you cry out in pain. “You will be marrying Dr. Newgate even if I have to -” Suddenly your father’s grip on your arm was gone and he began screaming his own pain. Your eyes flew open as you saw your father’s fist being crushed by Marco’s larger one. Marco wasn’t paying attention to your fathers cries as his eyes poured over your face.

“Please go sit with my father in the parlor, Darling,” you heard Marco’s cold voice cut through that of your father as he begged Marco for mercy. Fleeing the macabre scene you did as he asked and ran back to the parlor, chest heaving as Mr. Newgate sat impassively. His eyes roved over your smaller form and he grunted, tapping his pipe against the side of the chair. Your mother watched the used tobacco fall on her prized carpet but kept her mouth shut as the sounds of your father’s screaming hit a crescendo.

“Marco’s not one to let go. ‘Twould be better to marry him now Lass,” Mr. Newgate advised you. You didn’t respond as Marco came sauntering down the hall, wiping the silver top of his cane with his handkerchief. It came away bloody as he folded it and replaced it in his jacket pocket. He looked like he had taken a stroll in the garden, not beating your father bloody. You distantly heard your father groaning and your mother locked eyes at Marco. He smiled calmly and nodded, allowing her to leave to tend to him. Marco crossed the room to you, taking your hands in his own.

“Are you injured?” he asked, searching your face. As you shook your head he pushed your sleeves higher on your arms, revealing the ugly bruises left behind. Marco’s lips thinned in displeasure as the pads of his thumbs traced the dark marks.

“I wish you would have told me sooner. No one hurts my little Dove,” he murmured, bringing your forearm to his mouth for a kiss. You were wary of Marco before but now you were truly scared of what he was capable of with the screams of your father still ringing in your ears.

“Now then, shall we get married this week or next?” Marco asked, kissing the ring on your finger.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

#dead dove fic #victorian au #Victorian Marco has me in a death grip #reader x marco #marco the phoenix #x reader #yandere marco #Look at his CANE #medical maltreatment #wife guy #whitebeard crew #tw yandere #marco op

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