#it's about their DEDICATION TO EACH OTHER!!

[skania]

From Jinx fixes everything

Now that we know it's canon that Jinx was with Ekko and the Firelights during the blank period between Ekko stopping her from killing herself & the final fight, this makes a lot more sense.

The special cover of the Artbook: Portfolio edition is pretty much dedicated to Jinx teaming up with the Firelights, and all of the doodles in the front and cover of the book reflect that.

Which means Jinx must have doodled all of that during that blank period.

So all of these Ekko-themed doodles have just become even more interesting lol

You've got Jinx writing "cute", "best boy" and "dork" around her doodles of Ekko (helpfully identified as "boy savior"), drawing a bunch of hearts around him and also doodling "score!! ❤️❤️❤️ ekko!!"

Like. COME ON lmao

If we add that to the way they literally marked each other with their respective symbols and to Ekko apparently telling Jinx about the AU, we seriously must've missed A LOT between them

[meelusinee]

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND 𖥔 M.R X READER

in which you spend christmas with mattheo and his friends (part two to lovesick!mattheo)

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, early christmas post i think? word count: 1.8k warnings: just fluff!

author's note: THIS IS PART TWO TO LOVESICK MATTHEO, if you want to read part one click here - now listen people, i know it’s not really christmas time BUT a lot of you guys really liked my first mattheo post, and i really really wanna write about him again. and what better way to be in love then cuddles at the fireplace??? therefore, the obvious solution is to have a christmas special!

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND | M.R X READER

It had been a long while since you and Mattheo had gotten together, a relationship full of notes and songs dedicated to you. You tried to keep everything you could in a small box, the widest smile on Mattheo’s face coming out when he saw the box for the first time.

Suffice to say that his appreciative kisses and cuddles kept you rather warm that night.

Over the course of your relationship, you had met Mattheo’s friends as well. It started indirectly, whenever they would barge into his dorm room and find you both cuddling. 

Theodore was the one you talked to the most. He was Mattheo’s best friend, and often teased him quite a bit about how much he loved you. Theo was the one who told you about the love letters that Mattheo made in the first place, which you shall forever be grateful for. 

Blaise and Draco were the friends that you often went to if you wanted to get on a cruise ship the next week, or whenever you wanted the best wine seller for a Slytherin party that weekend. And Enzo or Pansy were the friends you’d go to if you wanted all of that done illegally.

All in all, a rather good friend group.

Which led you to where you were going right now. A legal holiday adventure hosted by Draco at one of his vacation houses somewhere in the world. Mattheo and you decided to spend some time together driving to the place, which eventually led to Theo coming along. Theo invited Blaise to smoke with him. Blaise invited Draco to pay for road trip snacks. Draco invited Pansy because they were dating. And Pansy invited Enzo for reasons you still hadn’t been told yet.

That meant you had to take your family van.

You and Mattheo sat in the front, with Theo, Ezo  and Blaise in the middle. Pansy and Draco sat in the backseats, dining in on the couple time that you and Mattheo had been robbed of. Still, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are we there yet?” Enzo whined, head leaning forward.

Maybe one change or two.

“No, we’re not.” Mattheo said, sighing softly as he continued driving forward. “I told you this five minutes ago.”

“Maybe the path changed within five minutes!” Enzo said to him. 

“Yeah, five minutes closer. Not an hour!” you said, chuckling softly as you squeezed Mattheo’s hand. 

“You two are mean.” Enzo pouted, turning to look at Blaise. “Right Blaise?”

“It’s deserved.” he said, flipping through the pages of his book. He recently got reading glasses that Draco and Enzo had teased him endlessly for. “Ow!”

“No kicking!” Pansy said, swatting Enzo’s head from the backseat.

“I say go full-in.” Theo said, which ensued an argument about the ethics of kicking someone whenever they don’t agree with your opinion. You and Mattheo turned to look at each other with soft sighs, similar to parents dealing with toddlers going to Disneyland.

“Can you all hush back there?” you said, the tiniest smirk present on your face as you started at Mattheo. “Your father is trying to drive, hey don’t hit me!”

“Hush.” he said, gently booping your nose.

“Are we there now?” Enzo asked as Mattheo pulled into the parking lot, gasping loudly at the sight of the cabin. “Woah.”

It was decorated to the most Christmas extent you could think of. Bushes covered in lights, icicle lights hanging from the roof, wreaths placed all over the place. There were bells on top of the mailbox that chimed when you passed by it, and a large and bright star at the tippy top of the roof. If you didn’t know where you were, you’d think you walked into a Christmas market hosted by Santa.

The seven of you walked out of the car, Draco walking through first as he inspected the house.

“My mother has a knack for Christmas,” he muttered, his feet making a rather large imprint in the snow. “I didn't think it was this big though.” 

“I bet the Christmas tree is so pretty.” Pansy squealed, running to the front door. “Open it!”

“Give me a moment, Pans!” he said, trying to figure out which key opened the front door from the ring his mother had given him. You and Mattheo stayed behind while the rest of them rushed forward, watching them rush inside once Draco got it open.

“It looks rather magical.” you whispered, giggling as a small snowflake fell on your nose.

“It really does.” Mattheo whispered softly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. “The most magical thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re so sappy.” you smiled.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you. There were two puffer jackets separating your skin from his, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. “We should go on a walk.”

“We should!” you said, your boots making an indent on the snow as you both walked down the path. 

The path was even more magical than the house itself, you noticed, with Christmas trees lining the whole way down. It seemed that all of the trees within the field were swaddled in Christmas lights. Some were regular, some were colored, and others had ornaments or lights at the tip of them.

“This really is beautiful.” you whispered, gasping at the string lights and small candles that gently flew between the trees. How they didn’t get put out by the snow, you had no idea. “Wow.”

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, chuckling softly as he kissed your forehead. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you this whole time.” 

“Well, you better start.” you pouted, turning to him. “The trees are really pretty.”

Mattheo nodded, laughing as you grabbed his chin to direct him where to look. His eyes took in the snowed over area first, the lights on the trees after that. There was red, green, and blue lights bouncing together, along with the regularly colored lights that shined bright on the glittery ornaments.

“They are rather pretty, yes.” he whispered. “Though I feel like it’s quite a lot of color rather than just one.” 

“What really is Christmas if not to turn you blind with bright lights?” you asked, smiling as the both of you walked further down the path. 

“Okay everyone, gather around!” Mattheo said, a bass guitar in hand. The night was rising as the sun was setting, the firepit that Blaise and Enzo had made cracking through the burning wood.

“What are we doing?” Pansy asked, sitting down on one of the wooden logs. Mattheo sat down next to you as Draco sat down next to Pansy. Theo sat next to Mattheo purely to annoy him, while Blaise and Enzo sat on the other log.

“We’re going to sing the Jingle Bell Rock.” Mattheo said, setting the bass guitar on his knees as he began testing it. “Found this in the attic.”

“What on Earth are you doing in my attic?” Draco asked, a cup of wine in his hands.

“Hey, it was open!” Theo said, having assisted with the raid of the Christmas attic. “And we found a bunch of very interesting things.”

“Like what?” Enzo leaned forward with a smirk, before Blaise whacked him in the head. “Ow!”

“They’re just messing with Draco.” Blaise said. “There was only old cobwebs and his parents’ Hogwarts uniforms, nothing scandalous.”

“A shame though.” Theo muttered, lighting a joint before turning to Mattheo. “You gonna play?”

“Yup.” Mattheo said, his fingers running against the strings as he played the opening to the Jingle Bell Rock. 

You and Pansy giggled as the boys all joined together to sing the song, all completely out of tune. Pansy shared a glance with you as you both began to sing the back up vocals, all of you swaying in tune with the music. 

You went from the Jingle Bell Rock to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree. Mattheo and you sang Baby it’s Cold Outside while Theo and Enzo gagged, and Draco dramatically sang Frosty the Snowman with tears in his eyes. Enzo stood up dramatically, pausing the guitar as he began to sing a song about a grandma being run over by a reindeer.

“Okay, that’s enough weed for you,” Draco said, sitting Enzo back down. “We are not running grandmas over with reindeer.”

“Says you!” Theo cackled, crossing his legs. “I for one find the idea rather pleasant.” 

“Pleasant?” Pansy asked incredulously, shaking her head as she very quickly snatched Theo’s joint out of his hand. “That’s it, we’re cutting you off too.”

“My joint!” Theo yipped.

“Mattheo?” you called out, poking your head out of the door as you saw him sitting by the firepit.

“Yeah?” he asked, head lifting at the sound of your voice. You felt your face heating up at the smile that spread on his face, feeling it enough to heat you better than any fire could. “Hi there my love.”

“Everyone’s inside making hot chocolate before they go to bed.” you whispered, walking closer to him. Your hands found their way to the sides of his face, kissing the tip of his nose before you sat down next to him on the log. “Do you want some?”

“No, I’m good.” he whispered, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arm around you.

“You sure?” you whispered, wrapping both of your arms around his waist. “You feel rather cold out here. Your face is all red.”

“That’s because I’m staring at a really pretty girl.” he chuckled softly, kissing your lips ever so gently.

You giggled softly, placing your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with the cutest expression he could ever think of. For him, you felt like epitome of Christmas. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” you said, nuzzling your nose against his playfully.

“No, I love you more.” he smiled softly at you.

“Not true.” you pouted, kissing his nose. “Because I love you so much more.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Well I wrote you songs. So obviously, I love you more.”

“Yeah, well I saved them!” you pouted.

“You did save them.” he reasoned, nodding his head as he looked at the firepit. He put on a serious expression, pretending to truly ponder whether you loved him more or he loved you more. “Still think I love you more though.”

“That’s not fair.” you grumbled, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “It’s cold.”

“Why don’t we go inside then?” he asked gently, his fingertips caressing your shoulder. “You didn’t come out with your jacket, you must be freezing.”

“I am.” you whispered, standing up as he did. “Hot chocolate?”

Mattheo chuckled softly at your insistence, kissing your forehead once more before putting out the fire. “Anything for you.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ITS HEREEEEE!!! i wanted to do a second part for mattheo and i thought that i might as well do christmas-themed since it's already blasting on the radio. i'm tryingggg to heal my christmas spirit that i have lost over the years, esp because i always thought it was just about that one mariah carey song since my sister would play it every. single. day. even during my birthday (i was born in june.)

BUT, as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

have a good day everyone!

[fifty555]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ poetry? no, pottery!

a lil’ love between you and little lando norris 💞 with a twist as you’re a ceramist/potterer!

content warning; none! just enjoy the fluffs! ah, there’s a bit of explicit language (i think?), but nothing drastic! enjoy 😽!

summary; childhood friends reconnect after years apart—he’s a formula 1 driver, and you’re a ceramist.

Lando Norris was used to his friends teasing him. Whether it was his golfing misadventures, his love for Twitch streams, or his occasional emotional outbursts on team radio, there was always something to make him the subject of banter on and off the grid. But the one thing they had yet to figure out—something that he was genuinely proud of—was the pottery.

It started innocuously enough. A vase here, a decorative bowl there. The other drivers had assumed Lando had simply developed a newfound taste for ceramic art after moving to Monaco. Carlos had even joked once, “You’re just trying to look posh, mate.”

But no one had noticed the small etchings at the back of each piece: a simple ‘Lan’ with a heart. Subtle, personal, and not exactly the kind of thing you’d put on items for sale. That mystery had lingered until one fateful evening when everything unravelled in the most chaotic way imaginable.

It was post-race at Silverstone, and the whole grid had gathered for dinner at a private venue. Spirits were high after a spectacular British Grand Prix, with plenty of laughs and, naturally, plenty of friendly ribbing.

Lando sat beside Oscar, carefully monitoring his phone, knowing full well that at any moment you might call. You were in your apartment in Mexico, finalising details for an art exhibit while simultaneously working on personal pottery commissions. Lando adored how dedicated you were to your craft, even if it often left you so absorbed that you forgot things—like where you’d placed your keys, or, as he was about to find out, something a little more important.

Amid the loud chatter, Lando’s phone buzzed, and your name flashed on the screen. Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey, love,” he greeted, but before he could say anything else, your panicked voice filled the room.

“Lan, I lost my ring! I don’t know where it is!”

Shoot, he forgot about the speaker.

The room fell eerily silent as the unmistakable sound of your frantic cries echoed from the speaker.

Lando froze. His brain short-circuited as he realised his phone was still on speaker. Every single driver at the table—except for Oscar, Alex, and George—was staring at him like he’d just confessed to murder.

“Oh, for fu—” Lando scrambled to turn off the speaker, but not before you continued, “Baby, I don’t know where it is! I can’t even—”

He interrupted, voice strained with embarrassment. “Have you checked the wet clays? That’s usually where you’d lose it.”

The line went quiet for a second as the realisation hit you. “Shit. I’ll go check. Thanks, love. Enjoy your dinner with the boys, bye!” You ended the call abruptly, leaving Lando to deal with the aftermath.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel was the first to break the silence, leaning forward with a grin that practically screamed mischief.

“No, who the fuck was that?” Max followed, his bluntness cutting through the rising chaos like a hot knife through butter.

The room erupted in questions. Pierre was halfway across the table, trying to pry answers from Lando, while Charles was practically yelling over everyone else. Meanwhile, Carlos gave Lando a pointed look. “Mate, don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend and you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Lando’s cheeks burned as he fumbled to explain. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Charles’ voice reached a pitch that only dogs could hear. “You’ve been holding out on us! Who is she?”

Amidst the chaos, Alex calmly took a sip of his drink and glanced at Charles. “You’ve met her before.”

“I have?” Charles frowned, genuinely confused.

George pulled out his phone, scrolled through his photos, and handed it over. “Here, this’ll jog your memory.”

The photo showed George, Alex, and you at a karting event years ago, laughing over slices of pizza. You were unmistakable, even with the short haircut and boyish charm you used to sport.

And the fact that you used to terrorise Charles on the grid.

Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re telling me that demon is Lando’s—”

“Fiancée,” Lando corrected with a smug grin, cutting him off. “She’s my fiancée.”

If the table had been chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the uproar that followed.

“Fiancée?!” Charles looked moments away from fainting. Pierre had to physically restrain him from climbing over the table.

Max, ever the straight shooter, raised a brow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since October 2020,” Lando admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.

“You kept this a secret for three years?” Daniel looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “And all we got were vases?”

“Wait,” Carlos interjected, pointing a finger at Lando. “The pottery—don’t tell me that’s her doing?”

Lando smirked, finally finding his footing in the conversation. “Actually, most of it’s hers. But I helped with a few pieces.”

“Explains the hearts,” Pierre muttered, earning a round of laughter.

Meanwhile, back in your studio, you’d found the missing engagement ring embedded in a chunk of wet clay. You snapped a quick photo of your clay-covered hands, the ring perched delicately on your finger, and sent it to Lando with the message: Found it. Your forgetfulness is rubbing off on me.

Lando responded with a selfie of his own, a defeated look on his face, and the message: The cat’s out of the bag.

You could only laugh, imagining the absolute carnage he was dealing with at dinner.

Now, the question is, how did you guys meet?

Well, let’s take a trip down memory lane, yes?

It started at a karting track in Guildford when they were both nine years old. Lando was already making waves on the circuit, a scrappy kid with untamed curls and an infectious grin. You, on the other hand, were a quiet but fiercely competitive racer, constantly being told you’d never make it because you were a girl.

That day, your paths crossed in the most cliché yet heartwarming way. You’d crashed during qualifying and sat on the sidelines, fuming as you inspected the damaged kart. Lando, fresh off his own session, wandered over with a bag of gummy bears and an awkward grin.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag out to you.

You glanced up, unimpressed. “Unless it fixes my kart, no thanks.”

“It doesn’t,” he admitted, plopping one into his mouth, “but they’re good for sulking.”

Reluctantly, you took one. That was all it took. From that day forward, you became friends—rivals on the track, co-conspirators off it. The karting world was small, and you often found yourselves travelling the same circuits, sharing snacks, and occasionally teaming up to prank the other kids.

But all good things come to an end, and for Lando, the end came when you abruptly quit karting at twelve. One day you were there, racing alongside him, and the next, you were gone. No explanations, no goodbyes—just a void where his fiercest rival and closest friend had been.

Years passed. Lando threw himself into racing, climbing the ranks to Formula 1, but he never stopped wondering what had happened to you. He’d hear whispers—something about pottery, about you exchanging one love for another—but nothing concrete.

Then, in 2020, he walked into a pop-up art gallery in London and froze. There, amidst a sea of ceramic sculptures, was a name he hadn’t seen in years: yours. And standing by a display of hand-thrown vases, chatting animatedly with a small group of people, was you.

Lando hesitated, heart pounding as he watched you laugh, looking so effortlessly radiant it hurt. He was a world-famous F1 driver now, but at that moment, he felt like the same awkward boy offering gummy bears to his angry rival.

Finally, he worked up the courage to approach you. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Nice vases.”

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, as if no time had passed at all, you grinned. “Nice curls.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always had. Over coffee the next day, you explained why you’d quit karting. Your parents had pulled you out, worried about the pressure and the toxic environment you were facing as a girl in a male-dominated sport. You’d turned to pottery as an outlet and never looked back.

“I missed it, though,” you admitted, stirring your latte. “I missed racing. I missed… you.”

Lando’s heart clenched. “I missed you too.”

The transition from friendship to romance was seamless, almost inevitable. But given Lando’s high-profile career, you both agreed to keep the relationship private. It wasn’t easy. There were stolen weekends in Monaco, secret visits to your studio in between London and Mexico, and countless moments when you had to play it cool in public, even as your heart raced every time you saw him.

The secrecy was worth it, though. For three years, you built a world of your own, filled with laughter, late-night phone calls, and the kind of love that felt steady and enduring.

The proposal came during a quiet evening at your studio. You’d been working on a commission, hands covered in clay, when Lando appeared in the doorway, looking unusually nervous.

“What’s up?” you asked, wiping your hands on a rag.

He hesitated, then held out a small, unassuming box. “I, uh, thought we could make this official.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Lando Norris, are you asking me to marry you in the middle of my studio while I’m covered in clay?”

He grinned, the familiar boyish charm shining through. “Well, I figured it’s where you’re happiest.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Laughing, you took the box, opened it, and saw the ring—simple, elegant, and unmistakably you. Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes.”

For a while, life went on as usual. You returned to your pottery, Lando to his racing, and your engagement remained a secret known only to close family and a few trusted friends. But secrets have a way of slipping out, and yours did during that fateful post-Silverstone dinner.

By the time Lando returned home to Monaco, the internet was ablaze. He’d soft-launched your engagement on Instagram with a series of photos: your clay-covered hands holding the ring, more of you holding your ring in defeat after possibly losing it, and a final shot of the infamous ‘Lan ♥’ signature on one of your vases.

The caption read: ladies and gents, the chronicles of my fiancée losing her ring. she says that my forgetfulness is rubbing off on her apparently but she sadly chose to say yes to me 😌.

The response was overwhelming. Fans went wild over the reveal, speculating about your relationship timeline and falling in love with the wholesome chaos of it all.

Despite the initial embarrassment, Lando wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, Charles might never let him live it down, and Daniel would probably bring up the ‘wet clay incident’ at every opportunity, but none of it mattered.

As he watched you work on your latest piece, the soft hum of music filling the studio, he felt a sense of peace he rarely found anywhere else. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him staring, and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Back to work, Mr. Norris,” you teased, pointing at the pottery wheel.

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you. “Yes, ma’am.”

If this was what forever looked like, Lando was more than ready for it.

Because in the end, every gummy bear, every secret, and every chaotic dinner had been worth it.

i hope you guys liked it 🥹 tbh, this was originally a gift for my friend to motivate her but now she wants to actually marry him… i take no part in that declaration.

also, this y’all man 🤨☝🏻 damn, he’s okay, i guess.

i’m still very new here, so, there’s some things i absolutely know nothing about… BUT, i’ll get through it ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-!! i love y’all, strangers ‘round the internet 💌 MWAH!

[yumeka-sxf]

Spy x Family merch updates and manga hiatus

I wanted to post about some recent fandom news, starting with the good news: while I mentioned in my 2-year anniversary post that we've been in a dry spell lately as far as SxF content, we just recently got a bunch of new merch/designs! (mostly from various Jump Festa vendors) I'll start with my favorite of the new designs, from HMV's Jump Festa set - Forgers in winter outfits ❤️

Next is the "French casual" set from Chara-Ani~ Bond's little red beret looks so cute!

Another winter outfit set, from Animate. Gah, this one's so adorable, too 😭

Next is merch from Ichiban Kuji. Not sure if it's for Jump Festa as well, but either way, I want the acrylics and the plate!

And lastly, Ensky's merch for Jump Festa - Forgers baking cakes/cookies!

Again for those who don't know, Jump Festa is a yearly event held in Japan in late December that's dedicated to Shonen Jump IPs. SxF will have its own panel with the four Forger voice actors in attendance. We've always gotten exclusive announcements and content at past Jump Festas, so fingers crossed it will be the same for this year! I'm gonna try my best to get some of this merch when it goes on sale in late December. And of course, if I'm able to make high quality scans of these new designs, I will post those as well!

Now onto the bad news, which most of you probably heard about already: the hiatus for the SxF manga has been extended to December 23rd. I believe this is the longest hiatus the series has had so far, and what makes this one concerning is not only that the date kept changing, but also the noticeable silence from Endo and other official outlets.

In the Japanese version of the manga, the last page of each new chapter typically notes the date the next chapter will come out. In the case of the most recent chapter, 107, it said it would release on November 25th, meaning Endo would be taking a break from the bi-monthly schedule, which isn't uncommon. But then, just a few days before the 25th, official English manga outlets like MangaPlus updated the release date to December 9th. It was disappointing since we had all been waiting longer than usual for the new chapter, but again, a second postponement wasn't too alarming...what was alarming though, was the third one that came just yesterday, only a few days after the last. People started noticing that official manga outlets had, again, changed the date for the next chapter to December 23rd this time.

The fandom got stirred up quite a bit when this happened, mostly out of concern for Endo's well being. What made me particularly worried was the fact that, while these hiatuses had been going on for the past month, Endo hadn't posted anything on his Twitter account, which is very unusual considering every month prior he's posted at least a few unique illustrations. Not only that, but the last thing he posted was this oddly cryptic image on October 19th, with text that says "Don't look for me." And he then deleted it soon after, which makes it even stranger.

But thankfully, Shonen Jump must have noticed the pandemonium happening in the fandom, because just a couple hours later, they made this statement on the official Jump+ Twitter, apologizing for the delay and confirming that chapter 108 will indeed come out on December 23rd.

This to me was good news, since their official statement about it makes it unlikely they'll change the date yet again. But some sort of explanation would have been nice, even a vague one. I'm not someone to spread rumors, but my own personal speculation (which could be totally wrong) is that there was some dispute between Endo and Jump. This is the only explanation I can think of as to why his Twitter would suddenly be barren for a month after he posted consistently for so long - my guess is that he has to get approval from Jump for all the illustrations he posts there. I don't know much about the inner workings of the manga industry, but I would assume he has some contractual obligations where he can't freely post stuff on social media without some sort of publisher's approval. It is possible he's just been too busy with Jump Festa and other things, but he's still posted at least a couple times a month even when he's sick or busy, so I don't think that's the main reason. Again, this is just my speculation that could be completely wrong. There's also the fact that they so quickly changed the release date to the 23rd, the day right after Jump Festa ends, which could indicate that Endo's been busy cooking something big to be announced there. Regardless, I'm happy we finally have a new chapter release date that's pretty set in stone now, though I won't feel totally better until we get clear acknowledgment that Endo is okay, either from himself on his own Twitter or somewhere else official.

Anyway, despite this setback, I'm relieved that SxF is still going strong with all the hype for Jump Festa and season 3. Between that and the new chapter right after, we'll be eating good this Christmas!

[idolomantises]

Are there any bugtopia plotlines you were hoping to apand on and get to that differ from canvas? :0 i was really liking the depth to sorrel shown this time round

So many. There was stuff I wanted to explore like Sorrel and Jasmine’s childhood, Milan and Jasper’s rivalry, Marigold and Cale’s relationship (i gave them a semi conclusion in case I never return to the series but I wanted to really space it out more), Arachne and Scarlet’s… everything, Spike and Lance had no major arcs but I just love them being silly husbands together, the weird girls were going to have each season dedicated to them, Dot making new friends at school along with Tulip dealing with her family, and I was going to introduce so many new characters

But tbh? I am sort of glad I went through the process because I think my biggest mistake was trying to give so many characters these massive plotlines instead of making each season an anthology focused on a few characters. Like I did not expect to see so many people claim they were “misled” by the series because they thought it would be just about dot and Arachne when the premise literally states it’s about multiple characters. But on the other hand I do get it because it probably would be pretty annoying to wait a week and then it’s about a character you don’t care about.

I love the weird girls but I knew they were my least popular characters and some people found them boring, so if I ever came back to Bugtopia I’d either scrap them or save them for another series

[kaspbra-cant-even]

Never Tear Us Apart (Spencer Reid/Reader)

This is one of my works from AO3 where I post under the user-name fish_cloud. Under the cut will be the entire work as it is already finished. Have fun reading and feedback is always appreciated 💛

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV) Relationship: Spencer Reid/Reader Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, Derek Morgan Additional Tags: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, Angst, Violence, Torture, Sexual Content Language: English Chapters: 7/7 Words: 17k

Summary: Soulmates exist but they are rare. So rare, that some people doubt their existence. (Y/n) is already struggling trying to hide her feelings for Spencer but then she finds out they're soulmates, just as they take on a case about a serial killer targeting couples, he thinks are soulmates, things get complicated and dangerous.

Notes: The title is inspired by Never Tear Us Apart by Paloma Faith (I swear that woman has a voice to die for). Also this is kind of dedicated to my best friend, I love her so much. Enough from me, have fun reading :))

Chapter 1

Having a soulmate was a rare occurrence. You could consider yourself lucky if you had one and even luckier if you ever found them. It was kind of like winning the lottery. There were people who had devoted their entire life to finding their other half, without even knowing if they even existed. Isn’t it only human to crave connection? The longing to belong to someone. This is not to say, that you were alone, just because you didn’t have a soulmate or didn’t find them. But this kind of connection was hard to grasp for someone who hadn’t experienced it. A one in a million connection.

Most known things about soul-connections were purely speculative due to the fact that they were so rare and even when some would find each other, there was nothing easy about trying to explain it. Like with all spiritual things there were some people who chased the idea with cult-like devotion and there were people whose life remained inherently untouched by it.

(Y/n) was the latter. In her now 1 and a half years at the BAU she had come into contact with the subject. Mostly it had been people who justified their crimes with their search for their soulmate or they were fueled by their hate for others who had found “the one”. (Y/n) knew that their loneliness didn’t stem from the lack of a soulmate. It was just something to project their loneliness onto.

There were several ways to know if you even had a soulmate but like with most things, they weren’t scientifically accurate most of the time. Soulmates could feel each other’s pain, physical as well as mental. The problem is, who hasn’t had random bruises that showed up out of nowhere or a sudden change in mood. Do you just not remember where those injuries came from and maybe you’re more empathetic than some people or is it your soulmate? Of course, with major injuries there was no doubt but taking into consideration how few even were unmatched souls and out of those how many suffered such significant damage that anything else could be ruled out, needless to say it was an uncommon occurrence to find out this way.

Another thing were shared dreams. Not in the sense that soulmates would dream about the exact same thing, but the overall tone would synchronize. If one was having nightmares, the other would too. Psychological consequences were mostly unexplored.

The last known indicator was that once having met your soulmate you’re lives were intertwined, no matter if you knew they were your soulmate or not.

As you see, all of these indicators weren’t exactly clear. As a result, you could meet your soulmate without ever figuring out they were the one.

When she was younger (Y/n) had fantasized about having a soulmate, like most teenagers did, but as she got older, the fantasy faded. Other things had become more important. She had picked up on some signs but there had never been definite proof and after a while it wasn’t important anymore. She had started working for the FBI as a profiler and from that point on

her mind had been preoccupied with anything else. She wouldn’t waste her life searching for someone she didn’t even know existed.

As (Y/n) walked into the bullpen one morning, the bad dream from the night before still lingered. She couldn’t remember what it had been about, but she hadn’t gotten much rest. She sat down at her desk. She hadn’t even unpacked as Spencer walked up to her with an extra cup of coffee in his hand. (Y/n) couldn’t help but notice he looked tired. “Morning, panda boy.” “Panda what?” “Because of the bags under your...nevermind, you look tired.” Spencer let out a sigh. (Y/n) took a sip of coffee. “Nightmare again?” Spencer nodded and leaned on the edge of her desk.

When (Y/n) first started to take a liking to Spencer she couldn’t stop herself from interpreting something into every one of these common experiences but after a while she’d resigned herself to accepting the were just coincidences. She had read somewhere that people would sync up after spending a lot of time together and there wasn’t a person in the world, she spent more time with than Spencer Reid. The only people who came in close second were the others on the team. When you worked for the BAU, the people you worked with were your family, so much so, she barely had any relationships outside of work.

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it?” She brushed his arm ever so lightly with her fingertips as to not overstep any boundaries. Spencer and (Y/n) were close but she herself wasn’t a very physical person and so she would go out of her way as not to make other people uncomfortable. There were of course exceptions. One of those exceptions was Penelope Garcia, (Y/n)’s best friend at the BAU. Over time she had gotten so comfortable with Penelope that physical touch was a given.

But with Spencer it had always been something different. After they had become friends, it hadn’t taken too long until (Y/n) had caught feelings and she felt like taking advantage of their friendship if she used it to get closer to him.

Spencer’s eyes flickered to her hand on his arm for a split second before she retracted it quickly as to not make him uncomfortable. Their eyes met for a second but before she could try to read him and overthink the situation Spencer spoke up. “Conference room in 5.” He walked back to his desk to get some papers before heading to the conference room.

(Y/n) let out a sigh. Spending time with Spencer had become increasingly more difficult. It wasn’t his fault. It just became harder to hide her affections. She could feel them drifting apart in her effort not to jeopardize their friendship. She buried her face in her hands. There was no good way out of this. Clearly her feelings weren’t going away, and she knew she couldn’t hide them forever. The BAU must’ve been the worst place on earth to have a crush on your coworker.

The inevitable next step was Spencer finding out about it one way or another. The only question was how he’d react. (Y/n) had ruled out the possibility of him reciprocating her

feelings pretty fast. She remembered a case in LA where they had to catch Lila Archers stalker. Spencer had been smitten from the second he laid eyes on her. It had taken (Y/n) weeks and a few bottles of Hennessy to get the image of them kissing in the pool out of her head.

She shook her head as if to get rid of the memory. She stared at her desk from between her fingers. The other two options were either him being ok with her having feelings for him but at this point she doubted she could still be friends with him even if he had a good reaction, or he wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway.

“Fuck...” (Y/n) whispered. She looked up, fixed herself and grabbed her cup before walking into the conference room. The only free seat was next to Spencer. He gave her a small smile before she sat down. Instantly she felt the small butterflies in her stomach. She smiled back and emptied her coffee hoping to drown those fuckers.

Jennifer Jareau was standing in the front explaining their new case. The unsub was targeting couples in the Las Vegas area. The couples went missing sometimes for weeks. There had been 16 bodies already. They showed clear signs of torture. JJ showed them pictures of the symbol every victim had carved into their chest. It resembled a stick figure of a human with four arms and four legs.

“We can safely assume that the killer’s motivation has something to do with the soulmate myth.” JJ concluded.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. She knew Spencer was about to speak before he even opened his mouth.

“Plato said: According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

(Y/n) turned to the others. “So, what er we thinking? Is this guy delusional and chasing some fantasy or were those people actually soulmates he found somehow?” “We won’t have definite proof if these people were soulmate or not as they’re dead, but it would be statistically very unlikely that they were in fact actual soulmates.” Spencer responded.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment. He would never admit it but the way (Y/n) chewed on her pen when she was in deep thought made him feel things. It took him a second to tear his eyes away from her before turning his attention back to JJ.

“We’re dealing with a highly organized serial killer. His motivation is power and control, we’re looking for someone with an outwardly normal looking life, someone charming, charismatic and very intelligent. Later victims have shown signs of post-mortem sexual behavior. So, we’re dealing with someone who feels alone, who fears rejection. When his victims are dead the possibility of being rejected is gone. He also inserts himself into the couple’s relationship. We have to assume that whether they really are soulmates or not, he believes they are. It is possible that he also has some sort of god complex, putting himself in the role of Zeus who separates the soulmates from each other.”

The atmosphere on the jet was buzzing with conversation. The soulmate subject had that effect on people. It was a heavily discussed and controversial concept.

“I don’t think soulmates actually exist.” Morgan said and leaned back in his chair. “How can you say that? There have been cases where soulmates have actually found each other!” Elle protested. “It’s all fake, how can you believe them? Let me guess, you also read your horoscope every day too?” Morgan let out a light laugh but Elle furrowed her brows. “They’re two totally different things, even if I did believe in astrology, which has no relevance whatsoever in this discussion, you can’t just ignore facts!”

(Y/n) leaned back in her seat looking at Spencer, who sat next to her. “What do you think?” He seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment. “I mean there is some evidence but it’s all very speculative.” He looked at her for a second and he swore he saw a glint of disappointment in them but then it was gone. “But who knows,” He added quickly “maybe Soulmate are real, it’s a nice thought that there could be someone out there who has such a special connection to you.”

(Y/n) nodded. “But how is that even supposed to work? What if I do have a soulmate but I like someone else? Or I have a family or something?” “There are platonic soulmates as well, you know.” He gave her a small smile. For some reason this gave him comfort. Spencer wasn’t one to indulge in fantasies and he was decidedly to pragmatic to dream of his soulmate but if he had to chose someone it would be (Y/n). The probability of her liking him in a romantic way was even lower than her being his soulmate so the option of platonic soulmates eased his mind, even if just for a bit. He shoved those thought in the back of his head, he didn’t like to dwell on daydreams.

“Well, if some random guy walked in tomorrow and it turned out he was my soulmate, I’d still want to stay with you.” She said, decidedly, not really thinking about the implication. When she caught herself it was already too late. Spencer let out a small laugh. “You don’t have to stay with me, believe me you won’t want to when you find them.” “Shut up, more likely than not I don’t have one anyway, so I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Spencer let out another small laugh, but his heart sank a bit. If he was being honest with himself it was one of his greatest fears. That one day, (Y/n) would walk into the BAU and announce she’ found the one and she would quit to spend her life with them. He couldn’t bare the thought of someone taking her away from him. But this was totally normal for a friendship as deep as theirs, right?

After a while Spencer got up to get himself a cup of coffee. Elle and Morgan were still fighting, JJ had taken Elle’s side, Hotch just listened and Gideon sat by a window rereading the case file. No one was paying attention when it happened. Spencer had gotten distracted by something Elle had said to Morgan and almost tripped, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. As she saw the scene unravel before her, (Y/n) felt the burn on her hand. It took her every ounce of self-control not to make a sound. Spencer hissed and sat down next to her again. He handed her the coffee so he could clean up his hand with a napkin.

(Y/n) stared at him, her mind running a hundred miles per hour. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Spencer shot her a concerned look. “(Y/n) are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She stood up. “Excuse me for a second, I don’t feel so well, must’ve been the food or something.” She walked to the bathroom without looking back. After she closed the door behind her she sank to the ground with her back against the door.

(Y/n) felt panic rise in her chest. This was not possible. Sure there had been moments when she’d suspected something was up but she had always dismissed it but now it was so obvious there was no denying it. She felt tears of frustration gather in her eyes. As if everything hadn’t been already complicated enough. Not just did she have feelings for Spencer but now she knew almost certainly that they were also soulmates. She felt anger build up. Whoever came up with this soulmate stuff had been a real asshole. She would have been perfectly happy with not having a soulmate and just having Spencer by her side. What if he didn’t want to be her soulmate? Had there ever been a case where one of them just wasn’t into it? Shouldn’t there have been some signs from his part that he felt more for her? But then she remembered what he had said abut platonic soulmates and her stomach sank. Maybe he had known all along, and he’d just been giving her hints that they could just be friends.

Maybe they could make a deal somehow, they didn’t have to spend the rest of their lives together if he didn’t want to. She had resigned herself to not having a soulmate a long time ago, she didn’t need him.

She buried her face in her hands. Suddenly all those thoughts were gone and what remained was a heavy emptiness. There was no good solution for this, and she couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror to see how good her poker-face was after just having gone through the seven stages of grief in under 5 minutes.

As she walked back into the sitting area, she was greeted by Spencer’s worried looks. “Everything ok?” She sat down next to him. “Yeah, everything is fine.” “You don’t look so well, are you sure everything is ok?” He put his hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. His hand was cold on her warm face. Her breath hitched in her throat from the sudden touch and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes. She gave him a soft look. “I’m fine, Spencer, I promise.” His touch lingered for a second before he retracted his hand.

“You know you can’t lie to me.” He gave her a small smile. In a sudden burst of confidence she put her hand on his. “It’s alright, I’ll talk to you if I need to, don’t worry about me.” His hand wrapped around hers and he gave her a little squeeze. (Y/n) almost got sick from the explosion of butterflies in her stomach. Until now she’d attributed these strong physical reactions when they touched to the fact that she had a crush on him but looking back she couldn’t remember experiencing something like this with anyone else. Working with Spencer would be a real challenge, now that she had not one but two secrets.

Chapter 2

“Life is short, break the rules. Forgive quickly, kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.” – Mark Twain

(Y/n) had a hard time concentrating from the moment they got off the jet. She felt like moving in a dream as they checked in with the local PD, going over the case again, went to the last crime scene. Only when she entered the expensive suite, she felt like shook her awake. The champagne-colored furniture was covered in dark red blood. But it was not the image that snapped her back to reality, it was the smell, it was always the smell that got to her.

The bodies were no longer in the room, but they had been laying here at least three days before anyone even noticed. One of the detectives turned to her when he saw her going pale. “Ma’am is everything alright?” “Yes, I just...excuse me, I just need a minute.”

(Y/n) stumbled out of the expensive hotel room into the corridor. She had trouble breathing and her hands started to sweat profusely. She knew the symptoms, that didn’t make it any less bad. When she reached a side corridor, she slid down the wall. She tried to remember what she knew about panic attacks. Breath. In, out, in and out again.

A pair of shoes came into her field of vision. She didn’t need to look up, to know it was Spencer. He was the only FBI agent she knew of that wore converse. Without a word he sat down next to her, back to the wall. She heard him breath slowly. She knew he was doing it so she could synchronize with him and after a while the panic had subsided.

“Are you better now?” (Y/n) nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” “What happened in there? You’ve seen worse before, what is it?”

She didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t just the fact that she had just figured out they were soulmates; it was something else. Their unsub was actively seeking out and killing what he thought were soulmates. She had been the unsubs ‘type’ before but now it wasn’t just about her, it was about Spencer too. She felt bad for withholding information like this. He didn’t even know he was a potential target. She wanted to tell him, tell him to be careful but something wouldn’t let her. Fear of rejection loomed over her like a dark cloud.

“I don’t know, Spence...I’ve just had a rough week, I guess.” “I know you’re not telling me the truth.” He put his fingers under her chin to make her look up at him. “I want to help you, but you need to tell me what is going on with you.”

There was nothing but kindness and goodness in his eyes. She wanted to tell him so bad. “I thought we weren’t supposed to profile each other.” She gave him a small smile to signal him she wasn’t mad about it. Spencer frowned.

“I’m serious, somethings not right and I need to know what it is. It doesn’t need a profiler to see somethings eating at you, it just takes a good friend.”

(Y/n) stood up. “Come on, we don’t have time for this now, we have a crime scene to profile.” She held out her hand to help him get up. He let out a sight and took it.

Back at the police station the team presented their profile but (Y/n) didn’t hear a single word. Her gaze was fixed on Spencer as he spoke. All she could process was the way he talked, how he moved his hands a s he gesticulated and the way he looked with his messy hair and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

This was getting out of hand. Until now she had at least been able to do her job properly. Only when Hotch had called her name out for the third time her mind returned to reality. “Agent would you please tell the officers what our next step will be?” “Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” She gathered her thoughts for a second before standing up in front of the precinct. “Our best shot is going undercover and try to attract the unsubs attention. We will have two agents pose as a soulmate couple. We know that the unsub doesn’t stay at the same hotel for too long. We also know that he probably targets these couple at special events. Based on the profile we gave you he will appear sophisticated and he probably has some friends in high places. He will be successful in his career as to compensate his feelings of inadequacy regarding his personal life. He has to have some connections, otherwise we would find these victims much faster. He’s paying people to keep their mouth shut.

Tomorrow there will be a fund raiser at the Bellagio. There will be a lot of people and because of the nature of the event there will most certainly be a lot of couples, people usually don’t go alone to those things. This means our unsub will be there. The last victims were found today and killed three days ago; he’s looking for is next victims.”

She could still feel Spencer’s eyes on her when she sat back down. The crowd dissolved slowly. The BAU gathered around one of the desks.

“I think we all agree to send (Y/n) and Spencer as our soulmate couple.” Hotch said and shot them both a look. If (Y/n) hadn’t been so taken by surprise by Hotch’s proposal she would have noticed Spencer blushing lightly. Did they figure it out? Was that why Hotch had chosen them? No, it couldn’t be. Logically, they were the best match. They worked very well together, none of them would pose a great physical threat to the unsub and they were close after all. It wouldn’t be hard to make it believable. (Y/n) almost let out a laugh. Of course, it wouldn’t be hard. She wouldn’t even have to pretend.

“Are you ok with this?” Hotch asked. Both nodded. There really was no good reason to say no.

Spencer sat in front of the case files, but he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/n) and how strangely she was acting. Maybe he had crossed a line and made her uncomfortable? He tried his best to keep a respectful distance, but it got harder every day. It

was almost as if she attracted him like a magnet. It felt so right when they touched hands or when she would brush his hair out of his face when he was too caught up in something else.

He loved to hear her talk. And he loved it when she listened to him. She never seemed to get bored of anything he had to say. Ever. She’d been awfully quiet the entire day. Something was up, he could feel it but for some reason he couldn’t read her. He knew that she would get fidgety when she was nervous, he knew that she carried herself with caution, she had been hurt by people in the past. He knew that she would cover her insecurities with little jokes, and he knew that she had a hard time opening up to people sometimes. But for the love of god, he did not know how she felt about him, and he didn’t know what was wrong with her right now. Some things she held to close to her heart for anyone to see, even him.

Spencer wanted to tell her that she could tell him anything and he wished she would believe him. There was a longing in his heart he couldn’t explain, and he didn’t know what to do about it. His fear was paralyzing him. He’d been hurt before too. For the time being he was content with the little he got, the quick glances when she thought he wasn’t looking, the way she laughed at his jokes and the way she made him feel like their friendship was something special. All team members were close, but he would be the first one she would talk to in the morning and the last one to wave goodbye in the evening. She was always there.

Spencer jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Are you coming? We’re checking into the hotel. Or are you to busy dreaming about our little Miss Commitment Issues?” Morgan teased and walked past Spencer. “I’m not – she doesn’t have – I’m coming wait up!” He grabbed his jacket and the files before following Morgan out the door.

The hotel was almost booked out. Hotch stood at the reception, arguing with the woman working there. “I don’t care that you don’t have enough rooms, we booked in advance!” She didn’t seem too bothered. She looked up from her phone for a moment.

“I’m sorry mister, that’s how it is, can’t throw the guests out that have already checked in. Should’ve come earlier.”

Hotch slammed his hand on the counter. “Listen here, I can get you fired in the blink of an eye. Get us our rooms, now!” His voice was calm but anyone who knew Hotch knew not to mess with him when he talked like this. The receptionist seemed to sense it too. “Ok, ok. I have a few rooms left but you’ll have to partner up.”

“Just give me the keys.”

(Y/n) and Spencer looked at each other like to school friends look at each other when the teacher says you can choose your partner for a project. It was understood they would share a room. But when (Y/n) turned the key around and entered their room she wanted to turn around and never come back.

“It’s just a-a queen size bed.” She stuttered. They stood side by side in silence. There was no couch, no armchair. Finally, Spencer spoke up. “It’s ok I can take the floor.”

(Y/n) gave him a light slap on the arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can share unless you’re so uncomfortable with me you’d rather take the floor.” The last part had been meant as a joke, but Spencer began to stammer. “No, no of course not – I’d love to sleep with you – I mean share a bed.” His face was getting redder by the second.

It took her all her strength not to laugh. “Calm down, Spencer.” She gave him a reassuring smile. He seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. He was so cute when he got flustered, she thought. She would like to see him like this more often if she didn’t know how much it stressed him out.

“I’m gonna go change.” She said pointing at the bathroom. “Y-yeah go ahead.” “Thanks for your permission.” She gave him another smile but this time she was teasing him. “I didn’t mean –” “I’m just messing with you.”

Spencer sat on the edge of the bed while (Y/n) was in the bathroom changing. He tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. There was no way she would ever want to be with a nervous wreck like him. Just like that one time Lila Archer had kissed him in the pool. He had predicted very accurately that she had only shown interest in him because of his role as protector. It had been too good to be true. He had become more cautious since then. His heart wouldn’t open as easily. But if he was being honest with himself it was already too late. He couldn’t even pretend (Y/n) had slipped in slowly and quietly. She had kicked the door in the first time he saw her and then she had made her home in his heart, barricading herself inside.

When (Y/n) came out of the bathroom her hair was damp. He hadn’t even heard the shower. There was something so endearing about seeing her like this, fresh out of the shower in an oversized FBI training t-shirt, something so domestic. “You’re turn.” She nodded at him. It took him a second to react before he stood up and followed her example of showering and changing into something more comfortable.

Later that night they laid side by side in the dark. The only light source were the colorful lights of Sin City. (Y/n) turned her head to look at Spencer. She could only make out his silhouette in the dark. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He turned his head towards her too. “For acting so weird. You’re right there’s something wrong but I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.” (Y/n) felt her throat close. “It’s just...I’m really anxious about the undercover mission tomorrow and that never happened to me before...” She tried to control herself, but she couldn’t help but let out a small sob. “I’ve never chickened out before.”

Spencer didn’t know what to do. He had never seen (Y/n) cry before. “You’re not gonna chicken out, it’s normal to be anxious about these things. And...and you don’t have to worry because you’re not alone. I’ll be by your side the entire time, ok?” (Y/n) nodded but then she remembered he couldn’t see her.

“Ok...thank you. Just promise me you won’t put yourself in danger, ok? I don’t know what is up with me I’ve never been like this before a mission...I’m worried about you and I have a really bad feeling, I can feel it in my gut, you know?”

Spencer didn’t respond immediately, instead his fingers found the hem of her sleeve and tugged at it. (Y/n) understood and closed the distance between them until Spencer had his arms wrapped around her. “Is this ok?” He asked, almost regretting having been so bold.

“Yeah, this is nice.” She could feel him take a deep breath and relax. She felt his heartbeat against her back and her own heart began to beat faster.

Spencer almost couldn’t believe his luck. The faint smell of the shampoo in her hair made him dizzy. He never wanted to let her go ever again. “Spencer?” Her voice trembled. “Hm?”

“I need to tell you something...”

Chapter 3

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. (Y/n) turned around in his arms until she faced him. She had never been so close to him. He tried to study her face, but the darkness was making it hard. “What is it?” He asked cautiously. “I think it’s better if I show you.” He watched her as she raised her hands in front of him. When she pinched the back of one of her hands, he could feel it. He stared at her for a second. He felt the realization dawn on him. His mind short circuited and a quiet “Oh” escaped him.

(Y/n) felt her face heat up. She retreated hastily from Spencer’s arms to sit up with her back against the headboard. After 2 minutes Spencer still hadn’t said anything. “I-I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have said anything.” (Y/n) stood up. Now she felt stupid. Suddenly she felt like she was intruding. “I’m just gonna...” She pointed at the door and before leaving in a hurry. Spencer wanted to say something, but the words never left his mouth.

Before he could gather his thoughts, she was gone. It all made sense now. He couldn’t believe she had caught it before him, how could he not notice it until now? His first instinct was to run after her but what if she didn’t want to see him? Maybe she hadn’t told him because she didn’t want to be his soulmate. The only reason she had told him at all had to be the undercover mission tomorrow. Full disclosure so he knew what he was getting himself into.

Had something like this happened before? He tried to remember every single thing he had ever read or heard about soulmates but there was nothing. Another thought crept up on him. She knew when he was having nightmares, every night he had woken up covered in sweat, she had shared with him. Somehow, he wanted to apologize for that. She had to have been in so much pain because of him.

(Y/n) didn’t come back for the rest of the night. She had probably spent the night in Elle and JJ’s room. Spencer needed to talk to her before they started the mission but through the entire day, he couldn’t get her alone. He was almost sure she was avoiding him.

Some time in the evening they were getting ready for the fundraiser. The first time he saw her again was in front of the Bellagio. He wanted to say something, but they were wearing wires and he didn’t know if she’d told Elle or JJ about the soulmate thing, not to mention that the entire Las Vegas PD didn’t have to know about their personal issues.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but give him a small smile when she saw Spencer in his tuxedo. She had never seen Spencer dressed up like this before. “You eh, you look good.” She didn’t dare to look him in the eyes. “Thanks, you too.”

“Guys you need to step your game up if you want to make it believable for the unsub. You look like two teens going to a school dance.” Morgan’s voice rang through their earpieces.

“Shut up, Derek, next time you can go undercover.”

She took the lead and walked into the entrance hall. Spencer walked behind her and in a moment of braveness he put his hand on the small of her back. She flinched under his touch but before he could take it back, she eased into the touch. There was too much on the line to let personal issues get in the way of the mission.

For the rest of the night, they walked around, watching people, trying to identify the unsub, to no avail. The tension was killing them. “Ok, this is getting ridiculous, we won’t get picked if we keep going on like this.” Spencer took (Y/n)’s hand and dragged her into an empty hallway. Before she knew what was happening, he had muted both of their mics.

“We need to talk about this. I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything yesterday I was just...” “Shocked?” She interrupted him. “I get it, can we go back to the mission now?”

She was already about to go back when he grabbed her hand and dragged her back. “Look, I get it, I’m not what you had hoped for in a soulmate, but you need to get your shit together.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows were furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about, if there would be anyone I would chose as a soulmate, it would be you!” “You’re not...you’re not mad?” “No, I’m not mad, I thought you were the one unhappy with this whole thing.” “Why would I be? If there’s anyone who should be unhappy, it’s you. You’re way out of my league –” “Oh my god, Spencer just shut up.” She cracked a smile. “You’re my best friend, why would I spend so much time with you, if I didn’t like you?”

He looked at her for a second. “I...I don’t know.” “Look at me.” She took his face in between her hands. “Don’t you ever say that you’re not good enough ever again.”

Spencer never wanted to kiss her more than it that moment. His eyes wandered to the hall again and then he saw it. “That’s him.” (Y/n) was still caught up in the moment. “What?”

“Our unsub, that’s him!” “Are you sure?” “Yes, now come on.”

They turned their mics back on. “Reid? What happened?” Morgan questioned but he didn’t get an answer. “We have our unsub, it’s the guy in the dark grey suit by the champagne fountain.” (Y/n) whispered. “We have a visual. Try to get near him.” “Roger that.”

As they walked out of the hallway Spencer placed his hand around (Y/n)’s waist. Her heart was beating faster again. They made sure to be in the unsub’s field of view when Spencer took her hand. “Wanna dance?”

(Y/n) just nodded, she felt her cheeks heat up and she hoped Spencer wouldn’t notice. Unfortunately, he was still a profiler and so he bent down to whisper in her ear. “You know you’re cute when you blush.” The red on her face only intensified. “You know they can hear us.”

They heard a laugh from Morgan. “Yeah, we can, looks like our boy’s got moves, careful (Y/n).” Spencer gave her a smile before taking her to the dancefloor.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” (Y/n) whispered as they swayed to the music. “I’m full of surprises, what can I say.” He hadn’t stopped smiling at her the whole time. Her arms wrapped a little tighter around his neck as she laid her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beat fast and she could smell his cologne. She raised her head slightly so that her nose grazed his neck. She felt him shudder lightly as if he was getting goosebumps.

“Guys he’s approaching you.” As soon as Morgan had alerted them, they heard a voice.

“I’m sorry to intrude like this. But you two just looked so beautiful together. Can I buy you a drink?”

(Y/n) had to peel herself away from Spencer. She never wanted to let him go again. “Sure, thank you, Sir.” She gave him a smile.

The man was a bit older than they had expected. The rest was dead on. He looked sophisticated enough with his expensive suit and his well-groomed physical appearance. The three of them sat down at the bar.

“So, what are you two lovebirds doing here? I can tell you’re not from Vegas.” He took a sip from his Whiskey. (Y/n) had to squeeze Spencer’s hand under the bar before he could open his mouth and correct the unsub, that he was, in fact, “from Vegas”. Instead (Y/n) took the word.

“Well, I know you’re not supposed to brag about this stuff but...” She gave Spencer an endearing look that instantly melted his heart. “We just found out we were soulmates and we wanted to get married as fast as possible and what better place than Las Vegas, the City of Marriage, right?”

The man eyed both of them for a moment. (Y/n) had never felt so exposed in her life. She wanted nothing more than shove her gun into this guy’s face and arrest him right then and there, but they had to wait. He had to take them to the hotel room, they had no concrete evidence yet.

“Congratulations you two. I hope I’m not overstepping here but would it be alright to give you a wedding gift?”

“That is so kind of you, right honey?” She looked at Spencer who forgot for a second the situation they were in. His mind had tripped over itself when he heard her call him “honey”. “Right, right, very kind.” He had to tear his eyes away from her. “I want to pay for a night in a suite, the most expensive in Las Vegas.”

“We would love that, but can I ask why?” (Y/n) asked. They couldn’t be too willing to come along with him or he would get suspicious.

The man let out a theatrical sigh before downing the rest of his Whiskey. “I lost my wife a few years ago and I want to do something good for such a sweet couple like you.” They both knew that was a blatant lie. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Spencer watched (Y/n) play her role with perfection.

“Let’s not talk about me, this is your special night. The car is waiting outside.”

With every step they took (Y/n)’s bad feeling only got worse. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but something was off. When they got into the car, she heard the doors lock and panic began to spread. She tried to calm herself down. The team knew where they were, and they would follow them to the hotel where they could finally arrest this guy. She felt Spencer’s fingers slip between hers. She tried to put on a smile but then she saw the man’s face and her blood froze. He knew.

“How funny...” He spoke. His smile made her skin crawl. “The FBI send me an actual pair of soulmates.” (Y/n) let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. Spencer wanted to make a move, but the man shot him a look. “If you move, she’s dead.”

(Y/n) could hear Morgan’s voice in her ear. “They’ve been compromised we need to get them out now!” “Your microphones and earpieces please.” The man held out his hand. They had no choice. Hesitantly they took them off and handed them to him. (Y/n) could only watch in horror as the man took them and put the microphone to his mouth. “You can collect your agent’s bodies in a few days.” As soon as he had stopped talking, he crushed the devices.

(Y/n) prayed that the team would find them in time. She could feel how she began to lose it. Spencer felt it too. He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine, they’re gonna find us.” The man laughed. “They will, but by then it will already be too late. I’m gonna have so much fun with the two of you.”

She felt Spencer’s hand wipe away some tears from her cheeks. She hadn’t even noticed she had started to cry.

They arrived at the hotel with no interruptions. (Y/n) knew he had shook the surveillance. As soon as they entered the luxurious suite, (Y/n) was just seconds away from a breakdown. There was no way out anymore. It would take the team an eternity before they found them.

There were about 150.000 hotel rooms in Las Vegas. There was no way they’d be found in time.

(Y/n) fell to her knees. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry Spencer.” He kneeled next to her, putting an arm around her. “This is not your fault, why would you say that?” “Because I was so distracted. I haven’t been able to focus, I should’ve said something, and we should have sent someone who could do their job properly.” “Look at me.” Spencer cupped her face with his hands. “This is not your fault, do you understand?” She let out a sob. “We’re gonna die...” “We’re gonna be fine, I’m right here, ok? I’m right here with you.”

The man had sat on one of the armchairs, two security guards by his side. “I can assure you that the other agents wouldn’t have been chosen. I know the difference between real and fake soulmates.” Spencer looked up. “How?” He saw the man’s face turn into a grimace.

“Because I can recognize an abomination of nature when I see one.”

(Y/n) let out another sob. Spencer turned his attention back to her. “(Y/n), breath, look at me.” He saw the terror in her eyes. “Look at me, we will get out of here.” She nodded but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. He had never seen her this scared. They had been through some bad stuff in the past but never had he seen her lose her cool. Something was very, very wrong.

Chapter 4

Everyone on the team was on edge. Morgan’s forehead was covered in sweat. Gideon was standing right behind him, Elle and Garcia sitting just a few feet away.

“How funny...” They heard the unsub’s voice. Something was not right. “The FBI sent me an actual pair of soulmates.”

They exchanged concerned looks. “What is he talking about?” Morgan turned around to look at the others. Garcia shrugged. “She never said anything to me. Do you think that’s what they were talking about earlier when the mics were off?” Gideon’s brows were furrowed. “Could be. Regardless we need to help them.” “They’ve been compromised we need to get them out now!” Morgan addressed the swat team.

Before they could do anything else, they heard the unsubs voice again. “You can collect your agent’s bodies in a few days.”

The horror in Garcia’s eyes grew before the signal died. “We need to do something now!”

A few hours had passed. The unsub, whose name turned out to be Rory Marshall, had left them alone in the suite. There was no phone, and the door was locked. One look out of the window told them they were at least on the 30th floor. There was no escape. Even if they managed to figure out what hotel they were in, they had no way of communicating with the team.

Spencer had gotten (Y/n) through another panic attack. Now she was sitting on the floor with her back leaning against an armchair. Spencer sat right next to her while holding her hand. After a while he moved his position to sit in front of her. He took her other hand too. “(Y/n) look at me.”

She raised her head. The color had drained out of her face. Her eyes were wide open and red. “I know this is very stressful.” Spencer continued. “But we will get through this. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that; none of this is you’re fault. If anyone is at fault, it’s that unsub who is killing people.” “Spencer? What is going to happen to us?”

They both had seen the victims. They both knew what he had done to them. Spencer didn’t need to answer. There was no need to remind (Y/n) of the cruelty that had taken place in the other suites.

Spencer cupped her face in his hands. “Do you remember the Luxor Hotel? The one that looks like a pyramid with the light beam coming out of it?”

“Yes I remember.” “Did you know that the light attracts so many insects that it has established a new ecosystem with moths, bats and owls.” (Y/n) started at him for a second before she realized what he was doing. A small smile made it’s way on her face. Spencer caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. “And did you know that bats can live more than 30 years?” Her eyes became glassy as she scooted closer to him. “And did you know that they can fly at up to 60 mph, in fact the Mexican free-tailed bat can reach up to 100 mph, making it the fastest mammal on earth.”

(Y/n) was so close to him, their noses almost touched. Spencer’s heart began to beat faster. His hands were still on her face. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss the pain away. His eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her eyes. “Thank you, Spencer.” She whispered.

Before she could close the distance between them, the door opened with a bang. The sound made them jump and separate.

Marshall walked in with a grin on his face. “Look at you lovebirds, I hope I’m not intruding.” (Y/n)’s eyes fell on the suitcase in his hand. Two other men followed Marshall into the room. Both were armed. Marshall gave one of them a signal. The man left and came back with two chairs and rope. (Y/n) felt her stomach cramp and the thought what was going to follow. Her and Spencer didn’t move. The other two men left, leaving them alone with Marshall.

“I really didn’t want to interrupt.” he spoke. (Y/n) shot Spencer a quick glance. None of them spoke. She could see Marshall’s facial expression change slowly but surely. The self-assured, mocking look was being replaced by impatience, anger and aggression. “Go on.” He continues while pulling out his gun. “Go on, Dr. Reid, do what you were about to do!”

Spencer looked at (Y/n) but he still didn’t move. He could see the tears gather in her eyes. “I said do it!” Marshall shouted. He was losing it. There was nothing left of his cocky grin. Instead, his face was distorted into a grimace. “Do it or I’ll shoot her right now.”

Spencer straightened his back. “You won’t. You need her, you need us both for your revenge fantasy.” “Do you want to test me?” There was something absolutely insane in Marshall’s eyes. The clicking of the safety being disabled rang through the room. “I said do it.” He was calm again but there was something in his voice that made (Y/n)’s stomach turn.

“It’s ok.” She whispered to Spencer. He didn’t look half as calm as he looked an hour ago. He cupped her cheeks again. “You’re going to be fine; I promise.” He pulled her in until his lips were on hers. They tasted salty from her tears, but they were soft. For a moment he forgot where they were. He had wanted to kiss her for so long. She melted into him, grabbing his dress shirt to pull him even closer. The urgency in her movement almost drove him insane.

“Get in the chairs.” Marshall’s voice interrupted their moment. Spencer pulled away, locking eyes with (Y/n). Her cheeks were flushed and there was a glint in her eyes.

The ropes rubbed against her wrists and ankles. They were too tight to move. Marshall paced in front of them. He had opened the suitcase on a small coffee table. (Y/n) didn’t need to be an expert to know it was full of torture instruments. Every fiber in her body wanted to run when he pulled out a big hunting knife and walked towards her.

“Don’t touch her!” Spencer struggled against his constraints. “Leave her alone!” Marshall let out a laugh. “You know it doesn’t matter which one I chose you’ll both feel it.” He pretended to ponder for a moment before he continued talking. “I still think I’ll start with her. How does it feel not to be able to do anything to help her?” He shot Spencer a look. That shit-eating grin had returned to his face.

He turned to (Y/n). “Where do we start?” He lazily dragged the blade across her collarbone before making a cut. (Y/n) hissed. She felt something warm drip down her chest. Involuntarily she remembered that the killer would spare her face like he had with all his other victims. Her best guess was that he liked to look at them when he had his fun with them after they were dead.

Marshall made another cut, right under the first one. (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut. Her jaw tensed as she tried not to make a sound. She heard Spencer inhale sharply. She remembered, Rory Marshall wasn’t hurting just her, he was hurting Spencer too. She would have given anything to protect him. If he would hurt only her, she could endure it knowing he spared Spencer, but this wasn’t the case.

The only thing she could protect him from right now was the first hand experience of being tortured and hopefully the mental scars that would remain. She knew she could handle it, for Spencer. He didn’t deserve this, any of it. She just should’ve told Hotch about the soul mate thing and they could have prepared differently. But now it was too late for that and minute to minute the pain made it harder to think.

There was a loud ringing in her ears and her mind was in a fog. After a while she couldn’t hold back the cries. She didn’t want to give Marshall the satisfaction, but it was too much. As if that wasn’t enough, she could hear Spencer too. She didn’t know how much time had passed when Marshall finally backed away from her. Her whole body was sore, and her cloths were damp from her own blood. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but she kept staring back at Marshall. It took her a moment to realize, why he had stepped away from her. His phone was ringing. He took a look at the display before letting out a groan and answering.

“What!? I’m busy.” He snapped. Silence followed. “Alright I’ll be there, give me half an hour.” Then he hung up. “Sorry, kids, I’ve got places to be but don’t worry, I’ll be back.” Before leaving the room and locking the door, he undid Spencer’s ropes.

As soon as they were alone Spencer jumped from his chair rushed over to (Y/n). He still felt the echoes of her pain, but it wasn’t half as bad as the pain she was going through. While his body was intact, hers was cut and bruised. He tried to untie her, but his fingers were trembling too badly.

“Are you ok?” Spencer looked up in surprise as he heard her talk. A nervous laugh left his throat. “You’re asking me if I’m alright?” She nodded. “He hurt you too, didn’t he?” “It’s ok, it’s fading.” That wasn’t entirely true. He still felt the sting of the cuts. He took a deep breath and started to undo the ropes. Finally, the knots loosened.

“Can you stand?” He asked. (Y/n) shook her head. “Ok, I’m going to help you get to the bathroom, we need to clean you’re cuts.” He managed to get his arm under her to give her some support. After ten painful minutes they reached the bathtub. Spencer unzipped her dress. “Is this ok?” (Y/n) just nodded absentmindedly. He left her underwear on and sat her into the tub. He found a towel, held it under warm water and proceeded to clean her up. She watched him with half lidded eyes as he carefully dabbed the cloth over her wounds.

“This is not how I imagined you seeing me naked for the first time.” The ghost of a smile appeared on her face. Spencer paused for a moment to look at her. “You imagined that?” A tint of pink appeared on her pale face.

“I know you find it hard to believe, that girls think about you that way, but they do. I do.” Spencer stared at her. He hadn’t realized she really liked him like that.

“How did you imagine it?” He asked as he continued to clean her. As much as he wanted to know, he also needed to get her mind off what was happening right now. She shot him another look. “Wouldn’t you like to know, lover-boy?”

He let out a laugh. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

After a moment of silence, she spoke up. She didn’t look at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the marble floor of the bathroom. “I don’t know. Maybe we both would have been working late and there was no one else except us. And I would walk over to your desk to ask you something and of course you’d know the answer. You always know the answer to anything. I’d listen to you talk...I love when you talk...” She looked so tired. “And I wouldn’t be able to keep it to myself anymore and I would tell you how I felt about you...and you’d kiss me and I would kiss you back...” She hissed as he cleaned on especially deep cut.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” His worried eyes found hers. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “I’m sorry.” He repeated and placed a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, she looked at him with wide eyes. “Can you do it again?” “What?” “Can you kiss me, like you did before?”

Spencer searched her face for a sign of what was going on in her head. Her telling him about what she imagined him doing to her and asking him to kiss her did things to him. Things, he

hadn’t experienced before. He didn’t really know what to do. He didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerable state, but he felt like she needed him.

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead again but before he could, she grabbed his face and pulled him down. “I meant like this.” She whispered before closing the distance between them and capturing his lips. The smell of his cologne still lingered, she needed it like oxygen. She needed him. She placed several more desperate kisses on his lips before pulling back to look at him. A second later Spencer’s hands were on her cheek and on her neck to pull her back again into another kiss. He had imagined this a hundred times but the reality of her soft and lips against his finally made him understand what Edgar Allan Poe had meant by “We loved with a love that was more than love”.

He felt her shiver. He pulled back. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He helped her out of the tub. After he had dried her and given her one of the bathrobes, he helped her into bed.

(Y/n) was tired...so tired. Her head was spinning but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. “Can you stay with me?” She asked. “Of course.” He sat down on the bed. Her eyes wandered over his figure. He had taken of the tuxedo, so he was left with the white dress shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, just the way she liked it. The shirt was stained with her blood and it took her back to this reality.

“You know he does this on purpose.” Spencer’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “He gives us so much time alone, so we get closer and it’s even more painful when does those things to us.” “I don’t care, I won’t leave you alone. Also, we must find a way out of here.” “There is no way out. We have to pray the team finds us before it’s too late.” “There has to be a way out. And we’ll find it. Try to get some rest now.” “I can’t sleep.” “You haven’t even tried yet.” “But I know I can’t.” “But you have to. Pain tolerance is reduced by sleep deprivation.”

(Y/n) shot him a look. “Thanks for the heads up.” Spencer slipped under the blanket and laid an arm around her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. She felt the vibrations through his chest as he began to talk again. “Randy Gradner holds the record for the longest period without sleep. It was 11 days and 25 minutes. He set the record in 1964 when he was only 17. They monitored his health. He had problems concentrating and struggled with paranoia and hallucinations. On the last day he was asked to subtract 7 repeatedly starting with 100. He stopped at 65, when asked why, he said he’d forgotten what he was doing...”

(Y/n) didn’t hear the rest, Spencer’s voice had lulled her to sleep. He felt her shallow but regular breath on his neck. He closed his eyes. He would get her out of here.

Chapter 5

(Y/n) woke up exhausted. They didn’t sleep much. When they woke up it was still dark outside. It took her a second to realize what had woken her up. The door had been opened very loudly and her and Spencer were dragged into the living room area. They were tied to the chairs again. The ropes burned against her already bruised wrists and ankles. To their surprise the two men who had tied them up left. They were alone again.

(Y/n) turned to Spencer. “Please tell me you have a plan. We need to get out fast. If Marshall stays on track, we have less than 48 hours.” Spencer’s brows were furrowed. She could practically hear his mind work. “We need to check the windows if they open. Maybe we can get some sort of sign outside.”

“What if it doesn’t work, what’s our plan B?” “Currently we don’t have a plan B...”

They sat there almost 4 hours before Marshall entered the room. He looked exhausted. (Y/n) felt a twinge of hope. The FBI knew his identity, there was no way he could hide for much longer. “You know, they’ll catch you. You won’t get away with this.” She said.

Marshall turned around at her with a surprised look on his face. “I thought I had messed you up pretty good last night. And you’re still talking back.” He gave her a smile that made her skin crawl. “Maybe this time I’ll try your little boyfriend.” (Y/n) saw the blood drain from Spencer’s face but his expression didn’t change. She knew he was stronger than most people would give him credit for. She wasn’t most people but the thought of him getting tortured made her sick. It wasn’t about the fact that she would feel it too, seeing Spencer in pain was almost worse.

“So, what’s your deal?” She asked. Anything to get him talking, to figure out why he was killing these people. Marshall let out a laugh. “So brave today, aren’t we?” “Why do you keep killing soulmates? Feeling lonely? Didn’t mommy give you enough love when you were a kid?” She saw his smile fade. “Or what, maybe you were in love and she turned you down because she had found her soulmate?” Bull’s eye. His face turned into a grimace again.

“Shut your mouth!” He raised his hand to slap her, but he caught himself just in time. For a second he seemed to try to get his rage under control. Then he leaned down to whisper into her ear. “You’re nothing but a filthy whore and by the time you get out of here there will be almost nothing left of you to identify the body.”

(Y/n) held her breath. She had gained precious information. His main target were the women. He was projecting his abandonment on them. The men were just there because it made the whole ordeal more painful. He had raped the women after their death to regain power, power over the soulmate bond.

“You’ll always be alone, killing and raping these women will never compare to a true connection and you know it.” (Y/n) said. Spencer stared at her. She wasn’t interrogating anymore; she was making him angry. And then it clicked. “(Y/n) stop.” He shot her a pleading look. But she didn’t pay him any mind but instead continued.

“So, how did she break it to you? Did she at least tell you in person?” Marshall took on the color of a plum. “Oh.” A cold laugh escaped her lips. “She didn’t. You weren’t even worth telling face to face.”

“SHUT UP!” Marshall grabbed a glass from the coffee table and threw it at (Y/n). She managed to dodge it and it shattered on the wall behind her.

Spencer began to panic. “(Y/n) stop, I know what you’re doing, stop it you’re going to get hurt!” While he was tied up, there was no way he could help her.

“Is that all you got!?” (Y/n) threw the word in Marshall’s face. His hands were trebling. “You’re ruining everything!” “Oh, am I? Am I ruining your little revenge fantasy? You know that it doesn’t matter how many people you kill; it will never be the same as the time you killed her. She couldn’t fight back, could she?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Marshall took the hunting knife in his hand making his way to (Y/n). To her surprise he didn’t cut her, but the ropes. He grabbed her arm and threw her on the ground. “I’m gonna show you fight!”

(Y/n) struggled to get on her feet. She was still weak, but the adrenaline kicked in as soon as he swung the knife in her direction. She turned her head frantically to look for something she could use as a weapon. Her eyes fell on an expensive vase. She grabbed it and threw it at him. While dodging it he lost the knife.

Everything moved in slow-motion as both made a run for it.

And then she had it, she had the knife. Her fingers curled around the handle. She raised her arm but before she could slam the blade into her attacker, she heard a gunshot.

The first thing she felt was her arm going limp. A few seconds later realization hit her and then a wave of pain washed over her. For a moment she thought she had to throw up. Her vision went blurry and the last thing she felt was a burning hot sensation and wetness on her arm. She heard Spencer yell her name before she lost consciousness.

When (Y/n) woke up again she was sitting in the chair, arms and legs tied up. The pain from her arm radiated through her entire body. She had trouble focusing. The first thing to catch her eye was Spencer whose gaze was fixed on her.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake!” She had never heard him sound this scared. “(Y/n) look at me.” Her head was heavy...her eyes were heavy. “(Y/n) look at me.” She managed to raise

her head, so she was making eye contact. “Listen, you have lost a lot of blood and you’re still bleeding. You need to somehow put pressure on the wound. It’s in your right arm near the shoulder. Try to lean against the chair with that part of your arm. It won’t save you, but it’ll hopefully keep you from bleeding out till I can help you.”

She struggled to hold her eyes open, let alone understand what Spencer was saying to her. Another person appeared in her field of vision. “Just let me help her!” This was Spencer’s voice. “Why should I? I’ll let the bitch bleed out, it’s what she deserves and you’re gonna watch her die.” Was this the unsub’s voice?

“But this is not how you operate normally. This is not how you get your satisfaction, do you want all of this to have been for nothing? You really let one of your men take the kill-shot? She won’t die by your hand but by that guy’s.”

There was silence. After what felt like an eternity, she felt the ropes loosen around her hands and legs. She felt two familiar arms around her. Everything went dark again.

“(Y/n) can you hear me?” This was Spencer’s voice again. “Spencer...why did you put me in the tub again?” She murmured. “What are you talking about? Open your eyes, look at me.” The panic in his voice hadn’t faded. “I’m wet, why did you put me under the shower?” “I didn’t please just open your eyes.”

(Y/n) felt like her eyes were glued shut. After a struggle she finally managed to open them a bit. She was greeted with Spencer’s face hovering over her. Her eyes wandered over his figure and widened as she saw him covered in blood. She wanted to sit up but a sharp pain in her arm held her down. She hissed.

“Spencer what happened, are you hurt, why is there so much blood? Let me help you...” “Calm down, it’s not mine.” He hesitated for a second. “It’s yours. You were shot and almost bled out.” “What? What happened?” You had the knife but before you could do anything, one of the bodyguards came in and shot you, he must’ve heard the commotion.” “Are you ok?” “Will you stop asking me that? You got shot!” “Exactly! You must be in pain too.” “I’m managing, it’s not so bad.” “You’re lying.” “Please don’t worry about me, ok?” “But I do, I worry about you all the time, I know you can handle yourself, but I care about you and I don’t want you to be in pain because of me.” “It’s ok, really.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Spencer bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s focus on how we get out of here.”

“Have you checked the windows?” “They won’t open, it doesn’t surprise me though. We’re on the 30th floor, of course they’re shut.”

(Y/n) let her head fall back onto the pillow. “We’re screwed.” Spencer’s brows furrowed. “What are you thinking?” She asked. “The glass...”

“I don’t follow. The shards aren’t big enough to use as a weapon when he comes back.” “No, that’s not what I mean.”

Without saying another word, he got up and walked into the bathroom. (Y/n) heard glass shattering. “Spencer are you alright?” He came back into the room with a piece from the mirror.

“We can use this to send out an S.O.S. signal.” “How?” “Just watch.”

Spencer walked over to one of the windows. The sun shone into the room. He positioned the mirror in a certain position so that it reflected the sunlight and threw a patch of light onto the ceiling. He moved it so the light would go out of the window. He moved the shard in specific intervals.

“You’re a genius.” (Y/n) almost wanted to laugh. With a little bit of luck, someone would see the light signal. “I know.” He gave her a small smile.

Spencer repeated the pattern until the sun went down. “Now we pray someone saw that.” “Let’s hope it won’t be too late.”

He walked back to the bed. “You have to promise me something.” “What is it?”

He waited for a moment before answering. She looked awful. The bathrobe was soaked in blood, so was her hair. The parts of her skin that showed were covered in cuts and bruises. Her eyes were framed by dark circles. “Promise me you won’t make him angry again. I know you’re trying to protect me, but I wouldn’t know what to do if you sacrificed yourself so that I can get out of here.”

“I can’t promise you that.” “(Y/n), I’m serious.” She could see tears gather in his eyes. “Please...” The urgency in his voice made her heart ache.

With her good arm she reached out to put her hand on his cheek. “Alright, I promise.” Spencer closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She managed to sit up and then position herself on his lap so that she was facing him, legs hooked around him. When he looked up at her there was nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” (Y/n) whispered before leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist, careful not to touch her injured arm that was now bandaged and resting in a makeshift sling. Their chests were pressed together, and she could feel his heartbeat. Her breath became heavier as her fingers made their way into his hair and she tried to pull him even closer. (Y/n)’s cheeks began to heat up. She pulled away to whisper in his ear. “I need you so bad...” She felt him shiver underneath her. She continued to kiss his neck, relishing in the small sighs that escaped his throat.

She was just about to undo the buttons to his dress shirt when he grabbed her hand. “Wait...” “What?” “You can’t do this.”

“What? Why not? I thought you...” She looked around for a few seconds, anything not to meet his gaze and stood up as fast as she could. “I – I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed...I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable...I’m sorry.” Embarrassment washed over her. “I don’t know what came over me, I should’ve asked – I...”

Spencer stood up too walking towards her. She moved back and let out an insecure laugh. “I’m really sorry.” “No don’t be, it’s not that I don’t want to it’s just...” She still couldn’t look at him. “I don’t want to do this when there is a possibility that you just want this because of the circumstances. You might just be feeling about me this way because we’re in a life-or-death situation and I’m taking care of you. I don’t want this to happen just because you project these feelings onto me and regret it once we get out of here.”

(Y/n) stared at him but couldn’t say a word. Instead, Spencer continued. “It’s just, this has happened to me before, kind of, and I don’t want to...” “You don’t want to go through that again, I get it.” She slowly walked towards him. “Then we wait. But I want you to know that I’ve wanted this before we got caught up in this mess and the only things I regret are the ones I didn’t say to you sooner and that I didn’t have the courage sooner. I know this is important to you. I would wait a hundred years if that’s the time you needed. Just promise me you won’t forget me in the end.” She gave him a small smile. He smiled back and pulled her into a hug, still careful as to not to hurt her.

“I could never forget you.” “Can I still kiss you?” Spencer looked into her eyes and he knew he would never be able to say no to that. “Yes, please.” His voice barely a whisper, he cupped her cheeks and pulled her in. This kiss wasn’t desperate, it was sweet and full of unspoken promises and confessions.

Chapter 6

The BAU team had gathered around a table at the precinct. They had defeated looks on their faces. Hotch turned to look again at the wall where they had gathered their information. Morgan and Elle sat at the table, going through the casefiles again. Morgan closed the files and let the folder slap on the table.

“Hotch, please tell me we have a plan?” Hotch didn’t answer immediately. Before he could, JJ walked in. “I have news. There has been an S.O.S. signal from a hotel window at the Palazzo. It could be nothing, but it could be them, we need a SWAT team.”

Morgan jumped up. “I’ll call Garcia to see if she can find them on security footage in the lobby.” “Right, Elle and I will talk to the SWAT team, we may have to prepare for a possible hostage situation.” Hotch said and walked out, Elle right behind him.

(Y/n) and Spencer sat back-to-back with the couch, facing the window. Marshall had come back earlier and this time he hadn’t let (Y/n) distract him from Spencer. He didn’t look good. (Y/n) had taken care of his cuts, just like he had done for her.

“Tonight, is the night...” (Y/n) said while looking out the window. “It’s gonna be alright.” Spencer turned his head to her for a moment. She didn’t seem panicked anymore. She had been when Marshall had tortured Spencer, but after she had taken care of him it was like she had resigned herself to the fact that there was no way out.

“Spencer?” “Yeah?” “I need to tell you something.” “No, you don’t.” “I – I don’t?” She raised an eyebrow.

(Y/n) positioned herself to face Spencer. “Why?” Spencer turned around too. “I know the speech. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to talk like we’re going to die tonight.” “But we could die, and I don’t want to die without having told you how I feel.” “Then I guess you’ll have to survive tonight if you want to tell me how you feel.”

They looked at each other in silence for a while. “I lo –” “No.” Before she could end her sentence, Spencer dipped down to shut her up with a kiss. “You tell me when we get out of here.” “You’re a horrible person.” A smile tugged at her lips.

It was almost idyllic, sitting in a room somewhere over Las Vegas, sun shining through the window. (Y/n) rested her head on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Can I tell you something else?” “Like the time you told me how you imagined me seeing you naked for the first time?” (Y/n) shot him a look. She felt her cheeks heat up. “I think we can both agree that was a moment of weakness.” Spencer let out a laugh. “I think I like your moments of weakness.” She gave him another look but then looked out the window again.

“You know, I still remember the first time I saw you.” She gave him a small smile. “I had just started working for the BAU. They called us in on a Saturday night, it was about the Keystone Killer.” Spencer smiled. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You were so quick to find clues in that word puzzle and...I don’t know. I thought it was cool. Also, you telling Ryan on what page of his book that Francis Bacon quote was on, was kind of funny. And you looked cute with your vest and you had your sleeves rolled up, just like now.”

“You thought I looked cute?” Spencer looked at the carpet, still smiling. (Y/n) nodded. “I did. And every time I saw you after that, I liked you a little more.” She paused for a moment. “The day I realized that I lo – I mean...you know, was on that case with Lila Archers stalker. I knew that I cared for you, but then I got jealous, I didn’t expect that. I had no right, still I knew then.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You were jealous?” She nodded and laughed. “It’s stupid, I know.” “I don’t think it’s stupid, I think it’s cute. Did you know shrimp can feel jealousy too?” “Are you comparing me to shrimp?” “Well apparently you do share some similarities.”

(Y/n) rested her head back on Spencer’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.” He gently stroke her hair. “Me too.” “Do you really think we’ll get out of here?” “I do.” He heard a quiet sniff escape her. When he looked down at her, he saw her cry. Spencer wiped away a tear with his thumb.

“Spencer, I’m scared.” “I know, me too.” He cupped her face. “But I need you to be strong.” “I don’t want to die.” She had trouble holding back sobs. “I just found you, I don’t want to go yet.” They scooted closer. Spencer pulled her face to his, so his forehead resting on hers. “I know, baby, it’s going to be ok.” “I can’t do it.” “Yes you can! You’re strong, I know that.” Spencer brushed his thumb over her lips. “Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?” (Y/n) shook her head.

Spencer brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “When I saw you for the first time, I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t really know what to say. You were so confident, despite being new and I whished I could be as confident as you. So, I tried to impress you, I guess I know now that it worked.” He let out a small laugh. “I didn’t think someone like you would ever go for someone like me. I guess I tried to get you out of my head with Lila. Obviously, it didn’t

work. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve always admired your bravery, you never give up and you can’t give up now.”

“I’ve got them.” Gracias voice rang through the speakers of a laptop surrounded by the other team members. “They’re on the security footage from two days ago in the lobby of the Palazzo. Rory Marshall is with them. They take the elevator, from there I lost them.” “It’s alright, thank you Garcia.” Hotch said. “We know the signal came from the 32nd floor. “That’s still a lot of hotel rooms.” Morgan chewed on a pen.

“Garcia, check how many suites are on that floor.” Hotch turned to the laptop again.

After a few seconds of keyboard clicking, Garcia spoke up again. “There’s five suites.” “Thank you.” Hotch turned to the others. “Get ready, we have to go in now, they don’t have much time left.”

(Y/n) had fallen asleep on Spencer’s shoulder. She woke up from a loud noise. Marshall entered the room, gun in his hand. “Stand up! Both of you. Get in the chairs.”

Something was wrong. Marshall didn’t wear his normal cocky grin. His was erratic, sweat covered his forehead. They didn’t move. “I said now!” Marshall shouted, pointing the gun at Spencer. They hurried to the chairs. Not two minutes later, they were tied up again.

“Your friends are here.” Marshall’s face had returned to that grimace he wore when he was getting angry.

(Y/n) felt hope rise in her chest. But as soon as the feeling came, it left her. Marshall had no reason to keep them alive anymore. He had no time to live out his fantasy. On the other hand, her and Spencer were his ticket out of here. Correction, her or Spencer could be his ticket out of here.

Marshall’s phone rang. He struggled to pick it up with one hand, his other one still clammed around the gun, uninterruptedly pointing it at Spencer. “Hello?” (Y/n) didn’t know if it was the tiredness or the desperation, but she could swear the voice on the end was Gideon’s.

“They’re right here...yeah...” Marshall shot them a look. “Yeah...” He repeated and handed the phone to Spencer, or rather held it to his ear. (Y/n) could see Spencer visibly relaxed as he heard Gideon’s voice. “Yeah we’re fine.” He said and shot (Y/n) a look. “(Y/n) was shot but we’ve got it under control.”

“Ok, that’s enough.” Marshall took the phone back. “I want a helicopter. And cash. By 9 p.m. sharp.” He hung up.

(Y/n) shifted in her seat. There was no way, Hotch would give him a helicopter. Regardless, there was one more thing she wanted to know. “How could you tell?” She turned her head to Marshall. “Tell what?” He snapped back. She had to be careful, he was on edge, everything looked like a possible threat right now.

“How could you tell we were actual soulmates? I only found out the day before myself.” Marshall shrugged. “I don’t know, I just knew when I saw you.”

“Actually, I could have an explanation.” Spencer chimed in. “There are studies that show that predators can pick out people that have previously been victims. They subconsciously learn to read body language and micro expressions to identify them. Because of this you’re chance of getting assaulted are higher, if you’ve been assaulted before.”

“Ok, enough of this psychoanalysis-bullshit. Shut up, I need to think.” Marshall started pacing around the room again.

It didn’t take long before the phone rang again. (Y/n) could hear Gideon’s voice again. He tried to negotiate the release of one of them. “One of my agents has been shot, let her go and we’ll prepare your demands.” Marshall hesitated. “I’ll send one of them to the roof, but I’ll decide which one.” Without waiting for the answer, he hung up.

Spencer immediately propped himself up on the chair. “Let her go, she needs medical attention.” The grin had returned. “No, I think I’ll keep her. You can go.” Spencer began to pale. “Please, let her go, you can keep me.”

“Shut up, I’m calling the shots and I say she stays!” He waved the gun around.

(Y/n) turned to look at Spencer. “It’s alright, I’ll be fine, please just go.” He could tell she was scared again and this time there was nothing he could do to help her. Every fiber in his body screamed to stay by her side and not to leave her alone with this psycho.

Marshall undid Spencer’s ropes and pointed the gun to his head. “Go.” Spencer hesitated. He shot (Y/n) one last look. She mouthed the word ‘go’. The second the hotel door closed behind him Spencer started to sprint to the elevator. He pushed the button to the last floor a few too many times, as if that would get him up there faster.

When he finally arrived on the roof, where they had negotiated the exchange, he was greeted by the rest of the BAU. JJ pulled him into a hug before he was put in a bulletproof vest. “What happened?” Hotch and Gideon were by his side in seconds. “What does the situation look like down there?”

Spencer closed the last Velcro straps on his vest. “As far as I could tell, Marshall is alone. I’m guessing some of his men left, when they got wind that the FBI was raiding the place. (Y/n)’s been hurt pretty badly. One of Marshall’s men shot her in the arm. We could stop the bleeding but I’m afraid it’ll get infected. She’s tied up and Marshall is losing it. We need to go in now.”

“I understand.” Hotch nodded. “But we need to be careful. If we move too fast, he could panic and kill her.” He turned to Spencer. “I understand you’re impatient, but we need to keep a cool head.” Spencer nodded. As soon as Hotch stepped away to talk to Gideon, Derek came up to Spencer, reassuringly putting a hand on his shoulder. “Is it true?” He asked. “What do you mean?” Spencer’s head was every except on the roof. “Is she really your soulmate?” Spencer nodded. “She told me the night before, but we didn’t get a chance to talk about it.” “We’ll get her out of there, don’t worry, man.” Spencer gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. “Wait, if she’s been shot, didn’t you feel that too? You need to get checked up by a medic.” “I’m not leaving until she’s out of there.” Derek had rarely seen this level of determination on Spencer’s face. He nodded. “I understand.”

(Y/n) felt the panic come back. Now that Spencer was gone, she realized just how much of her mental stability had depended on him. He was only gone for two hours now and he already seemed so far away. She would have given anything to be in his arms again now.

Marshall was still pacing through the room. She could tell he was weighing his chances of coming out of this alive. (Y/n) just hoped he wouldn’t come to the conclusion that there was no way out and decide that he would take her with him as his final act of revenge. It didn’t look good. He was talking to himself, but she couldn’t understand the words. She took a deep breath. Spencer would try to talk his way out of this, but because she had antagonized herself the day before, there was a slim chance he would listen to her. She had to try.

“Rory?” He snapped his head around, bewildered by the fact she had used his first name. She could tell, he wasn’t used to that. As a person with this much power and money, she could imagine that he had few people who were so close to him that they would address him by his first name. “Rory, I know what you’re thinking about –” “You don’t know shit! Why would you know what I’m thinking about?” “You’re feeling trapped and you try to decide what to do.” “Shut up!”

(Y/n) waited for a minute. “What was her name?” “What!?” “What was the woman’s name? The one that broke your heart.” Marshall hesitated before answering. “Heather.” “What did you like about her?” “She was smart, and beautiful. I couldn’t believe it when she said yes to going to dinner with

me.” (Y/n) could tell by the look on his face that he was reminiscing that time in his life. There was this almost soft look in his eyes. “If you walk out of here alive there is a chance you might find someone new someday.” She said cautiously, never letting Marshall out of her sight. Marshall’s face hardened.

“What the fuck do you know?” She had made a mistake. “There will never be anyone else for me and now she’s dead because of me!” He started to raise his voice and his movements became more and more erratic. “Why did she have to meet that guy? It’s her fault I had to kill her, if she’d just stayed with me, we could have been happy!” The crazy look had returned to his face. “You’re all like this! You go around, thinking you can play with people until some fucking asshole comes along who’s supposed to be your soulmate and you think that gives you the right to drop everyone!” In three big strides he was right in front of her, pressing the barrel of the gun directly to her forehead. “I should just kill you too, one less bitch to walk this earth, I bet your little boyfriend will be heartbroken.” She saw the ecstasy in his eyes. “Maybe then he’ll know what it feels like.”

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to conjure up images of Spencer. If she died here and now, she wanted him to be the last thing she thought about. She tried to remember the feeling of his lips on hers, the smell of his cologne, the softness of his hair and the sound of his voice hen he told her everything would be alright.

“I love you.” She whispered so quite that Marshall couldn’t hear it. A gunshot rang through the suite.

Chapter 7

When he heard the gunshot, Spencer froze. The SWAT team had stormed the suite, but he was still behind them in the hallway. The moment seemed to drag on forever. The sound burned itself into his mind. He wanted to move but the thought of what was waiting for him in that suite wouldn’t let him. In that moment he hated himself for not letting (Y/n) tell him those three words.

It wasn’t until Derek appeared by his side that he woke up from his trance. Spencer’s feet moved by themselves. He didn’t want to go into that room. As soon as he did, whatever had happened would irrevocably become reality. He hated himself for being such a coward.

“Spencer?” The floor was covered in blood, brain splattered across the carpet, that undoubtedly cost more than his entire apartment. She looked up at him with big eyes. He could see the body of Rory Marshall, who had spent his last seconds in shock as the SWAT team had kicked down the door and taken him out, before he could pull the trigger. His head was empty as he rushed to her, taking her into his arms, holding on to her like his life depended on it. He felt her sob into his shoulder. It was so good to hear her voice. “I love you, I love you, I love you...” She whispered. He pulled back just a bit to look at her. “I love you too, I love you so much and I’m so sorry...I could’ve lost you without telling you.”

She let out a weak laugh. He buried his face in her neck. “I’ll never leave you ever again, I promise.” “I’ll never leave you too, promise.”

The hospital room was dimly lit. Spencer sat at (Y/n)’s bedside. He had laid his head in her lap and fallen asleep with her fingers tangled in his messy hair. She watched his chest rise and fall peacefully. After a while she fell asleep too.

A few days later (Y/n) was released and Spencer insisted to take her home. As they stepped into her apartment, Spencer remained at the door, unsure of what to do. (Y/n) turned around. “Don’t you want to come in?” “Do you want me to come in? I thought maybe you wanted some time to yourself...”

(Y/n) dumped her bag on the couch and walked back to him. He was a bit taller than her, so she had to stand on her tip toes to reach him. She pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I want you.” She said quiet but determined. Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Maybe you should rest, you’re just tired.”

She grabbed his face. “Spencer, listen to me. I’ve had a whole week to rest. You don’t need to worry I’m not in the right state of mind to make a decision. I haven’t changed my mind about you.” She was so close, their lips almost touched. “If you want me to stop, I will...”

Spencer looked at her, feeling like he was in a dream. She kissed him and it was like his head was empty again. That didn’t happen very often to Spencer. There was always something, some thought, some doubt, eating away at him but when she took his bottom lip between her teeth, everything was gone. She took his hand leading him to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of her bed, while she stood in front of him, taking her shirt of.

“Let me show you, how much I care about you.” She said, before straddling him. Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He had dreamed about this moment for so long, he was mesmerized by her. The signs of torture were still visible. He traced a few healed cuts with his thumb. He felt her shiver under his light touch. He looked up at her, meeting her half- lidded eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Are you nervous?” Spencer nodded. His fingertips kept wandering over her waist, caressing her soft skin. “You tend to have that effect on me.” (Y/n)’s smile grew. “I make you nervous?” Spencer nodded again. She raised her hand to run it through his hair. The slow strokes seemed to calm him down. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He felt her hands travel down his face, his neck, to the collar of his shirt. “Can I take it off?” Spencer opened his eyes again. “Yes please.” He watched her fingers unbutton his shirt. She moved painfully slow. Undoubtedly as to not overwhelm him, but something told him it was more then that. She was teasing him, and it was working. He felt the tension grow.

(Y/n) slid the shirt over his arms, fingers tracing over his skin. She felt him getting goosebumps and a slight shiver making its way through his body. She brought her hands back to his face, lifting it to make him look at her. “Do you know, how beautiful you are?” She whispered before stealing a small kiss. “I could look at you for all eternity and never get bored.” “Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.” “So we’re quoting Hume now?” (Y/n) smiled. “God, I love you so much...” Spencer pulled her back into the kiss. One of his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her closer.

(Y/n) pulled away. “Aren’t you getting impatient?” She stood up to take of the rest of her clothes, but Spencer stopped her by putting his hand on her arm. He stood up, so (Y/n) had to look up again to look him in the eyes. “Let me...” His hands wandered over her waist to her back, unclasping her bra. For a moment she mused where he had learned to do that so well, but the thought was gone as fast as it came when her undergarment fell to the floor and she suddenly realized how bare she was in front of him. The urge to cover herself up never came though. Spencer looked at her like he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and truthfully, he hadn’t.

They got rid of the rest of their clothes before (Y/n) led Spencer to the bed. She waited a moment on the bedside. Spencer grabbed her arm, to pull her into the bed. She landed in his arms but before she could get comfortable, Spencer rolled over, trapping her underneath him. A grin spread on his face.

“You can’t tease me forever.” His locks fell into his face, framing it perfectly.

He dipped down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. He didn’t want to waste another second. He had waited for so long and then he had almost lost her. His lips traveled to her jaw, down to her neck. A sigh escaped her mouth. “Spencer...” She whispered. He continued to pepper kisses down on her chest, over her stomach. She felt his lips graze the skin on her inner thigh. One kiss at a time he came closer to the place she was aching for him to touch.

(Y/n) buried her fingers in his hair, guiding him. When his tongue slid through her wet folds, she couldn’t hold back her moans anymore. Between the obscene sounds, that filled the bedroom, she repeated Spencer’s name over and over, like a mantra. He loved to hear his name fall from her desperate lips. Her breath was getting irregular, he could tell she was close. He pulled back, only to lift himself up, so he could kiss her. He knew she could taste herself on him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

After a while, (Y/n) broke the kiss to sit herself up. She crawled over the bed, guiding Spencer, until he sat on the edge and she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She ran her hands up his thighs, never breaking eye contact. She could tell, he was holding his breath.

“Relax...” She placed a few kisses on his thighs before slowly taking him into her mouth. Spencer inhaled sharply. Now he was the one with his fingers tangled in her hair, lewd sounds and profanities leaving his mouth.

(Y/n) could feel him trying to hold back but he was struggling. Satisfied with the effect she had on him, she started to work her way up his abdomen until she reached his neck, sucking on it, careful not to leave marks above where the collar of his shirt would close. She seated herself on his lap. Her hands reached around his neck for support when she slid down on him. Both took in a sharp breath. Spencer’s eyes were closed and his mouth slightly agape when he let out a soft moan. That sound alone could have driven (Y/n) over the edge. She waited a second to adjust to the feeling of being filled up by Spencer.

“You feel so good...” Spencer whispered in the crook of her neck. He sank his teeth into her soft skin, sending shivers down her spine. “You too.” She managed to say between breathy moans. Spencer had started to move slowly. His hands were tightly gripping her thighs to guide her own movements.

“Oh god...” She moaned while dropping her head on his shoulder. Her nails dug into his back. “Spencer, I won’t last very long...” “It’s ok, baby...” His strokes were getting deeper. “Say my name again...” “S-spencer I –” She felt her orgasm build up.

“Again.” “Spenc-aah”

Spencer could feel her tighten around him. Her nails left bright red scratch marks on his back. She cried out his name again and while she was wrapped so tightly around him, he felt his own release.

(Y/n) and Spencer were both panting heavily, sweat covering their foreheads. They just stared at each other for a few seconds. “You’re amazing.” A smile spread on Spencer’s face. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Her cheeks were glowing red.

“I’m not the only one.” She smiled back.

After cleaning themselves up they laid back in the bed. (Y/n)’s head was resting on Spencer’s chest. He was playing with her hair while she drew small patterns on his stomach. “Was it how you had imagined?” Spencer asked. She raised her head to look at him. “Better.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I never imagined it could feel so right to be with someone.”

“Me neither.” He paused for a moment. “I love you so much, it’s driving me crazy.” (Y/n) propped herself up to get a better look at him. There was nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. “I love you too, I never want to spend another day without you.” “You don’t have to, I promise I’ll never leave your side.”

(Y/n) put her head back on Spencer’s chest. After a while she had fallen asleep. 

“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” - Aristotle

[cultlix]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

pair. recovering alcoholic! felix x recovering alcoholic! fem reader | genre. strangers-to-lovers, love lust at first sight, smut, slight angst | warnings. public sex, mutual masturbation, mentions of alcohol and smoke, allusion to depression.

synopsis. He laughs and somehow the air seems less frozen, the night less threatening. But danger still wafts there, undisturbed, engulfing everything like a blanket of smoke, as this desire, unforeseen, illogical, a restless butterfly flying over a minefield.

author's note. hi everyone! this is my first post and i couldn't be more electrified and terrified at the same time. hope you enjoy this story as much as i did while writing it but, otherwise, if you should ever feel upset or uncomfortable, please discontinue reading. thanks in advance for the time you'll decide to dedicate to my work.

➽──────────────❥

First it was nothingness.

An abstract concept to you, a silent reaper taking others' existences like pulling cards from the deck, mantling minds, slashing souls.

When you stretched out to look at its depths, it felt somehow due, necessary. In the deafening quietness of obedience, been swallowed by its vastness looked almost like a choice, never an aftermath.

Numbness came later. Amber liquids served in crystal glasses tasting like oblivion, like the promise of a ceasefire, an amnesty with your deep-seated urge to acquiesce, to please.

Now those who once idolized you as a monument of integrity are the ones who sew a scarlet letter on your chest. And yet, freefalling into that spiral of rashness was worth the loss of their esteem, their respect. Alcohol was never the main problem, your strict parents were, your demanding professors, and whoever taught you to demonize any form of failure.

But your worst defeat was granting them the power to indoctrinate you with this tenet, to pollute your brain.

You think about it each time you park your car in front of the A.A. meetings building, tonight like any other night, with a cigarette slowly consuming between your cracked lips, when you turn off the tapeplayer and echoes of old tunes still linger in the cabin, like spectres haunting a house, whispering stories you struggle to recognize as your own, recollecting fragments of a past that come and go in flares of rage and regret.

"Do you have a light?"

A guy stands in front of your open window. His skin is gilded like sand sprinkled on hands, ticklish between fingers, smelling like the salty breeze of a beach getaway. His voice is calm, profound, reminding the distant lapping of the waves against the shore.

You hand him your Zippo, the only thing that's left of a long term relationship started in your sophomore year of college. It almost persuaded you to wear a wedding veil but, in hindsight, it might have felt more like a crown of thorns around your head.

"Such a disgusting habit, yeah?" he admits, his big brown eyes sparkling behind long lashes that flutter for the proximity of the flame.

You get out of the car, closing the door and throwing away the cigarette butt. "Absolutely."

"I've tried quitting a million times, but I guess I'm not that good at setting goals."

"If we were, we wouldn't hold this conversation," you remark.

He runs his hand through his long, blond strands, tucking them behind his ear as he inhales avidly the smoke into his lungs. The tip of his tongue tracing the peaks of his Cupid's bow as he ventures locking eyes with you intently.

"And that would be a bummer."

You feel like your moral compass is at the mercy of his gaze, a dreamcatcher in the wind swaying at each violent gust. He smells like havoc and the inclination to chase it at any cost, slithering under your skin like an infection and digging deep in your heart. It blends with his cologne, hints of sage and vetiver, sucker punching your reason, blurring every notion you have of thin lines and boundaries. As most of the things that may lead you to perdition, this one, this beautiful stranger, is impossible to ignore, to decline.

"Felix," he says, waiting for his hand to be shaken.

"Y/N," you answer holding it, as the whole picture becomes clearer, the potential damage more evident. His touch is too casual, too fleeting to leave you so starved, caught in the crossfire between impulse and control, awaking tamed emotions you're not supposed, not allowed to feel.

"How long, Y/N?"

You show him your sobriety coin, now a makeshift keychain. "Three years."

"Same. Is it just me or you also still feel like dancing blindfolded on the edge of a cliff?" Felix takes the cig out of his mouth, watching the rolling paper burning down to the tan filter.

"Uhm, I only dance after a couple of shots, so..."

He laughs and somehow the air seems less frozen, the night less threatening. But danger still wafts there, undisturbed, engulfing everything like a blanket of smoke, as this desire, unforeseen, illogical, a restless butterfly flying over a minefield.

"I've done worst things than dancing, though."

"Ooh, a competion. Go ahead, amaze me," you press him, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, losing my job, distancing friends..."

"Dropping out of college, cancelling a wedding..."

Felix shows his palms as a sign of surrender. "Wow, that's tough, can't beat that."

He nods, then bites the inside of his mouth, pondering. "Fucking random people in a hall because you can't even make it to the doorway of their apartment and not giving a shit about getting caught."

"Who needs to drink for that?" you lean against your car, your eyes studying him, challenging him, betraying that ravenousness swept under the rug, floating in a corner of your mind where fantasies are not dicey sparks caressing the instinct, but deadly weapons.

He gets closer, leisurely, his gaze holding the same magnificence of a midsummer dusk tinged with cerulean and shell-pink shades.

"Not us," he asserts, his voice lowering, his angelic appereance buried under thick layers of brazenness.

"Nuh-uh. That would be a bummer."

"If we did," he continues, moving towards you, careful to detect any sign of reluctance for this outburst of audacity, "we wouldn't hold this conversation."

The sweetest of all menaces, the most sublime descent into the netherworld. Your same recklessness reflected in his eyes, a twin flame still burning unperturbed between dust and wreckages, fed by the mutual, feverish need to find relief in a contact, corporeal, earthly, real.

"You should have quitted smoking," you say under your breath, skimming the faux fur of his collar, feeling his chest resonating with each frantic beat of his heedless heart.

"You should have never looked so beautiful," he replies, emprisoning your frame between his and your car, forcing you to slightly open your legs. You sigh for how big he already is still confined to his clothes, for the friction, intense yet gentle, unexpected.

"So now it's my fault, right?" you try to articulate, waiting for him to grow, to throb, to rub unabashedly against your warmth, but he takes his time, twirling your hair around his fingers, his index sliding from your cheek to your collarbone.

"Oh, poor kitty, why's the world so mean to her?" He pouts playfully, index still tracing your exposed skin, "what a curse being a fucking temptress caged in an angel body. How can she be in any way responsable for that?"

"This is gonna wreck us in ways you can't even imagine..."

"Right now the only thing I can imagine is how I'd like to wreck this lovely mouth of yours," he whispers brushing his thumb against your lips, staring how easily they open at such a delicate pressure, foretasting, asking himself how they would wrap around him, how they would empty him.

You guide his hand on your hip, on the waist band of your jeans, his cold, hesitant fingers unbuttoning them, unzipping them just enough to reach the flimsy fabric of your panties, to sink in the sacredness of the forbidden, to stroke it, to find, under the fragile seams, the incarnation of your yearning, so tangible, implacable, overflowing.

"Shit."

You lead his fingertips against your folds, on your nub, swollen, sensitive, making flutter your eyelids when he starts circling it, limbs and voice shaking in the throes of a sudden, forgotten pleasure, words coming off in syncopated sighs.

"And you? Will you take any responsibility for the mess you've made of me?"

Felix tries to cover you with his coat while he drowns even more deeply, feeling you clutching and then surrendering to his presence, his fingers moving unhurriedly as your smell pervades his lungs, inebriating him. He almost squashes you against the car, his breath uneven, his groans throaty, breaking the stillness of the street when you palm him through his jeans, his hardness quivering underneath your firm touch.

Your hand glides inside his underwear, alabaster white rivulets of lust smear your digits, soften your movements, measured, consuming. He lowers his head, a cascade of golden silk partly draping his expression, half chary, half abandoned, torn between restraint and rapture.

This hankering's devastating, a cancer, seeping between his bones, corroding his discernment. His languid eyes can barely camouflage how it impels him to chase the thrill to tread treacherous grounds, to crash into the vortex.

He kisses you, he tears you to pieces with his teeth, dulls your sense with his tongue, he scratches and heals with the same carelessness of a torturer pointing out his supremacy. It's feral, liberating, the closest thing to defiance, to escape. Just two shadows, two solitudes combining, colliding in a dance of frenzied hands and insatiable bodies, suspended in a seraphic moment of alienation, lost in the illusion of an idyllic annihilation. It culminates in tremors and quavers, sighs overlap at unison, flesh blazing, muscles spasming in complete synergy, as he curls his arts in your cavity for the last time, as your grip strenghtens to prolong the chafing.

The awakening is harsh, cruel for both, like the glacial wind outside. Reality jostles to suffocate you again with its grey torpor.

"It was fun skipping the 'Can I get you a drink?' part for once," you pant.

"Totally," he answers, fastening his belt again.

"Healthier," you comment, absentmindedly.

"Cheaper."

You slap his arm and he chuckles.

"You know what I mean."

"Now comes the part where we pretend we'll see each other again."

Felix zips up your jacket, fixing your hair. "Who needs to pretend?" he states, gently grabbing your chin. "Not us."

"Not us," you echo.

© cultlix, 2024. all rights reserved.

[strawberryblue-blog]

could you do birthday sex smut with Pedri

Like old times —Pedri González.

summary: Pedri invites you to meet his friends on his birthday and it ends like you never expected.

warnings: YES. +18. smut, friends to lovers, cute, soft.

words count: +2k.

#SEXYNOTE: Happy birthday to our Pedri (late) We love youuuu 🩷

Laughter spilled through the house as the voices talked about things. You were talking to a friend of Pedri's while he was talking about you, remembering things from the past. Today was your best friend's birthday and all his friends had come to celebrate. Your old childhood friend that even though you still saw each other from time to time, you had agreed to be close friends. But you hadn't been able to see each other lately because of his work and your studies. You were more than happy that he invited you to have dinner with them today for his birthday, with his teammates that you were excited to meet.

They were great, you barely talked to them but you already got along so well. Pedri kept talking about you. About your childhood. Old anecdotes brought back vivid memories of your times, everyone laughed and commented. You could tell that some were a little more over the top than others and the birthday boy was not far behind.

You felt melancholy. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fleeting glances you and Pedri gave each other as you reminisced. His eyes looked at you with that same sparkle they had when you were young and you're sure yours sparkled like that too. All night long you had been giving each other complicit, honeyed and challenging glances. As if you owed something to each other. As if you were waiting for something from each other. Still, you tried to make the most of your time with his friends. It wasn't every day you were surrounded by people as nice as they were.

You dined, drank, talked, toasted and ate cake. Everything was perfect. The reunion had been successful and most of them were already starting to say goodbye to go home.

"It was nice to meet the famous Y/n!" said Ferran, hugging you fleetingly. You hugged him nicely too.

They all agreed, smiling.

"It's pleasure is all mine, guys" you thanked towards them.

"We have to do it more often" Gavi said before hugging you goodbye. "If Pedri accepts, I don't think he's that happy about it" he whispered when he reached your ear. His hug lasted a little longer than the others and your heart skipped a beat when you heard it.

Behind you was Pedri, looking at you somewhat seriously while still holding Gavi in a hug. You heard a chuckle from him and hid your laughter. He winked at you when you pulled away and you smiled at him.

"All right, bye" Pedri muttered, running to Gavi quickly and dragging him to the door. Everyone burst out laughing in amusement.

You shook your head ignoring him. You were her best friend, none of that would change by hanging out with the boys.

Pedri escorted them out, while you stayed behind to sort things out. You felt a little guilty about the mess and you weren't going to let Pedri set everything up alone in the morning.

"Y/n, leave it. Tomorrow I'll clean up" he said when he got back to the house.

"Please, let me do it" you asked with a look, Pedri snorted but had no choice when you kept putting things together.

You stayed a while longer, tidying up, washing and chatting. You didn't mind helping him at all, in fact you were enjoying it. He kept catching you up on his life and you took the opportunity to tell him about yours. It had been a long time since you had had a conversation as deep and lively as this one and finally you and Pedri were alone.

"Would you like one more drink?" he asked as you sat down to rest on the couch after you finished.

"I think I need to go home" you say with a grimace.

"Come on!" he squeals in amusement. "It's my birthday" he pouts. "Besides you could stay, there's an extra room if you want..."

His eyes pleaded for you to accept, it was obvious you were both excited to see each other again. You weren't going to deny it, you had been waiting all night for a moment alone with him, just like old times. You wanted to stay but were afraid to admit it.

"Okay, let's open another bottle" you nod smiling.

He goes to kitchen for another champagne from the fridge and two clean glasses. He returns, sits down on the sofa with a chuckle and pours the glasses carefully, still talking. You've never seen him as chatty as he is tonight, he was enjoying his alone time and you wanted to know all about him. Once again, you toast clinking your glasses and you bite your lip nervously. You take a hurried drink, trying to calm your anxieties. Your heart started pounding and you begin to hesitate as you smile thinly.

"Remember when we ran away from home to go to camp with Fer?" you asked with a laugh as you continued to reminisce.

He long a laugh as he remembered. It had been when you were six years old, Fer and his friends had gone camping at the beach and you curious little kids followed them to go too. You had run away from home, as your parents had not let you go, since you were small. But you wanted to see the waves and become teenagers like the others.

"I still remember that I didn't leave home for at least three months because of the punishment" Pedri river denying. "And when we fell out of the tree hammock?" he said and you burst out laughing.

That had been another experience. Your father had told you not to ride in the tree hammock together because he clearly wasn't going to put up with it but you didn't know what that meant and did it anyway. Said and done, the hammock didn't hold and the branch snapped, making you fall in a big crash that you still remember perfectly.

You sighed trying to stop laughing, your belly already hurt and you felt dizzy.

"Remember when we kissed for the first time?" you ask with a shy laugh, grimacing in embarrassment.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you remember their first kiss. Yes. Your first kiss had been with Pedri when you were thirteen. You watched everyone kiss, Fer and his girlfriend at the time, your parents, your friends, the movies, everyone. You wanted to have your kiss too and you were grown up, according to you.

"It was terrible" guffawed Pedri clutching his belly. "We didn't even know how to do it"

Another guffaw comes out of your mouth. Tears were starting to build up from the laughter, your belly ached and you had no desire left. It was definitely the best time.

"We didn't know what to do with our tongues, it was so gross" you remembered and again laughed out loud.

He catches it and laughs too. For some reason, his laughter makes you feel a knot in your stomach. It's so magical. It takes you back to those moments where you were soul mates, inexperienced and curious young people, trying to find yourselves in each other. Your friendship with Pedri was one of the most precious things you had.

The laughter begins to subside and you stare at each other. Her face is slightly flushed, probably from the alcohol, his gaze shining in the dim light of the room. His hair is tousled and looks so soft it makes you want to comb it. You swallow saliva as your gazes never leave each other's eyes. So deep that you feel spellbound. You smile a little shyly, your heart races with every second, your chest tightens and you want to keep talking to him. You love to hear his voice, his laughter. You want to keep remembering your moments with Pedri, because every time you listen to him he makes you feel a special spark inside you.

But you don't really feel like talking. You want to touch him, to pull him closer to you, to kiss him. To have him as close to you as possible.

The silence is overwhelming and uncomfortable. Your gazes are still glued like chewing gum on your shoe Your breaths are agitated and irregular. You want to kiss him so badly. You don't know when he moved but he's so close to you, you doubt if it was you who approached. You don't know, you're lost in his eyes.

"Just like old times" he murmurs taking your hand gently. "You and me"

You smile biting your lip. You nod without even being able to speak, your heart soars and your pulse rises. It's just him and you. It's just the two of you.

His gaze pleads for something you understand perfectly. But neither of you dare make a move. You're so scared you're afraid of misreading the situation. If you kiss him, there's no turning back and you don't know if he wants that.

Minutes pass and you're still there, looking at each other. With feelings afloat as they continue to bloom on your breasts.

You bite your lip, sighing slowly. And without thinking and you jump into his mouth, kissing him with some fear.

It's a soft touch, as if asking for permission. Pedri accepts it and quickly with your hands encircle his cheeks as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

He wanted to kiss you, you wanted to kiss him. It was the perfect moment to remember old times. You kiss for eternity, savoring each other, feeling each other, remembering each other. This time the kiss is nothing compared to that first kiss you had more than ten years ago.

It's hard, sure and hot. Although his lips taste exactly like they used to at that moment and your heart felt the same as it used to feel some time ago. Agitated, needy and in love with Pedri.

You want to kiss him. You want to touch him. You want to feel him.

His body traps yours and he lays you down on the couch, still kissing, his hands caressing every corner of your skin while your fingers hold the dark fibers of his hair. His touch burns into your skin, leaving warm traces that will be marked for life in your heart. His lips walk down your neck, it's rough but sweet at the same time, gasps escape from your mouths. You can't stop kissing you, over and over again. From seeing each other, from feeling each other, from remembering each other.

Your hands begin to undress your body, removing your shirt and skirt, your fingers caress every corner of your skin, touching it. Yours help him take off his shirt and then play in his soft hair, his body presses against yours as your legs embrace his bare back. You don't want to stop kissing him, you don't want him to stop. You need him.

"Are you okay?" he whispers as his forehead presses against yours Your confused look makes him hesitate but it's not because you want to stop. "Do you want to go on?"

"Yes, I do" you say holding his red cheeks. But you take the time to watch him. Above you, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed from the heat beginning to rise in your bodies, his eyes shining like mirrors, his chest heaving.

It is beautiful. Through his gaze you can still see the boy only four years old who came to play with you on the playground, the only boy who didn't judge you and came to you, the boy who visited you every day after school, the boy who taught you how to kick and a thousand other things that live forever in your heart.

"Kissing you that day wasn't really gross, Peter" you murmur sincerely.

Yes, maybe it was in a sense. You didn't know how to do it, it was slobbery, short and it felt awful. But on the other hand it was innocent, tender and delicate. It was the beginning of everything. Your feelings were never the same as before after that.

"It was beautiful" you whisper as his fingers stroke your hair, he tucks a loose strand behind your ear and smiles. "It was magical" you admit excitedly.

"You are beautiful" he says looking so deep into your eyes. "It was the best first kiss I could have ever had."

You smile nostalgically as you continue to talk through your eyes.

“Let me show you how much I missed you” he asks in a whisper as his nose plays with yours. “Let me show you when I love you.”

A small tear escapes down your cheek falling. He catches it before it touched your skin. Your head is about to explode, the butterflies in your belly feel like dinosaurs.

“Only if you also let me do the same” you also whisper with a small smile.

His lips kiss yours again, this time firmer, more desperate. His mouth leaves no room on yours and he kisses you fiercely, as if he wants to devour you. And he does. His hands roam over your belly and chest, making small gentle touches to acknowledge your skin. Finally they reach for your bra pin and unclasp it, removing it from your body. His eyes slide over your round breasts, you let him see them, admire them, know them. Your stomach vibrates as he licks his lips and you smile with laughter.

Your fingers take his jeans and unbutton them, seeking to feel his body closer to yours. He lifts up a little to take it off, dragging it down with his underwear and you stare at him for a second. You'd seen other naked bodies but none of them resemble Pedri's. He is perfect.

He turns to you and takes the panties from your sides asking for permission with his eyes, which you quickly accept with a smile. As many say, a picture is worth a thousand words and the way Pedri just looked at you, he just made a testament.

You find yourselves completely naked, looking at each other, as your hearts beat in tandem. Your breaths meet again as you kiss again. Like a magnet their mouths attract each other again and again. As they begin to touch, to know each other, to meet again. Her hands encircle your breasts and squeeze them, making you gasp with pleasure. Yours hold his ass firm, pulling him closer to you. His kisses follow a trail down your neck, down your skin, his lips find your nipples and you kiss them softly. Gently. Moans come out of your mouth, his eyes have never left yours, it's as if they've been bonded for life. Your bodies hot, needy, waiting to join. He positions himself at your entrance and gently moves in, probing your wetness as he makes room between your walls. Your mouth opens and lets out a moan as you feel his cock fit perfectly into your cavity, it's slow and smooth, not even moving. His gaze never leaves yours as your hands hold his face so close to yours that they almost rub together.

You don't need to say anything. Your eyes, your feelings, your hearts have said enough. Skin to skin. Joining together, and I don't mean blissfully sexual. Something beyond a bodily union. But something deeper and more spiritual.

It is a magical moment. So unreal that you doubt if it is a dream but his movements make you believe that he is inside you. Inside your heart. Inside your soul. You hold tight to his neck as he begins to thrust faster, though his movements are delicate, smooth and deep. It feels so good. Him. You. Together tonight. United in soul and body.

Something you had dreamed of your whole life. From that innocent and premature kiss you had out of curiosity until today when you saw him talking about you and the complicit glances you gave each other. Tonight was special for him and it was special for you too.

“Happy birthday, love of my life” you whisper with a proud smile.

His body stops inside you and you feel an emptiness in your chest but his eyes make everything about you vibrate.

“You are the best gift, you are my dream” he murmurs sincerely and your chest burns.

He joins your lips again and you kiss so romantic, soft and polite. Without rushing taking your time because today nothing runs you, it's just him and you.

He admires you, you admire him. Your bodies yearn for each other, you are joined for life. The way he touches you, feels you, looks at you. He makes you feel special by his side, he always has. Pedri is the love of your life. And meeting again made you realize that you are meant for each other.

[a1ecmcdowell]

alec mcdowell & transgenic!user - a million kisses ㅤ ┊ ㅤ (18+!)

i want someone to promise me a million kisses and more . . . or, he's your first everything; first, and second, and fifth, and tenth.

includes, MDNI. ㅤ explicit sexual content ㅤ (light ) breeding kink ㅤ unprotected p in v ㅤ first times! ㅤ fluffy smut ㅤ like genuinely sickly sweet ㅤ soft dom!alec ㅤ best friend!reader ㅤ dirty talk ㅤ talks you through it creampie (hate this word sm sorrY)

req by @foxylady493 hehe thank u for giving me an excuse to write ab rawdoggin alec mcdowell HAHA

word count: 6.2k and for what like genuinely.

★ ˚⋆

somewhere, in one of the books that joshua had stolen for you, with a well worn cover and soft pages, with faded ink painting the front cardstock, you'd read something that stuck with you. i want someone to promise me a million kisses.

it was one of those passing thoughts that embeds itself into your psyche, a physical thing lodged between the folds of your brain, making itself evident every time you tried to forget it. a million kisses... and you'd never had one.

hell, you'd never even wanted to. you were everything manticore wanted you to be; loyal to the greatest extent, dedicated to your training, dominating the rest of the x5 series by a long shot — well, alongside your best friend alec.

alec, who really kept you motivated and on your toes, because he was so effortlessly good. he could sprint the entire forest on the grounds' base three times while you'd be on your second. he could pick you up with ease, and often did, urging you to work on your strength that little bit more so that you could do the same to him.

he was lifting you with one arm, actually, when you'd both been called back to your cells abruptly. it was awkward, in a way, moreso than it would have been for any normal human being, because of how unfamiliar you were with awkward situations. having to be sat down so you could properly address the guard in front of you, the same one who'd just been watching the both of you try and lift each other like barbells?

it only managed to get worse, somehow, when you were both ushered into your cell, followed by one of the directors, a woman with short blonde hair and a fierce stare.

something about this felt like a punishment, or a bad omen. how could you know, then, what a turning point this was going to be for you? the both of you?

"stand down, 494, 490." her lips are quirked with knowledge she isn't sharing, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "no need for formalities. not... for this."

you know better than to say a word out of turn, and so does alec, but you feel his confusion radiating off of him, a mirror image of your own, in the way his shoulders tense back.

her lips curl higher, a tight lipped smile that looks almost sinister in the dull lighting of your cell. "you are both aware of the situation with our labs, i imagine," she continues, slowly, like she's waiting for one of you to piece it together. "all of our genetic data, up in flames, and no way to continue creating soldiers to uphold the legacy the two of you are sure to bring."

directors do not ever come in with compliments, especially so strong, without something up their sleeves. "unless..."

it's one word, but it hits you and alec like a wave. him first, as he draws in a sharp breath, and then you, your stoic expression faltering at once. unless they use their current x5s to make those soldiers.

"it's only natural to pair you two off, what with how... close, you've gotten, over these years." there was a shared trauma that rooted the two of you to each other. him, being a clone of x5-493, and you, of 491.

something was off in their coding, a mixture of genetics and dna that didn't mesh. people were tightlipped about 493 and the seemingly endless amount of death he left in his wake, but they were sure to remind you about 491, the only one who, seemingly, kept his head screwed on straight the rare times that it was.

i want someone to promise me a million kisses... did she feel the same way? did he manage a million before his life was taken? you couldn't help but wonder it, especially with how many times the words killer kisser were thrown in your face. maybe that was why you were so attached to the idea of being kissed. you were stuck on the outside of a secret, wondering how kisses could render a troubled man's mind silent for a little while.

you had zoned out without realizing, stuck in a past that didn't belong to you. "are we clear?" the woman asks, her eyes lingering particularly long on you.

your face flushes with shame. shame for not listening, for missing the entire purpose of this conversation because you'd been daydreaming about an obscene amount of kisses for one person to receive.

alec speaks up for you, saving you from a potential reprimand or punishment, as he often did. "all clear."

"good." her eyes stay on yours for a beat too long, like she's daring you to break, before she nods once. "you've got one hour."

and with that, she stalks out of the room, the guards waiting on either side of your open door stepping out of line to trail behind her. the door hisses shut, and then it's just you and alec. you should know why. if you'd listened—

"you could have been less obvious, you know," alec says with a scoff of laughter, as he breaks his straight-backed stance and crosses to your bed in the corner. he sinks down on it, strong enough that his weight bounces on the springy mattress, legs spread open as he made himself right at home.

you blink once, twice. "less obvious with what?"

"oh, i don't know," his lips twist in mock thought, before they tilt into a dazzling smile, "starin' off like you don't even know where you are."

"i was just—"

"not listening. yeah, established, nelly." alec's eyebrows raise in his amusement, strong arms folded nearly over his chest. "you're gonna be confused as hell when i start taking my clothes off, then."

you splutter, wordless sounds falling out in a flustered heap. "what?"

his head falls back in a fit of laughter, loud enough that it echoes off of the walls. "god, you really weren't listening!"

"just spit it out! what are you talking about?"

slowly, the smile tapers away, his laughter trails off, and you're just looking at each other. "gonna have to copulate, you and i."

your expression drops. any trace of amusement dissipates, a cold, icy feeling of dread flooding your veins. no. no. you couldn't. not with him. not when it would ruin—

a million kisses, a million kisses, a million kisses.

it always came back to that, didn't it? "no," you say aloud firmly, like your rejection can somehow reverse the fact that it has to happen. has to, because you would never betray a direct order. this was something being entrusted to you. "alec..."

"relax," he says, his hands up in surrender. "i'm not gonna just... force you to, nelly, c'mon." his hands fall into his lap again, a sigh leaving his mouth. "s'not easy for me either, this. i mean, you're my best friend."

was he suggesting that things would change once this started? that thought made your blood feel cold in your veins, ice crystallizing in the sinew, making your bones feel heavy and stiff.

"nelly." alec snaps his fingers, drawing your attention back to him and not the dread in your stomach. it always works, when he calls you the name he'd not-so-affectionately given you during training, once. negative nelly & smart alec. "c'mon, it's not— it's not gonna be that bad. kinda bruisin' my ego that you're this torn up about it."

you choke on a laugh, your fingers lifting to run through your hair. "shut up, alec."

"'shut up, alec,'" he mimics back at you, one corner of his mouth lifting higher in a softer grin. "has that ever worked, nell?"

you shake your head, in exasperation and answer, finally crossing the small expanse of the room to drop down onto the edge of your bed next to him. his thigh is pressed up against yours, a warm, familiar comfort when everything feels uncertain.

it's loaded now, this silence that falls between you. heavy like a weight and thick like fog. his eyes are on you —you can feel them, too— and it's jarring, how one direct order can flip an entire world on its axis.

you turn to meet those green eyes of his, and then alec's leaning in, suddenly, and it takes a blink for you to realize it. you startle, feeling hot and icy and flustered all at once. "i’ve never done this,” you blurt out, and how fucking embarrassing is that, confessing it like a sin? 

“in what world do you think i have?” alec shoots back, his eyebrows raising in punctuation to the question. “i’d rather it be with you than someone else.” 

your heart is racing uncomfortably quick, an unfamiliar flutter against your ribcage. “okay.” 

“yeah?” he asks, and his large hand lifts, too, to rest his warm palm on the side of your cheek. his fingertips graze behind your ear, tangling in your soft hair. “yeah, okay, nelly.” 

his thumb grazes gently over your cheekbone, like a final reassurance before you’re no longer dipping your toes into this idea but diving fully into its depths. his fingers on the back of your neck guide you toward him, until your breaths are mingling and getting to know each other. 

your lips meet. the world stops.

it makes sense, now, how 491 could leash 493 with nothing but the press of her lips. it also makes sense why she stayed, despite all of the warning signs he must have given off, if alec’s lips were any indicator of how ben’s were. 

the kiss is tentative at best, at first. he’s not coming any closer, and you’re sat ramrod straight on the bouncy mattress, and the only thing connecting you besides your mouths is the hand he keeps on your cheek. you imagine that this is how first kisses always feel; awkward and uncertain, as this new kind of trust builds itself from the ground up.

one kiss out of a million. how were you supposed to kiss anyone else, now, when this one felt so special?

he pulls back first, but his hand stays on your face, the other sneaking its way across the space between you and landing on yours in lap. 

“not so bad, was it?” alec asks, a reassuring smile gracing his face. his thumb returns the gentle strokes over your cheek, his eyes sweeping over the expression you wear. 

no, it wasn’t that bad. but your mind isn’t on the kiss but what’s supposed to come next. “how long are we supposed to… um…” 

you’d never been the shy type around alec, but suddenly now, it feels like every word is lodged tightly in your throat. suddenly, he feels like a stranger instead of your best friend, this territory unfamiliar and scary, in its own way. 

“until you’re pregnant,” he says easily — and of course it’s easy for him, he’s not the one that has to carry a genetically enhanced baby to term. “but—” 

“no,” you say, raising a hand to cut him off. “no, i heard you.” 

“but, we don’t have to start now, nelly,” he slows his words down, like delivering the blow more gently will somehow lessen the sting. “we don’t. it’s… it’s an order, yes, but you’re still my best friend, and i want you comfortable.”

that did reassure you. you’d have to commit to the orders given eventually, but for now? this was just… a prolonged break in the courtyard, where you could hang out without precaution. 

“kinda like this new development, though,” he adds, that wicked grin of his tugging up onto his mouth, as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. you barely manage to squeak out the noise of surprise caught in your throat, before you’re settled in his lap. alec’s always been strong, but it’s so different, having him use that strength with you. “could get used to it.” 

“shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly.

 he grasps the collar of his shirt to drag you in. “order received.” and his mouth closes around yours once again; your second kiss of a million. 

★ ˚⋆

“stop it, that’s not—” you huff out a hard, frustrated breath, your fingers closing around alec’s wrist. “that’s not what where your hands are supposed to go.” 

alec had you sat comfortably in his lap again, after the day prior, you both learned that, despite the circumstances, it was a nice place to be. you were close enough that you could smack him if you had to, and clearly, you did. 

“s’not my fault that you’re being a tease,” he grumbles in your ear, his lips so close to the sensitive skin that shivers trail down your spine. “sittin’ all pretty in my lap, not letting me follow orders.” 

“oh, bite me,” you shoot back at him, your grip on alec’s wrist tightening as you yank it away from your ass. you can feel the heat of his skin even through the thick fabric of your camo cargos, and it’s completely distracting. 

his free hand’s finger comes up to jab you firmly in the sternum. “you won’t let me.” 

“i thought this was hard for you, too,” you argue, reaching up to grab his other hand now, the former still tightly in between your fingers. you knew the second you let it go, he’d not-so-subtly slide it right back down to your ass all over again, and where would you be? a rock — you — a hard place. 

alec snatches his hand back quickly before you can grab that one, his eyebrows bouncing once in his amusement. “trust me, nelly, it’s very hard.” 

you stare at him, unblinking for a long few seconds, before it clicks in your mind — and the feel of what was very hard presses against the core of you. your hand releases his, and you smack him once with the left, twice with the right. “alec!” 

alec cackles, head falling back with his laughter. his hand, always so much quicker than you, catches one wrist, and then the other, in his lithe fingers. his other arm snakes around your waist and there’s a blink before you’re suddenly flipped on your back.

on your back, and he’s hovered above you, your pinned wrist firmly above your head and pressed lightly into the mattress. “you’re getting soft on me,” he pants, settled in between your legs, knees nudging them further apart. “you used to beat my ass when we’d spar.” 

“you’re playing dirty.” 

“am not,” he huffs out like a petulant child, “you’re just not playing. too worried up in that head about all of the logistics here.” 

“aren’t you?” you ask him, and it’s genuine; how had 24 hours passed, and suddenly this was something he could just accept? you and him, engaging in things that best friends didn’t do. did they? “aren’t you afraid of…” your face reddens, your turn now to feel like a little kid. “doing it?” 

alec’s shoulders lift. “not when it’s with you.” 

he says it so genuinely that you know it’s true, the confidence of the words enough to take your breath away. 

you’d never thought of it like that. sure, it’s intimidating, breaching this gap of things you’d done and things you hadn’t, but… with him, surely it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as you were thinking. 

“plus,” he adds as an afterthought, “we already agreed it wasn’t going to change a thing, didn’t we? s’just work.” 

just work. it didn’t feel like just work, but you were always reading too much into things, anyways. that’s why you and alec just worked. he was the laidback to your on edge.

you sigh. he’s getting to you. he’s unnaturally good at reading all of your fears written in your eyes and unpacking each of them, explaining them to you so they weren’t so scary anymore. “just tell me what to do. we can lie to the directors again, if we have to, if you just wanna… i dunno, chill out. could kiss again.” 

“alec.” 

“suggestion!” he raises his free hand in defense, before he lets it drop down to your thigh. “just a suggestion.” 

it was a good suggestion, too. unfortunately for you, fortunately for him. you didn’t want to get too comfortable in these uncharted territories, out of fear it’d all get muddled and then where would you be? too uncomfortable to be friends, too familiar not to be. 

“kiss me.” your mouth moves before you’ve even realized the words are out, floating between the two of you like a declaration.

he moves his hand from your wrists and lets it fall in the open expanse of your neck. his fingers are cold this time, even though your blood is hot. “yeah?” it feels achingly familiar to the gentle way he’d said it the day prior. “alright.” 

“alright.” 

is it supposed to be this awkward? firsts were always awkward. this had to be normal. if you started to think about how maybe it wasn’t normal, and you were embarrassing yourself, and he was embarrassing himself, and everything was about to be ruined, you’d—

alec leans in again, but he doesn’t kiss you on the lips, like you expected. instead, his mouth finds your jaw, teeth grazing the skin lightly, lips pressing reverently on the bone as he sucks the little mouthful of skin between them. 

you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, eyelashes as soft as butterfly wings on your cheekbone. “relax,” he breathes, hot breath on hot skin making you squirm beneath him, “i know what i’m doin’.” 

“oh, do you?” you smile, a bit dazed as his tongue traces along the line of your jaw until he reaches the space beneath your ear.

“mhm.” he leaves a trail of wet, warm kisses down the side of your neck, then back up your throat. “thought about this all night. know what i’m doin’.” 

oh. no wonder he’d been pretty accepting of their circumstances. alec spent all of night prior thinking about you, and how he’d pick you apart. 

the thought makes another shiver run down your spine, a warm pool in your lower stomach. “alec—” 

“here,” he interrupts, halting your train of thought before it delves again. “put your hand here,” he pants softly into your sensitive skin, his fingers finding yours and guiding them underneath the gray fabric of his shirt. you feel every muscle on his abdomen, feel each flex beneath the cold touch of your fingers. “yeah, that’s it.” 

alec straightens up a little so that he can curl his own hands beneath his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. it falls in a heap at his feet, and he’s on you again a second later, his lips marking a wet trail of kisses up your throat. once he reaches your chin, he continues the onslaught, capturing your lips in a firm kiss. 

this one is different than the one the night prior. it’s more confident, sure of himself. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and in your surprised gasp, he tucks it between your lips. that part of the kiss is tentative, like enacting the things he’d thought about was more nerve wracking than he’d let on.

you smile. he drags his teeth across your puffed bottom lip. “oh, you like that?” he asks against the soft skin of your mouth, arrogance coating every one of his words. “mm, okay.” 

his hands run down your sides, hooking beneath your shirt and bunching it up in his fists. “this okay?” he asks, lifting his head enough to search your eyes.

you nod, taken aback, almost, by the flood of black overtaking his irises. “it’s okay.” 

his grin is mesmerizing. had he always been so attractive? had he always looked like something sculpted and molded, just for you, and you’d only just noticed? “okay,” he echoes, and he nudges your extended arm with his elbow, “lift your arms for me.” 

neither of you really know what you’re doing, but he has a little bit of an upperhand, what with the fantasies he’d created in his head. 

“what all did you think about?” you ask him, tracing your eyes over his face to keep from thinking about how he was undressing you, and you were slowly being beared to him fully.

alec’s eyebrows twitch, his eyes lifting from your bare skin up to yours again. “last night?” 

“yeah. i wanna know.” 

he shakes his head. “no, nelly,” he laughs under his breath, his heavy-lidded eyes raking over your body again. “m’not lettin’ you know. you’re shakin’ in your boots already.” 

“well, then what did you do? just lay in bed, thinkin’ about me?” you shoot back, your mouth dropping into a pout at the denial. 

alec’s lips quirk. “something like that.” 

“alec—” you’re cut off by his lips pressing to yours again. his fingers run reverently down your chest, his touch shuddery as they graze over your breasts. he groans, and the air in your lungs stutters hard in your chest. every thought is shattering to pieces before you can think them, focused instead on the feel of his hands on you in places that you didn’t think anyone would ever touch.

“i know you’re scared,” he mumbles in your mouth, his hand drifting lower, slowly but steadier than before. “so i want you in control. in case—” his touch comes to a stop at the buttons on your camo cargos. alec pauses like he’s dazed, clearing his throat. “in case you want to stop. at any point.” 

he’s such an arrogant dickhead most of the time, one that you’ve come to adore in every possible way, but here? now? he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met. 

“here, lift your hips for me,” his nimble fingers have already undone the button, before you’d even blinked, “good girl — see? m’so proud of you, baby.” 

baby. he’d never called you baby before. your smile is immediate, even as you feel like you’re being electrocuted with how your skin is buzzing. his knuckles light a fire down you as they brush lightly against your thighs, your calves. 

your hand lifts to rest under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you again. how many kisses is this now? you can’t even think, now, not as you drag him in for another kiss. five? six? not enough, is the simple answer.

alec entertains the kiss for a few seconds before he’s pulling back, even taking a step away. your body chills at the loss of his heat, and the self awareness of how you must look to him. mostly naked, sprawled backwards on your bed, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. you open your mouth to say something snarky to him, anything to quell the heavy silence, when he whispers, “you’re so damn beautiful, nelly.” 

he undoes the buttons on his pants quickly, shoving them down his muscular thighs and pooling at his ankles. it’s intimidating, staring into the eyes of someone who was your best friend through and through, while neither of you are wearing anything besides undergarments. 

this was the guy who’d talked you out of making any rash decisions after you’d had the insult of killer kisser thrown in your face, all because of the girl your dna was cloned from. who squeezed your hands and told you to fuckin’ ignore them. what do they know? who’d been a cell apart from you in your psyops isolation, making sure he wasn’t infected with whatever rotted ben’s mind into darkness, and you weren’t susceptible to falling into hi

alec steps around you to sink onto the mattress beside you, shifting backwards until his back hits the concrete wall, turning so that he’s facing straight forward. his hands pat his thighs, nodding his head in gesture — or maybe to get you to stop ogling him like he was someone new and not your alec.

“lookin’ at me like you don’t know me,” he mumbles, reaching out to snatch your elbow when you don’t move. it’s intimidating. sitting in his lap with so little separating the two of you? of course you were hesitating! “don’t be ridiculous. m’still the guy you pushed down the stairs five years ago.” 

“that,” you exhale shakily, as you sit down on his thighs, desperately trying to ignore the heat beneath you, and the heat between your legs, “was an accident.”

“bull.” he moves his hands to the clasps of your bra, undoing each hook individually, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “i saw how you looked at me before you did it.” 

you bristle, shoving him back by the shoulder until his back presses against the cool concrete. “like i’m looking at you now?” 

slowly, he tugs the straps of your bra down your arms, his grin faltering as his eyes drift downward at the same time. “yeah.” he clears his throat. clears it again. “yeah, like you’re lookin’ at me now.” 

your eyes follow his, and you suck in a slow, deep breath. somehow, the fucker had talked his way into taking your bra off without you even noticing. kept you distracted long enough to not fuss over it. 

how many kisses out of a million could one man give? you hoped all of them. you hoped more than a million. 

the silence is heavy but it’s less awkward now. most of the hard parts were over, and you’d already established there was no reason to be nervous, not with alec. never with alec.

“here,” he says, his voice still coming out rasped even through his attempts otherwise to quell it. “hips up again f’me… yeah, just like that.” alec’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down until they’re caught where you’re straddling him. “left leg up… perfect, baby, right one… perfect, baby. absolutely perfect.” 

the praise makes you feel hot. sure, he’d said things like this before, praising each of your actions when you’d done good at training, or came back from a mission successful. this is different. intimate. 

"keep 'em up real quick, alright?" he murmurs, shifting beneath you enough to lift his own hips up, hands pulling down his boxers over his thighs. his hand slips, giving way to the nervousness he had buried deep, as it slaps against your bare thigh. "my bad," he chuckles lowly, kicking them off with the foot closest to the bed's edge. his fingers curl around your leg, kneading at the soft flesh. "you've got me all messed up in my head."

"enough to hit me?" you tease, your smile returning again to your lips. "that's cruel, alec. you said you weren't playing dirty."

"m'not," alec insists, his thumb catching your chin and dragging you down into a kiss, and then another.

you laugh on his lips, trying to shake free from his grip. "are too."

he sits up, chasing your mouth when you start to pull away, swallowing your lips in an onslaught of kisses. "i can show you 'playing dirty'." his hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing your ass as they firmly grasp your thighs, flipping the both of you so that your back is against the mattress.

you're strong enough to flip him back. to tackle him onto the mattress, to wrestle like you used to do when you were younger, and things were easier. you don't.

alec settles between your legs, using his hold on your thighs to lift your hips and align your entrance with the cock you have not looked at, nope, it feels too real to—

your eyes fall anyways when his do, watching him line himself up. all of his nervousness is gone again, like he teeters between it, only ever seeming to get nervous when it comes to addressing you. what you are. what this means. 

“still okay?” at your nod, he nods too. “okay, sweet girl. let me just—” his hand comes between the both of you, grasping his cock between his fingers, as he pushes the thick head of it inside of you, his head falling back as your wetness coats it. “jeeeesus.” 

“what?” you ask breathlessly, shifting to rest on your palms, glancing from his face to where he’s pulling out of you.

alec shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “nothing. nothing at all.” he pushes in again, slowly, deliberately, this time keeping his cock inside of your tight walls. “just thinking about you. always thinking about you.” his free hand goes to your shoulder, pushing you lightly back on the bed. “you just lay back and relax, alright? get out of that head.” 

how were you supposed to get out of your head when now, the thing circling around in it is how he so casually declared that he was always—

it’s uncomfortable, as he fills you up. like something is wrong, doesn’t belong. you were definitely wet enough to take him, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of something being off that tingles up your spine. 

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he groans, his voice as rough as gravel. alec rubs soothing circles into your skin with his thumb, before he lets his hand fall down to one of yours, grasping it in his. “squeeze if you wanna stop.” 

even through the discomfort, you didn’t want to stop. not only had the gap already been bridged, but… you liked it. liked him. more than you ever would have realized on your own. the further he pushes into you, still in that achingly slow pace as he lets your pussy adjust to the feel of him inside of it, the easier that adjustment gets. 

your fingers play with his, tracing over his knuckles, as your breaths tumble out in soft little pants. everything feels like its at a boiling point, like it’s seconds from spilling over. 

“you asked why i wasn’t scared,” he says under his breath suddenly, eyes lifting to meet yours through the deep dark of his eyelashes, once he’s to the hilt deep inside of you, his pelvis pressed to yours in a sharing of blistering hot skin. “do you want to know why?” 

he finishes the sentence, and slowly pulls back until his cock rests halfway inside of your throbbing pussy. the movement makes you whimper in your throat, the sound of it rough already. his fingers clamp around yours in reassurance. “i’ve thought about this a lot. that’s why.” 

“liar,” you manage to rasp, a breathless moan of laughter punctuating the words, “y’don’t have to make me feel better anymore. i’m not scared.” 

“i always,” alec thrusts into you again, quicker this time, already pulling back out, keeping that slow, leisurely pace until he’s absolutely certain you’re alright with the next part of it all, “always want to make you feel better.” 

another thrust in, and something shifts this time. you can feel every inch, and suddenly, a tremor of ecstasy replaces the full discomfort. you gasp, and he surges forward to hover over you properly now, like that one little noise was enough reassurance for him. 

“always want to take care of you, always want to make sure you’re happy,” alec continues, soft grunts slipping between his ramblings, “hell, i’ve thought about putting a baby in you before. just not… in this setting.” 

the words shoot straight downwards, making your already aching pussy throb, clenching tightly around him. “i’m not gonna break, alec,” you say, forehead pressed to his. you dig your nails into the back of his hand, not squeezing it so he doesn’t stop, but urging him further. “stop acting like you’re gonna snap me in half. i’ve pushed you down the stairs before.” 

alec laughs, but it works. he pulls out further with each thrust, slams into you harder, burying himself deeply inside of your wet pussy. “yeah, you have.” the sound of skin slapping together starts to echo around the room with the change in his pace, interrupted only by his throaty groans and your soft moans and, god, isn’t it awkward that there are guards outside? that this is what they’re subjected to hear every day, until you’re—

“you wanted— a baby with me,” you say, not as a question, and through the deep haze your mind is slipping into. 

“wanted to do this. wanted to fuck a baby into you. see you full of me,” he answers, and it must get him going, the image he paints for the both of you, because he speeds up further, drives deeper, and you can feel the head of his cock pushing against your cervix, making you groan aloud into his skin. “only at night, when it was just me, and i wished you were there, keeping me company. any time else, i could pretend like it was fine.” 

you laugh softly, shaking your head, and then he’s laughing too. “fucked up, schoolboy-manticore crush, huh?” his head falls further into the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “only this place could get me daydreaming about filling this pussy up with my cum. could get me - wanting to fuck up our whole friendship, just to hear those pretty sounds of yours.” 

your face flushes at the filthy words, even as it only stirs your arousal further along. you can feel it in the base of your spine, and suddenly, by their own volition, your hips are pressing against his in tandem, meeting each of his thrusts inside of you. he groans, the sound hot and vibrating on the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“look at me, will ya, pretty thing?” he asks, nose nudging your chin up to meet his eyes. blackened pupils swallow up the jade green of his eyes. your lips part as the pleasure builds and builds, each of your noises crescendoing in pace with alec’s relentless thrusts. “god, nelly—” 

you tip your head up a little more, enough to catch his mouth in a warm kiss. “it’s okay,” you say against the soft pink of his lips; your turn to comfort him, even if that’s the last thing he probably needs. 

“yeah,” he mumbles on your mouth, stealing a fervent amount of quick kisses. it might as well be a million right then, with the way you can’t clear your head enough to count.”s’all okay. more than okay. always okay with you.” 

“you don’t even know—” you choke out, interrupted by the desperate moans falling from your lips, free hand coming to hold onto his side and keep him deep, deep, deep. “don’t even know what you’re saying,” you manage to laugh.

“no,” alec laughs too, letting go of your hand and moving it and his other one to hold onto your thighs again. “no i don’t. lift this one up for me, yeah?” 

you uncurl your bent knee and rest it across the length of his body, and the new angle only makes it that much more intense. “m’not gonna last much longer.” 

alec is a nervous laugher. he can’t seem to stop while he thrusts into you. your defense mechanism is panic, his is undiluted joy. you hope it never changes about him. “thank fuck.” he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your ankle. “‘ve been hanging on by a fuckin’ thread.” 

“seriously?” you cackle. “alec.” 

it’s sweet, really, how even when your entire dynamic flipped on its head, neither of you changed. just like you’d promised. you’re still laughing in the heat of the moment together, still teasing each other in every possible way you could. “told you ‘ve been thinkin’ about this,” he grumbles in his defense, the little pout on his flushed face only pulling you closer and closer into your release’s tight grips, “can’t even blame m—” 

“oh, fuck—” you can’t blame him, because you never gave him the time to pitch his argument fully, cutting him off. each breath you draw in is strained, in time with the pounding he’s giving to your clenching pussy. “oh, fuck, alec—” 

“hey, language, pretty thing, there’s—” one last thrust, harder than the others, his hips stuttering their movements as he pushes out a shaky exhale into your shoulder. your head falls back into the mattress, dug into the springs as you buck into him, his cock against your cervix as he spills his cum inside of you. the feel of him twitching inside of you, of the warmth seeping from your fluttering walls and warm down your spread legs, reducing you to a muddled mess of pleasure in his arms. unintelligible words on your tongue, pleads or his name or something, you don’t even know, don’t even know what you were trying to say. 

alec brushes his fingers across your forehead, pushing the sweaty hairs off of your skin. “was gonna tell you to watch your mouth, but i’m pretty sure you just swore me up and down in three different languages at once.” 

your limbs feel boneless, but you do manage to swat at his bare chest, heated skin on heated skin. “shut up.” 

“nah.” he scoops you into his arms, not yet having pulled out of you, as he cradles you to his chest. “we’re just gettin’ started, aren’t we?”

the answer is that one man can give a million kisses, and it doesn't take a lifetime — just a director's order and a dream.

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ostaramoon @angelblqde @depressionbarbie2023

@poughkeepsie99 @chi-raz @beausling @artyandink @figthoughts

[sunflowerdigs]

I find it kind of funny that they're coming at the "bestie boos" for holding out for Buddie for this long. Because while, sure, I would loved to have had Buddie back in s5 because that was the original plan, I'm not upset about having more moments dedicated to their wonderful friendship before their romantic relationship starts. Like, oh no, we have Buck In The Room taking care of Eddie and Chris when everything falls apart, Buck and Eddie getting hit by the same bolt of lightning and Eddie remembering exactly how long Buck's heart was stopped for, Eddie reassuring Buck that his being bisexual isn't weird and doesn't change anything, multiple scenes where they're framed as a married couple, etc, et. How terrible, how awful! How will we cope with so much build up and reassurance that Buck and Eddie are the most importantly people in each other's lives?!

The thing is, even if they weren't going canon (which I'm pretty positive they are) we still have this beautiful story that has unfolded over 7 years of two men who stepped into each other's messes and never stepped out. Like, sure, give me 10 more episodes of absolute dedication to each other no matter what happens. I'll take that!

[arrowfleur]

✩‧₊˚ Redacted HC’s ✩‧

I’ve been pretty shit at writing and posting this past year, which is crappy because I enjoy it so I wanted to do something that was less pressure than writing fics but could still make people happy. I’ve put every main redacted couple - plus a few extras - on a spin wheel and will be writing a long list of HC’s each day depending on who I get :)

Anyways, Part 1: Lasko and Dear

Dear loves thrifting but they didn’t want to take Lasko with them at first in case he found something they wanted, before they did. Now they borrow each others clothes so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

When they eventually took him he spent the entire time trying to find things they liked.

Dear has two toned hair

Lasko has never stopped thinking that dear is the coolest person to ever walk the earth, ever.

Sometimes dear wears colour contacts for fun

Both of them have a pocket watch on a chain

For their first anniversary Dear bought Lasko a locket, with a picture of the entire Damn Squad in it.

He added a photo of them to the other side

Dear has pet rats, they take such good care of them and their cage is huge

Lasko was slightly weary at first but he warmed up to them pretty well

Dear is very good at fixing things.

One of the first times they went to his apartment, his Ac broke. Dear just calmly listened to his apologetic rant about it before asking where the toolbox was.

Dear has tattoos behind their ears

Lasko is very good at saving but he’s not tight and always tries to pay for the whole table.

Very rarely has he succeeded

Dear has a collection of paper boy hats.

Lasko wears earmuffs when it’s cold because he always gets earaches

Dear has curled their hair with coke cans before

They love old black and white movies

Lasko likes really crappy b-movies

Can’t be let down if you know it’s going to be bad before it starts

Dear can keep up very well with Damien’s academic discussions and sometimes debates him just for the sake of it. Damien enjoys the challenge.

Dear is not the biggest Christmas enjoyer but this year they’re looking forward to it.

Lasko has booked a couple of Christmas markets for them

Dear HATES the idea of a cruise. Not because of the ocean but because they can’t get off the boat once it sets off.

Lasko always takes those little pots of jam and the little shampoo/conditioner bottles whenever he goes to a hotel

Neither of them can ice skate well whatsoever

Lasko has and will continue to use those little penguins meant for children. Dear finds it fucking hilarious all while they’re clinging to the side of the rink themselves

They share grandpa jumpers

When they first started dating, dear would pretend to forget their lanyard so that lasko would have to go down and let them in.

They both wear lots of rings and love playing with each others hands

Lasko used to wear those fake glasses from Claire’s

Dear is so casually flirty with Lasko that he thought it was just their personality at first

That’s why they eventually just had to go into his office and straight up ask him out

Dear kisses Lasko’s nose often, especially when they’re saying goodbye to each other or he’s severely overthinking

Dear really enjoys those mugs that change colour when you put hot water in them

Lasko has an entire cupboard dedicated to board games

Dear was delighted

Dear reads random niche comics and webtoons

And they have a lot of figurines

Lasko is an unsweetened oat milk enjoyer!!

Dear inhales food like it’s nobody’s business

It doesn’t last five minutes on their plate

They also never get indigestion

Their go-to cocktail is an old fashioned

Lasko hates it

Dear will simply repeat what Lasko says in a teasing tone to fluster him

Or they’ll just randomly start acting like the weirdest story is sexy.

‘And then he, he told me they’d have to charge me more for these stupid tires that I didn’t even ask for!’

‘ and what did you say? 😏

‘Well I- I told him,

‘ did you stick up for yourself? 😏😏

‘ well I told him I wasn’t going to pay for it’

*dear looking him up and down’

‘Good job, I don’t like it when other play dirty with you’

And they’re making out, Lasko doesn’t know how they do it they just have a way. It literally doesn’t even make sense.

Lasko’s hair grows incredibly quick. He shaves ALOT.

His skins is also so beautiful, it’s so soft and clear and glowy.

Dear has acne scars and they do little skincare nights together but Lasko thinks they’re HOT AS FUCK

Okay that’s all, also my proof that I got these guys first

[jackethockey]

No shame

Summary: You are a sports reporter for the NHL when one day you have to report for the New Jersey Devils. You get told you would be interviewing the star of the show, Jack Hughes. You decide to go to a bar after the game where Jack and some of the team also go. While there, you notice Jack came up to you to ask your opinions on the game. You can't help but find the two of you wrapped up in a conversation about hockey. He offers one day to go out for dinner to talk more about hockey. When the night grows on, he invites you back to his place to keep it going. Once there he can't help but just stare at you with lust in his eyes. This leads to a night you will never forget.

Warnings: smut, sex, cursing, begging

Word count: 3241

“Got no shame, I love the way you're screaming my name.”

The atmosphere in the Prudential Center buzzed with excitement as the New Jersey Devils took the ice for their warm-ups, the smooth strokes of their skates carving circles on the gleaming surface. As a dedicated sports reporter for the NHL, you had been handed the enviable task of conducting an interview with the young superstar, Jack Hughes. Your heart raced as you put on your headset and took your position rink side. The lights grew brighter, and the music grew louder, setting the stage for your encounter.

Jack glided over effortlessly, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he leaned in for the microphone. The electricity between you both was palpable, even through the protective barrier of his helmet. You exchanged pleasantries before diving into the meat of the interview, discussing strategy, team dynamics, and his personal aspirations for the season. His voice was confident, yet had a hint of charm that was impossible to ignore.

As you wrapped up, Jack gave you a smile that seemed to light up the entire arena. And then, with a playful wink, he pushed off and returned to his teammates. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. The interview had gone better than expected, but it was his casual, yet knowing, gesture that lingered in your mind.

After the exhilarating game ended in a victory for the Devils, you decided to unwind at a nearby sports bar. The place was packed with fans, still basking in the glow of the win. To your surprise, Jack Hughes and some of his teammates sailed through the door, the sound of their laughter and camaraderie piercing the din. You kept your distance, not wanting to intrude on their celebrations. But fate had other plans.

Jack spotted you from across the room, and with a beer in hand, he navigated through the throng of bodies. He approached with the same confidence he had on the ice, and suddenly, he was standing right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Hey," he said, his voice a warm contrast to the chilly evening outside. "Great game tonight. What'd you think?"

The question caught you off guard. Here was this NHL phenom, asking for your opinion on the very game he had just dominated. You took a sip of your drink, trying to compose yourself, and shared your thoughts on the team's performance. His genuine interest in your analysis was disarming. You talked for what felt like hours, the conversation flowing as naturally as a perfectly executed breakaway. It was clear that Jack Hughes was not just a star on the ice; he had a charm that extended far beyond the boards.

The evening grew late, and the bar began to empty. As you said your goodbyes, Jack handed you his phone number with a wink, hinting at the possibility of a future off-the-ice rendezvous. With a racing pulse and a grin that wouldn't quit, you walked home through the quiet Newark streets, the echoes of the game and Jack's inviting smile playing on repeat in your mind. Little did you know, this chance encounter was about to rewrite the script of your life.

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that night at the bar grew stronger with each passing day. You couldn't shake the feeling that Jack's wink and the way he had looked at you during the interview meant something more than just a friendly gesture. As you continued to cover the Devils' games, you found yourself eagerly waiting for any glimpse of him, hoping for a repeat of that electric connection. And then, one evening, as you sat in the press box, you received a text message that made your heart skip a beat:

"Hey, it's Jack. How about that dinner we talked about?"

The anticipation grew as you picked out the perfect outfit and rehearsed conversation topics in your mind. The night of the date finally arrived, and you met him at a cozy Italian restaurant, his eyes lighting up when he saw you walk in. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and the conversation flowed as freely as the wine. He talked about his love for the game, his family back in Michigan, and his hopes for the future. You shared stories from your life as a sports reporter, the thrill of live events, and the people you've met along the way.

As the evening progressed, you realized that Jack was not only a phenomenal athlete but also a thoughtful and kind-hearted person, with a maturity that belied his years. The air was thick with the scent of garlic bread and the promise of something more. With each laugh and shared glance, the walls between interviewer and interviewee began to crumble, revealing the possibility of a relationship that could be as thrilling and unpredictable as a sudden-death overtime.

As you were talking, Jack offered you to go back to his apartment to keep the conversation going. You kindly accept and head off. Jack's apartment was modern and spacious, a reflection of his successful career. You followed him in, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. He led you to a comfortable living room, where a large, plush couch beckoned. As you settled in, removing your coat, the conversation between you flowed as naturally as it had at the bar. However, as the fabric of your coat slipped away, revealing the dress you had meticulously chosen for the evening, Jack's gaze lingered. He swallowed hard, and his eyes remained fixed on you, a silent appreciation of your beauty that made you blush.

You looked up, catching him mid-stare, and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Jack took a deep breath, breaking his trance. "You look... amazing," he said, his voice thick with genuine admiration. "I mean, you know, on the ice, you're all professional and focused, but here, off the clock, you're just... wow."

You couldn't help but laugh at his candidness. "Thank you," you said, feeling the warmth of his compliment. "But, what about the game? Did you think the team played well tonight?"

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, they played great," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The energy in the room shifted, the tension could be cut with a knife. He took a step closer, and you realized that the conversation had evolved into something much more personal.

Without another word, Jack offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the couch. As you sat down, the proximity between you was undeniable. You could feel the heat of his hand in yours, and the thump of his heart seemed to match the rhythm of your own. The air was charged with potential, and you found yourself leaning in, eager to hear more about his life outside the rink.

As the conversation grew deeper, you felt the weight of the evening's events pressing down on you. The attraction was undeniable, and it was clear that Jack felt it too. With every shared smile and every brush of your fingers against his, the pull grew stronger. Yet, you remained professional, keeping the conversation focused on the game and the season ahead.

As the conversation grew more intimate, you found yourselves sitting closer than ever before. Jack's hand reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment too long. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a jolt through your entire body. His eyes searched yours, looking for permission, and you realized that the line between professional and personal had grown blurrier than ever before. You leaned in, and Jack met you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a moment that seemed to defy the very fabric of time, leaving you both breathless. When you pulled back, the world around you had changed. You knew that the dynamics of your relationship had shifted, and there was no turning back. 

The attraction you had both felt from the start had just been given the green light, and the excitement was intoxicating. But with great power comes great responsibility, and you both understood the delicate balance you'd have to maintain between your budding romance and the demands of your respective careers. You sat back, a little dizzy from the rush of emotions, and took a deep breath. "Jack," you whispered, your voice trembling with excitement, "This...this isn't going to affect our work, is it?"

Jack's eyes searched yours, a mix of passion and understanding swirling within. "No," he promised, "it won't. But it's going to make every game a little more interesting, don't you think?" His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but return it. This was the start of something special, something you had never seen coming. But as you sat there, hand in hand, watching the flickering shadows from the street lamps play across the walls of his apartment, you knew that you were ready to face whatever challenges might come your way, both on and off the ice.

Jack's eyes searched yours with a fierce intensity, his thumb still gently caressing your cheek. He took a deep breath before speaking. "You know, I've always been taught to treat women with the utmost respect," he began, his voice low and earnest. "But right now, all I can think about is how badly I want to rip that dress off you and take you right here." His words were raw and unfiltered, a stark contrast to the respectful demeanor he had maintained throughout the evening. The hunger in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent a thrill through you.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his hand slid down to grip your waist. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent promise of the passion he was holding back. You knew that this moment was pivotal, that the line between professional and personal had been crossed, and there was no going back. But as you looked into his eyes, all you saw was honesty and desire. You wanted him just as badly.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you whispered, "Jack, I feel the same way." Your heart was racing, but your voice was steady. You knew the risks of mixing business with pleasure, but the pull was too strong to resist. With a nod of understanding, Jack leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that was as overwhelming as it was exhilarating.

The air grew thick with lust as you both succumbed to the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. Clothes began to fall away, revealing the athletic physiques that had been hidden beneath layers of fabric. The sound of zippers and fabric hitting the floor was a symphony to your ears, each note bringing you closer to the moment you had both been craving.

Jack's hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You gasped into his mouth as he lifted you onto his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist. The feel of his bare skin against yours was electrifying, sending sparks through every nerve ending. His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he was trying to claim you as his own.

You broke away for a moment, panting and breathless. "Jack," you murmured, your eyes locked on his, "I want this. But we need to be careful."

Jack's eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. He nodded, his voice a gruff whisper. "I know," he said, "but right now, I just can't get enough of you."

And with that, you gave in to the passion that had been building between you, allowing Jack to guide you to a place of unbridled pleasure, where the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his body against yours. The world outside the apartment ceased to exist as you both became lost in the heat of the moment, the line between reporter and player, fan and athlete, forever blurred by the intensity of your shared desire.

With a fiery need that had taken over both of you, Jack positioned you so that you were straddling his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist. You could feel the unmistakable pressure of his hard, throbbing cock through the fabric of his pants, and it only served to heighten your own arousal. The wetness between your legs was a testament to the desire that had been simmering since the moment you had first met. The anticipation was exquisite torture, and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to claim him as much as he was claiming you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer, as if he could somehow absorb the heat of your want through the barrier of your clothes. Your breathing grew ragged, and you found yourself rocking slightly against him, desperate to relieve the ache that had taken up residence in your core. 

The feeling of his length pressed against you was maddening, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. The connection between you was more than just physical; it was a magnetic force that neither of you could resist. With a low growl of need, Jack stood up, lifting you with him, and carried you to the bedroom, where you both knew the night was about to reach a crescendo that would change everything.

The bedroom was dimly lit by the glow of the city outside, casting a soft light across the room. Jack laid you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he peeled away the layers of your clothing. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he revealed your naked body to him, his gaze filled with awe and hunger. You felt exposed, but also incredibly powerful, knowing that this man, this hockey god, wanted you just as much as you wanted him. His own clothes followed, revealing his muscular chest and the V-cut abs that had made your knees weak during your first interview.

As he climbed over you, the heat of his body enveloped you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. His cock, now free from the constraints of his pants, stood tall and proud, a testament to his arousal. You reached down to stroke him, feeling the velvety skin and the pulsing vein beneath. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, and he let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine. 

Jack's eyes burned with desire as he positioned himself at your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the moment before he pushed himself into you, his thick, hard cock filling you up inch by inch. You couldn't help but moan out in pleasure, the feeling of him inside you was more than you could handle. He took his time, savoring every moment, his movements deliberate and precise. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your moans echoing through the room. He began to move with more urgency, his hips thrusting into you with a steady rhythm that had you gripping the bedsheets.

Jack was vocal, his grunts and groans of pleasure fueling the fire between you. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His words only served to make you wetter, and you found yourself screaming his name, the sound of it leaving your lips over and over again. The more you screamed, the more he loved it, his thrusts growing harder and faster, each one aimed at pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Just as you felt the first tremors of an orgasm building within you, Jack abruptly stopped, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. He loved the sound of your desperation, the way you begged for him to keep going. It was a power play, one that had you squirming beneath him, your body begging for release. "Beg for it," he ordered, his eyes dark with lust. And so you did, whispering pleas into his ear, begging him to give you what you needed. The anticipation was unbearable, the ache in your core demanding relief.

Finally, Jack relented, his hips moving once more with a renewed fervor. His thrusts were now punishing, each one pushing you closer to the brink. "Jack, please," you begged, your voice hoarse from the screams of pleasure. And with that, he gave in, his movements becoming more intense, his grip on your hips tightening. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a testament to the passion that had taken over.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the pressure building until it was almost too much to handle. And just as you were about to shatter, Jack's eyes locked onto yours, his own climax approaching. "Cum for me," he growled, and with those words, you let go, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. The sight of your release was all it took for him to follow, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he reached his peak, groaning your name in victory.

As the intensity of the moment began to subside, you both lay there, panting and sweaty, the aftershocks of your passion still rippling through your bodies. You couldn't believe what had just happened, but as you looked into Jack's eyes, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. The connection between you had been undeniable from the start, and now it had taken on a whole new dimension, one that was as raw and real as it was unprofessional.

But in that moment, you didn't care about the consequences; all that mattered was the feeling of Jack's arms around you, the sound of his heart beating in sync with yours, and the promise of a future filled with passion and excitement that could only come from mixing love with the fast-paced world of professional hockey.

[rei-ismyname]

Uncanny X-Men #6 From The Ashes

We're starting to see Raid on Graymalkin come together with each team having a member in custody, but first we get to know these kids a little better. Spoilers, naturally.

Yeah they're a mystery to us too.

Calico/Becca has been in pretty serious denial about being a mutant and is easily the least worldly of the four. Context clues told us she grew up wealthy, sheltered, and that her mother did a number on her. It's good to make that explicit but I think something is lost by doing it in third person flashback. This is information she doesn't know and considering what happens next it'd be more effective to have her tell her own story. The flashbacks feel jarring to me too, knocking me out of the present. Her having Ember kick Logan was pretty funny though.

And she's cured! 🙄

Calico has a breakthrough after a minute talking to Gambit, completely accepting her mutanthood. I think this would be the place to hear her speak - just a little back and forth instead of Gambit getting through instantly. She basically drops out of the story at this point, repeating that she's a mutant to anyone who'll listen. Yeah, she's been going on about goblins and her mother the entire time, and she was clearly in denial, but the sudden acceptance feels unearned.

We're not done with Harvey X, it seems. He's died at least once on page and said his powers would move on when he did. Does that mean he's not dead or was he just wrong? The thing with fakeouts is that the more you do it the less readers trust what you tell them. Logan brings up the old guy whose death bed he visited in issue #1 and shares the story behind the Tequila. He asks them to drink it with him and Rogue realises he's heartbroken. This feels unearned too, frankly. We'd never seen this army buddy before and while it's sad, there's so much trauma in all these people's very recent history. Krakoa, The School, Chuck, a genocidal war, Beast, hundreds of thousands of slaughtered mutants. The narrative doesn't really need new trauma when so much is already set up.

It sucks to lose an old friend, but the reader doesn't know the guy at all so it comes out of nowhere. A lot of page space was dedicated to the Sarah Gaunt/Chuck relationship and both aren't present in the story right now. Imagine if that space was spent on, say, Sarah/Logan instead. Very little needs to be changed and being blinded/nearly killed by his now monstrous ex would be a payoff that was setup.

I have complex PTSD myself and I would love to see it handled well in this book, but it's off to a weird start that centres Rogue more than Logan. He's in the middle of sharing his trauma and reaching out when she does this. It's really fucking odd, and I have an uncomfortable feeling it's not meant to be. I'll reserve judgement and see how this plays out.

Is the spit take because of what she said or because she's acting strange? You all have PTSD

Uhhm, what? Is this meant to be Harvey X's influence on Rogue? Her narration seems to suggest that, though she's still using her accent. I don't know, but it feels off. It's great to see the letters PTSD in an X-Men comic, because no shit Logan has PTSD. However, once you pathologise it instead of just referring to trauma, you need to pay that off. I'll believe that when I see it. Also, she just cut him off and told him. Logan says she's not qualified to diagnose that and he's right.

The kids are off to school! I think this is an interesting way to keep the education element of X-Men books separate from the mutant part, and naturally the kids run into bullies straight away. We're shown the other kids listening to Jitter though her confidence is attacked by jerks making fun of her stutter. Ransom has her back but Deathdream is really committed to the bit. This scene shows us what class dynamics are at play too. Showing and not telling might seem like faint praise, but I appreciate it when it's done elegantly. It's something this title has struggled with and I'm happy to see Simone lifting her game with the kids. That said, the bullies are extremely generic. Total cutouts that could be from 1950 or 2024. That's probably intentional but high school drama is a trope that's been beaten to death. If you're going to do it you want to do it well.

More bullying happens and Deathdream seems to take Ransom's words to heart, scaring the bullies with Eldritch horrors. Deathdream really doesn't seem bothered he's about to catch hands, but Ransom rolls his sleeves up and lays them out. I think the Olympics business was overegging the pudding, we can tell from his stance and form that he's trained in boxing. Or maybe this could have come up when they fought the X-Men. Everyone would notice an Olympics hopeful boxer. It could have been in Rogue's narration and wouldn't need to be vocalised as the skill is being used. Chekhov's Skill - it's narratively satisfying.

Unfortunately, while this is going down five heavily armoured dudes corner Calico and tase TF out of her. They call it in to Graymalkin and the Raid is set up. I wonder how they got into the school or knew they were here at all. Cerebro explains the latter. Why are they so obsessed with these kids anyway? Dr Ellis was concerned for their lives 2 issues ago and now she's encouraging brutality. Whatever, big ding for the Uncanny team's record of caring for children.

Kurt and Jubilee head to the store to do shopping and Kurt BAMFs away to save a little girl from being hit by a bus. For once he gets some gratitude, though while he's doing this Jubes is being cornered by Siryn, Blob and maybe Wild Child in full Hound mode. She gets snatched up too and Kurt returns to blood and mess everywhere. He calls Rogue and she tells him to get back quickly. The ending leads straight into 2 issues of Raid on Graymalkin (with 2 over in X-Men) and both teams have their motivation. I'm not looking forward to the contrived conflict but maybe we'll get some answers. We saw Siryn and Blob being tortured in earlier issues, but I'm surprised they're here unsupervised. Perhaps those collars are responsible.

Pound for pound I'd say this is the best issue of Uncanny yet. It had some super odd moments but most of them were relics of the first arc. I do wish we got more time to know all the characters, especially the Outliers, before moving into a mini crossover but this is what we have. Still skippable but seems to be getting better. I'm interested to see how the PTSD thing plays out though my expectations are low. I know that sounds quite negative for what was an improvement, but the first arc left a bad taste in my mouth and trust is earned. Also there's NINE main characters which is really not especially sustainable in a book like this. There's just not enough space, and you end up in situations like heading into an event without a solid grasp of where most of the cast is at.

Don't stand behind a horse, Logan. Lucky you have a healing factor.

[hamletthedane]

I know I’m joking about how Wicked Part 2 is going to be insane compared to Part 1, but it actually is so interesting when viewed as separate second part of the story -

Because hear me out - imo, the end of Act 1 sets up where the lines in the sand are for the three key characters:

Elphaba chooses to follow her morals and reject the system, even to her own isolation and destruction. Her line is her dedication to “making good.”

Glinda, her foil, openly admits that she cannot turn down the allure of the system’s power and stability, even at the sacrifice of her morals and her closest friendship. Her line is her power and popularity.

Fiyero, further foiling Glinda, is the person who would have blindly said yes to Elphaba’s offer. He is completely, unquestioningly devoted to Elphaba - even to a fault - believing that she will always be good and choose the right thing (as she “doesn’t care what others think”).* His line is his unwavering loyalty to Elphaba.

*admittedly, this is less evident at the end of Act 1, but it’s made VERY clear within the first 5min of Act 2 so I’m counting it as an Act 1 arc

But then Act 2 forces them to respect the line they’ve decided to draw in increasingly devastating ways, and eventually forces them to violate their lines or have the lines destroy them:

Elphaba’s sacrifices turn her into a complete pariah, forcing her to lose everything she had and worked for in an instant. She fights every day for what she believes in, even though she sees it’s fruitless and only leading to the destruction of everything she loves. But Elphaba stands strong even against the Wizard’s temptation of leaving behind her failing cause. However, she’s finally pushed over her edge when one of the two people who still believed in her “goodness” dies for that belief. And it drives her to throw away every good intention and dive head-first into a pursuit of power and control. She must ultimately be influenced by Glinda to once again choose self-sacrifice for the greater good, giving up her power and dreams of normality in Oz. “Now it’s up to you, for both of us”

Glinda builds great political capital and becomes one of the most important, beloved characters in the nation. But nothing is real: she’s engaged to a man who clearly doesn’t love her, she’s openly decrying a woman who she clearly still loves herself, and the system she operates in troubles her even as she benefits from it. Elphaba again tempts her to leave, and Fiyero’s clear willingness to jump ship should be an even greater temptation, but she can’t leave it behind. Not until the very end of the story does she finally recreate the Ozdust dance: acting against her own self-interest to save Elphaba and take up the fire of her cause

Fiyero, to his credit, is the only person who cannot be pushed from his line. The very first chance he gets, he follows Elphaba blindly, despite hearing all these terrible things about her. Then he willingly sacrifices himself for her and her cause, and they torture him to (a fate worse than) death for it. And even when Elphaba really does go evil, he still believes that she will ultimately choose good. His loyalty to her is not well rewarded (see: fate worse than death), but he makes his sacrifice willingly. His belief destroyed him.

What I really like about the play’s story is that from all these different starting goals and motivations, every character is forced to give up everything that is dear to them - including their fundamental selves - by the end of the story. Yet, they all three still continue to overlap and influence each other in ways that lead them all to a choice of “making good” in the end. SO excited to see that played out on screen.

[circetaliadraws]

Paladin Danse Post Blind-Betrayal Headcanons

I have a few headcanons for Danse on how his life would be after Blind Betrayal. Before I get into them though, I'd like to say I believe Blind Betrayal would happen during both the Minuteman and Brotherhood of Steel routes. This is told where you are the SoSu, but can be interpreted if the reader were not!

✧ Danse, when being spared, would live in either Red Rocket or Sanctuary. He knows that the Brotherhood wouldn't look for him there or show near there. This is partly because you had suggested it, but also because when you tell him you were from Sanctuary/Vault 111, he mentioned that there was nothing of value for the Brotherhood up there.

✧ No matter where he's staying, he'd be great friends with Sturges. His love for power armor plus Sturges love for tinkering would make for a great duo. Plus, if the Minuteman were the ones who dealt with the Institute, the data that you give to Sturges might contain the details that he himself is also a synth (or the data that the BoS has on Danse being a synth may have Sturges data as well, so Danse sought him out).

✧ He'd run or operate a power armor shop. If he were in Sanctuary, Sturges might also help him. He'd offer to sell parts, fix up people's armor, as well as selling people armor. With his BoS knowledge, he'd be able to make sure that the people have the protection they need for the settlement.

✧ The power armor shop would be located in the garage of Red Rocket, or the garage of your old home in Sanctuary would be worked on to make a make-shift shop.

✧ If he lives in Red Rocket, he'd go back and forth between Red Rocket and Sanctuary to trade and sell parts and salvage. Also to talk and hang out to Sturges. They would talk about the shops, what they're working on, etc. Hell, maybe they'd invite each other to help work on a project together.

✧ Danse would also offer his services to help with the protection of the settlements. He would help guard the settlements from attacks and train others on how to do so efficiently.

✧ Scribe Haylen would probably visit him often too. She'd let him know of anything of note happening in the BoS, help give him any extra salvage for his shop, and possible warn him if the BoS planned on taking an expedition up to the area (Especially if Red Rocket, Sanctuary, or Abernathy Farms was one of the settlements the BoS wanted food from).

✧ Depending on if Danse is romanced or not, Haylen would either eventually open up to Danse or be in a relationship with Rhys. Either way, they would stay close friends.

✧ Danse would also become buddies with Nick. Sure, he may distrust and dislike him before, but after he himself learns he's a synth, he'd open up. Albeit slowly. Don't expect this man to change his opinions overnight, he did dedicate himself to the Brotherhood after all.

✧ He might not become friends with Hancock, but I can see him also just 'accepting he exists' at this point. Again, don't expect this man to change his views overnight. Since Hancock is a ghoul, he's in the same predicament as Danse. But, since he's a ghoul and not a synth, Danse most likely would stay his distance.

[lovinglonerhybrid]

Not sure if you've talked about this before but Soundwave going gaga for cetaceans. Whales and dolphins each have their own languages and regional/pod dialects. Its the reason you can't just dump a bunch of orcas from different pods in the same tank, they can't really understand each other and become aggressive. Give me Soundwave wanting to figure out cetacean languages/dialects to create his own secret language that is undecipherable to the naked human/cybertronian ear. Soundwave sitting on the ocean floor watching and listening to humpback whale sounds. Soundwave observing orca pods hunt and interact with each other. Soundwave measuring the full force boom click of a sperm whale.

Just Soundwave with whales.

Also mf canonically killed elephant poachers for daring to go after his favorite Earth animal, wtf do you think he'll do to places like Seaworld

Ahhh yes Soundwave would be so interested in how all animals communicate!

We don’t think about it all the time but animals have so meany unique ways to communicate.

Dolphins and orcas using clicks whistles and subsonics to play and hunt. Bees dancing and using Pheromones. Soundwave would find it all so interesting.

When he finds out about roadside zoos and places like sea world there is almost immediately, several large donations made to organizations dedicated to saving these animals.

He helps build sea-pens and sends his cassettes on laboratory raids. He helps the Sea Shepherd stop whale poaching. He single handedly takes down peda because they do more harm then good. He outs puppy mills and disrupts animal trafficking.

Soundwave no matter the continuity is an animal lover and I believe he would all for the preservation of all animals!