#like. in some of these cases yes I /KNOW/ it was not meant to come across like that!!! but y'all accept that as a valid type of media

[meganwhalenturner]

So, last November I got to try my hand at Alchemy

Maddalena Rumor, in the Classics Department of Case Western Reserve University came to have dinner with us and mentioned she'd just successfully turned silver gold.

She had an alchemical recipe from a 7th century BCE cuneiform tablet from the library of Ashurbanipol. She'd been working with Rekha Srinivasan, from the Chemistry Department to see if they could translate the cuneiform, identify the substances mentioned, and then try the recipe to see if it worked.

They traveled to the British Museum to examine the tablet up close. By studying the partial strokes along the edges, Maddalena could make some educated guesses about missing words. Rekha, in turn, could use the descriptions of the substances to make some guesses about what they might be. Then they could start testing their best guesses with experiments.

This is complicated by the tendency of alchemical texts to use code words or inside jokes to describe materials or techniques. Something like me making a recipe that calls for 2 Legs and 1 Arm of Policeman and my friends all knowing it means 2.5 ingots of Copper.

I know the word alchemy comes from the Arabic al-kimia and that it eventually developed into chemistry, but I've always associated it with the worst of the Dark Ages in Europe--charlatans or wannabe magicians in smoke-filled, poorly lit cellars full of of mummified animals and just generally gross stuff that is not my jam.

I'm wondering now if that's because medieval alchemists were reading a lot of things literally that weren't meant to be taken that way. There's a reference in one of Maddalena's article's to a rare case where "human excrement" called for in a recipe is revealed to actually mean "garlic." I can see a lot of ancient alchemists laughing up their sleeves.

I had just learned during a trip to Naples the previous summer that the alchemy of Renaissance philosophers like Pico Della Mirandola was very different from the stuff in the basements of Prague. Instead of dreckapotheke, they were translating texts from the Ancients Greeks, texts that were perhaps based on the very tablets from the 7th Century BCE that Maddalena was studying. I promptly begged to observe her next experiment.

She very graciously said yes, so I went down to a lab at Case and I wish I had taken better notes, but I did not, so what I've got is a bunch of pictures, and I'll have to go back and badger Maddalena for details.

These are the ingredients for the next round of testing.

They will be mixed into a solution in the flask on the right and then heated on a burner.

Then silver tablets will be dipped into the solution:

And turn gold!

Not *into* gold. That was not the plan. Hope you aren't disappointed.

If you thought the object of alchemy in those dark basements in Prague was turn to lead into gold, yeah me, too. And maybe it was, but the alchemy of the ancient Near East seems to have been more clear that transmutation wasn't on offer. After reading some of Maddalena's articles, I now know there were four main practices of alchemy back in the day: coloring silver gold, making a silver alloy that still looked like silver, coloring glass to look like precious stones, and dying wool purple without using those expensive snail shells from Tyre.

I talked about alchemy a lot (really, a lot, everyone was very patient) at a recent writing retreat. Erin Bow called it the Science of Knock Offs.

There are multiple ancient sources that say that this "holy and divine art" (hē hiera kai theia technē) was taught to mankind by fallen angels who were sharing the secrets of heaven. I know it seems ridiculous that an all knowing divine being is going to focus on the Secret Science of Knock Offs, but the more I I think about it, the more I can see it.

ARMUMAHEL: We will share with you the great mysteries of heaven!

MANKIND: . . .

ARMUMAHEL: I can save you some money on purple dye.

MANKIND: YAY!

SAMYAZA: So how did the secret sharing go today, Armumahel? Did they ask about the language of birds? The control over monsters of the deep?

ARMUMAHEL: I told'em how to make glass marbles look like sapphires.

SAMYAZA: You do know Enoch is writing all this down. His book is going to be stuck in the apocrypha and we're going to be laughing stocks.

ARMUMAHEL: I promised to tell them tomorrow how to turn silver gold.

SAMYAZA: Ah! Transmutation of matter! That's a good one!

ARMUMAHEL: No, not transmutation. They just want the silver bowls on the alter to be yellow and shiny.

SAMYAZA: . . .

My shiny yellow tablet. : )

[fanzou]

I Can Love You

♡ A Valentine’s Special

✗ Pairing: Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: You insist that Nico Robin is the right one for him, but he wants to show you why you’re wrong.

✗ Total WC: 6.5K

✗ CW: SMUT! Reader is a little jeeeeelly of Robin and Law’s friendship, reader is also a Straw Hat, LAW HAS A BIG DICK, p in v sex, Law teases too much [let me know if I missed any]

✗ A/N: Enjooooooy!

“You know I was thinking,” you start, and he's ready to rolls his eyes. “Robin and you’d make a great couple.”

Even though he was facing the opposite direction of you, you can tell Law’s face was littered in a scowl.

After spending over 2 weeks with him, he was easier to read. It came with its perks and, well, Law was Law and there wasn’t much else.

“And why’s that?” He feigns interest in what you say, raising his head in your direction while throwing the blood littered gauze pads in the trash can next to the desk. “I think you both would complement each other pretty well. She’s quiet, you’re quiet, she’s pretty wise, you are too.” You pause for a moment, then continue, “She’s also very gorgeous.” You wiggle your eyebrows, with a mischievous look.

“I suggest you take care of those wounds on your body before you worry about who I should or shouldn’t be with.”

Known for your blunt and straightforward manner—he respected it, in truth—pirates weren’t known to talk so formally amongst each other anyways, but this, he would be lying straight out of his teeth had he said he wasn’t taken aback by today’s new invasive question you’d ask him. You’ve said some weird things, never anything about his love life—which was… nonexistent, in your own words.

And yes, you make that very clear to him. A lot.

He looks over to you with your finger to your chin as if deep in thought, like you Straw Hats even had anything to give thought toanyway, and you finally speak, "Yeah... she might be too good for you. Scratch the thought."

He chuckles, “You wound me.”

“But if you had to choose from any woman in your entire life to ever marry, who would you choose?” And he has to remind himself that you are completely and entirely under the influence of painkillers, otherwise he would have mistook you for a 5-year-old with the way the question was structured.

“Definitely not you.”

“Law!” You pout. He makes sure that his back is facing you again so he could sneak in a little smile. “That’s actually a good thing. I’m out of your league.”

He turns around to look at you, hand on his heart, “My heart truly cannot take anymore heartbreak.” He says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard from him.

For most, it was weird that you were left behind by your captain, but in this case—and with a whole lot of begging from the Straw hat himself—you were rushed to Law’s medical aid. Mindlessly running into battle to protect your friends from a life or death situation wasn’t so appealing when you had to face the consequences for the next month.

But you insisted that you didn’t regret your decision if it meant that everyone was safe; or in Law’s words, you were just careless and dumb.

Even though Luffy himself had to be pried away from your side by the swordsman and the cook while you were unconscious for the first few days, Law had explained to you that they had to get a move on (In your crews complete and utter reluctance) for the next up and coming battle when you came to. And when you found out, you were a bit upset to be parted away from them, but quickly found comfort in Law's presence while you were bed-ridden, cracking jokes about how you’d call him captain until your time was up on his submarine.

He looks over to your bandaged condition, high off your ass, and he almost wants to laugh. Even in your drugged out state, you talk about your friends in such high regard, and try playing wingman with him.

You disrupt the comfortable silence while he looks over some of the stuff on his desk, “You’re not gonna believe this, but I’m feeling much better. Y’think I can go back on my own ship yet?” You’re already stretching your arms out. He calls your name with his signature “-ya” attached to it in a scolding manner, “What did I say about moving?” Damn Straw hat.

You immediately deflate and look down, “You’re not letting me do anything. I feel fine.”

“It feels that way until you move a little too much and start to open your wounds again, give it another week and we’ll see how you’re doing.” He’s looking through some pages on his desk. “We can go on another walk tomorrow if you really wanna move that badly.”

“Thank you, Cap!” You beam at him, he feels his heart jump a little bit.

-

Another week has passed and you’re itching to go back to your found family. It’s been this way for the past three weeks, but as the month goes by, you’d just grow more and more eager.

You made him question why he was even doing this often times.

He was a little offended by your verbalized pleas to get out of here, like he wasn’t helping you. In his own little ways, he tried satiating your boredom by doing things that were almost out of character for someone such as himself. He’d even let you tell him about your fellow crew members to make you a little happier.

You’d talk about Luffy quite often, maybe because he knew him way better than anyone else.

You talked about Robin and Nami as well, about how you felt like they were the sisters you never had growing up, about how close you were to them, about how you each met, he was almost sick of how much you talked about them. But if it meant that you were doing okay then that was all that mattered.

Is that why you said that thing a couple weeks ago? About Nico-ya? There was a sincerity in your voice. Robin was a beautiful woman just as you proclaimed, she was around his age, and all the things you said about her held truth.

Maybe it was true—Nico Robin was the woman perfectly crafted for him. And he couldn’t deny her beauty.

He brushes his hand over his face--maybe out of confusion or frustration, he can't decide. But he hated the conflicting feelings that resided in his mind, they made no sense. He never had an issue with women. He didn't want to.

From the day he met you, his beating heart understood an appeal his mind couldn't, you had an annoying personality. You made dumb decisions. You said things too brutally. You never thought about yourself and it was bound to get you killed one way or another. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been spending extra time with you and getting way too familiar with you, but he’s letting himself enjoy it far too much. And he doesn’t know how he’d feel once you parted your ways. He’s never been this close to a woman before, be it the lack of female subordinates on his ship, or his lack of intimacy with just about everyone, it’s a lot for him.

When he has his arm on your hip to assist you in walking and you have yours on his shoulder, he feels his heart rate picking up a little more.

Sometimes when you get tired you beg him to carry you back to your room, he pretends that he hates it, as he leans over for you to get on his back.

And the first week was hell for him when he had to wash you, because bloodied bath and scars aside, your body was beautiful. Every inch of it. He didn't want to be a pervert. He kept chanting the words; this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship in his head when his mind almost slipped to unholy places. If you weren’t in so much pain at the time you’d probably have teased him for how red he looked.

But right now you seem fine, and you and Law (sometimes Bepo) have been going on walks around the submarine every morning now to get you used to physical activity again, you fall into the routine pretty quickly and you don’t seem as depressed as the first few days you were here.

A day ago the submarine ascended out of the water and met with dry land. He was conflicted in telling you— he didn’t know how you’d react. You’re in a completely different place now, different from where you were almost a month ago, it must've be a little weird to come outside after 3 weeks.

It was something that Chopper was extremely adamant on, only because he knew your tendency to wander and extreme desire to explore anywhere you went. You were quite the adventurous one, which is why the Straw Hat himself was probably so upset over your departure.

He sits next to you in a chair from your bed, mentally preparing himself and thinking on how he’d formulate the way he would go about telling you.

Would you stay by his side? Would you immediately go someplace else, and without him?

You’re sat upright in the bed waiting for what he had to say, “We’ll be getting some stock in this new place and I want you to come with us. Just to see how you do.” Your eyes get wider with every word that comes after the next, and you’re smiling. You hadn’t smiled this hard ever since you got here.

What he doesn’t expect, is you to throw yourself onto him. “Thank you Law! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your embrace is warm, and easy to get lost in and he refuses to let himself have that pleasure. "Do they have a carnival? Can we go out to eat?"

He rests his hand on your waist in an effort to pull you off.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, you just got your stitches off.” And he does well to hide the small smile that starts to form.

-

Law insists that you have to be with him, no questions asked.

If not him, then Bepo—the usual routine. It kinda made you mad, I mean, why not go with the other crew mates? You needed the new faces, but he insisted that he wasn’t as confident in their skills to take care of you versus his. Bepo was far more comfortable to be with given his warm and fuzzy embrace. And you envied the captain for having him be apart of the Heart pirates instead of the Straw hats.

You’re excited to finally go out and enjoy the traditions of this new place, you’re wearing a tight dress that looks almost too good on you.

You made a joke to him earlier and told him you were surprised that he didn’t make you wear one of his jumpsuits the rest of the crew worse, then you’re calling him Captain Law to egg on the joke further. All he does is tsk and roll his eyes, like all the time. But you can tell he’s gotten more comfortable with you, and you appreciated it.

Anyway, the town’s food was delectable, you grab some food to-go and eat it while taking a stroll through the busy streets, the smell of more food, presumably some fresh-baked bread met your nostrils and you sighed out of pure satisfaction.

Your partner, on the other hand, all but scowled.

Which gave you an idea.

“Law, let’s go try some bread. I bet they have it freshly baked the way it smells so good.” You hang off of his arm to try and get him to come with you. And he swears the close proximity shouldn’t make him feel weird. He’s been much closer and he’s seen you in much more vulnerable circumstances, but this was different.

He kinda regrets telling you about the bread thing.

“C’moooonnn, you’re a liar if you say you hate bread.” You’re pulling him by his arm now, insisting on getting him into the bakery to try some sweet bread. “I never said I hated it, I said I didn’t like the taste.” This is practically a push and pull game now, “People are looking at us. We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”

You pull away from him in complete and utter defeat and tuck your hands over your chest.

He doesn’t want to miss your touch, but once again, his heart betrays him. “You’re no fun.”

He doesn’t have to miss the skinship for long, almost instantly you’re body is hanging back off of his bicep, talking about the next subject of your absolute fascination, which now happened to be a huge teddy bear plushy that was on display at a ‘convenience’ store. Not only are you closer to him but he can feel your breasts pushing onto his arm. He shudders.

And he tries remaining calm and reminding himself to not be a pervert, you always did this. You always touched him, he touched you. You were doing this as a means for support to walk better (even though you’ve been walking fine for a while now). That’s it.

You interrupt the awkward silence between you two before he starts to feel the immense guilt come over him and he thanks you in his head. His very perverted head. “I feel so much better now that we’re on land again, I feel like I haven’t had fresh air my whole life.” You breathe in and breathe a heavy breath out. “You’re exaggerating, you were on deck not too long ago.”

Your next movement makes him tense, you lay your head on top of his tattooed shoulder. “Thank you so much for taking me out, Law.” And give his captured arm a little squeeze, inevitably making him feel your breasts so much more.

He wants to die.

Collecting himself, he clears his through, “You’re making it seem like this is a date. I’m just here to monitor your progress.” He looks at you then looks ahead.

“Why can’t it be a date?” You ask him, still hanging off of his arm.

If you didn’t feel him tense then, it was especially obvious now. And he was trying to mask how weird he felt when you said that, but every part of him felt really hot, and he prayed that his cheeks weren’t tomato red right now.

“Aww! Look at them, young love, huh?”

“Ooooh, they’re an attractive couple…”

“They’re so cute!”

He calls your name a little coldly, “Get off of my shoulder, you’re sending people the wrong message.” He actually didn’t mind it, but he swears he might die if he feels your breast push up on him one more time. “Sorry…” So you withdraw your body completely from his, (which he totally doesn’t regret at all) and you start your walk with him again, minus your body on his this time.

Letting your eyes wander once again and away from Law, you settle on a trinket store, and the idea of buying Usopp a little gift pops into your head immediately. Just because.

You walk into the store full of weird things galore. You settle on a super shiny thing first and when you pick it up, the salesmen is immediately by your side, “This is a one of a kind (doo-hicky) which can only be found on this here island! (you saw this thing at the convenience store as well) Usual price would be 20,000 berries, but for your pretty little self, I’ll make it 19!”

“Yeah, no.” He immediately deflates.

You continue your walk through the store and not shortly after you land on something that you immediately found more intriguing than the last.

“Law look at this! You would love this!” You turn around,

But there’s just one problem.

Law isn’t with you anymore.

Oh.

And when you wave the salesmen off empty-handed, he seems a little angered but bids his goodbye and fake come again! as well. You look towards the street and it seems like it’s gotten busier.

“Law’s going to kill me!”

You try fishing through the crowd and scanning for a white spotted hat, or fuzzy white fur, but everyone looks plain and simple. Which makes you think about how you guys kinda stick out like sore thumbs… anyway.

You search and search until you find that signature hat you’re looking for, excuse yourself in between what felt like hundreds of strangers and you catch up to him. You grab his hand in excitement, “Law!” Only for it to be quickly taken back, it was a stranger, with eyes that you’re sure could burn holes into you. You say your little sorry and resume your search.

After a long period of searching you’re drained, physically and mentally. You’re sure that if he found you he’d probably strap you down to your bed and not let you leave.

Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.

You’re defeated, extremely, entirely. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been outside like this for what felt like forever, maybe it was the fact that the sun was setting now, or even maybe it was ‘cause you needed Law with you the most right now. You find a near bench and just sit.

And maybe that exhaustion finally got the better of you, because you swore you could see his big muscular tattooed figure paired with Bepo's white fur walking towards you as you dose off into a really, really nice sleep.

-

The sound of one—no, two muffled voices wake you from your slumber, your vision is blurry, and if you were right about him saving you, you could hear what you assume to be Law’s medical instruments clacking together. A sound you’ve grown all too familiar with.

“Captain, you don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

“Do you see what she pulled out there?”

Bepo is silent for a bit, then sighs, “If you think it’s best for her.” He leaves the room on his own accord, leaving just you and the very scary man alone.

“I know you’re up.” He calls you with a firmness in his tone.

Much to your unwillingness, you sit up straight, tail between your legs. He looked a bit unkempt, and you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of you or something else. In whatever way, you felt a little guilty.

“Just plain reckless and obnoxious.” He towers over you, “I have a job to complete, and that requires you being taken care of.”

He's pacing around in your room-- the room, of his ship. Not yours. You've never seen him like this. Like he was distressed. He stills and looks at you.

“You’re not coming out the rest of the week. You can wait until Straw Hat comes and picks you up.”

“What am I, a child?" You swing your legs around to meet the floor and pick yourself up.

"With the shit you just pulled, maybe."

With a scoff, "That's low, even for you, Law. It was an honest mistake and you're making it seem like I almost got us killed? You knew what you were getting into when you took me out!" you pinch your nose in a mix of frustration and some previous dizziness. "Sorry I can't be like Robin!"

Huh? Like who?

He immediately looks at you, and sees a little a tiny but of regret in your face. Like you had just got caught with a big secret.

Well maybe, that’s what it was.

“What is your deal with me and your crew mate, huh?”

Your confident demeanor is quick to fade away and if he didn’t know better, he would say that you were almost a bit embarrassed now. He really couldn’t tell what it was. You weren’t angry anymore, that was for certain. You’re not looking at him with those harsh eyes, you’ve been reduced to silence.

It makes him think a bit. He says your name in an attempt to get you to look at him and he succeeds.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…”

“Jealous?”

If there was ever a more dramatic gasp, it certainly couldn’t have topped the one that just came out your mouth. “How dare you! Not one bit!” Suddenly he has this new profound confidence to him, and his frustrations suddenly wiped clean off his mind. He looks at you with his grin all-knowing, and by God you hated when he did that. You wish you could have wiped it off and smacked it off of him.

“So explain to me, what’s the point of mentioning her again?” You don’t realize it, but he’s inching a bit closer while you’re avoiding any and all contact with him, you’re red. Red all over. Cheeks, ears, neck—everywhere. And you don’t know what to do with your hands, you can feel them collect sweat now. You don’t know why. Because his accusation was false.

He’s in front of you now.

“W-What are you doing? Law?” You scan his face because his stare down is relentless and unforgiving, and his hand finds its way up your neck and soon your chin. He’s awfully quiet. It’s unsettling. You put your hands on his chest to hopefully put a halt in the proximity. “Can you please te—”

His mouth is on yours. It’s a little shocking at first but you’re not pulling away.

And you don’t remember closing your eyes and snaking your hands around his neck, and pulling him in, but you do. His own tattooed hands found caressing your body. And the kiss was really, really passionate. He didn’t think it was gonna be this good, but he was wrong.

He was always wrong about you. Wrong about how he didn’t think you were right for him, wrong about your personality, attitude, everything. He really wanted to stay wrong until you would leave and he’d hardly have to see you again. He’s almost pissed he’s letting himself bask in your warmth and intimacy.

But now that he has it, he can’t go without it.

Few words are exchanged, but what he can do is guide you and put you back on your bed with your lips barely still connected trying to reach for each others and you think to yourself, for a man who claims to not have had so much going on in his love life he sure was skilled in whatever this was. He doesn’t want to take them off of yours. He can’t now. Your hands are under his shirt caressing every part of his torso. The feeling of his abs turned you on so much more and you felt your cunt throb a bit. You were aching for his body and he could tell, he takes his lips off yours with a whine from you that follows suit and immediately licks, sucks and kisses your neck, your audible satisfaction letting him know that he’s made you feel great.

“I need you… so bad.” You say in between huffs.

“How can I be so sure you deserve it?” He gets up, and takes his body off of yours, lips glossy. “How do I know that you won’t pass out on me, either?” He disguises his slight worry in a taunting statement, he’d try being as gentle as possible but he couldn’t make any promises.

“I won’t do that, and please Law. It was a mistake, honest. I need you inside. I wanted this so bad. Please!” You tug him by his shirt, urging him to come back down, he doesn’t. He thinks on your words a bit. You wanted this just as much as he did.

“Take your clothes off.”

He laughs at the very quick work you make of taking every single article of clothing, save for your bra and panties, off. There it was, the very image that kept him up for nights, shamefully touching himself to the thought of you on top of him, and him on top of you. Soon he joins, dropping his shirt and jeans and all else except his boxers, to the floor. He returns to your neck, his body on top of yours and you can feel his clothes dick pressing onto your clit ever so slightly, it draws a shaky breath out of you. “Do you know what you do to me?” He slides down your bra to continue his trail of kisses and licks on your nipples. “And you’re worrying about someone else. You’re so pathetic.” You arch impossibly closer into him and start to buck your hips into his crotch.

“Need it sooo bad, put it inside me already, pleaaaaase!” His dick is throbbing in his boxers now. He shakes his head “You’re not prepped.”

“I’m wet enough, please baby. I need you inside of me.” You claw at his chest in an attempt to get what you want.

But he refuses, he can’t. He goes down on you anyways, taking off your panties and the string of wetness that connected from your underwear to your cunt validated your statement. This was straight out of one of his wet dreams; you sprawled out and begging to be filled with his aching cock. He wanted more than anything to make you beg for him like your life depended on it to carry out the fantasy but, he was afraid he was just as desperate as you were right now. He continued and gently presses your legs up, swiping his thumb across your slit to test the waters (literally), your slick gathered onto his thumb and made a great lubricant, but he still wanted to make you feel good.

He licks his thumb clean and settles between your legs and gives your throbbing heat a few lips and sucks on your clit. He can feel you shake underneath him, and he separates your legs by your inner thighs to get a better angle.

The image in front of you made you hot, that’s all you could say about it. It made you hot and shaky and you thought you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you soon, Law hears your pleas, and to temporarily compensate for it, he sticks two fingers into you while he’s practically making out with your clit. You look down with an almost drowsy expression, your moans get so much louder but you don’t even care anymore. He was sexy and he was eating you out. That would be your excuse to anyone who dared to get too close to the door.

His two fingers were pretty big enough to even cause you a bit of trouble alone, and his constant prodding and scissoring made you seethe a bit, but you didn’t care because the pain and the pleasure mixed together made you feel the growing orgasm in your stomach. You shout his name, “I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna cum… mmm~” your whines and moans are breathy.

But he pulls away, and you look to him in shock. He gets up from his position and he’s on his knees in front of you, and he’s threatening the hem of his boxers, you quickly forget about your failed orgasm, knowing the main course was yet to come.

It almost feels like when he pulls down his boxers, time is in slow motion. Maybe because you wanted him extra due to the lack of action you were getting, and your inability to masturbate for the longest time, were you so eager to get him in your pants, nothing prepared you for when he pulled down his underwear.

And now you understood why he wanted to prepare you.

When he pulled them down, his cock shot right up and bounced a little bit before it was like it was staring right at you. You gulp. Because that’s all you could do. And you didn’t even want to look at Law in the eye because you know he was gonna give you some smug and shitty smirk. Like a hypnosis, you get in position and spread your legs further.

“You ready?” He puts one arm next to your head and crouches down a little bit, you can’t even speak. You just hum. You’re expecting him to get it over with, but now he’s just stroking your slit with that absolute beast, “You sure you’re ready?” And now you’re forced to look away from the heavenly scene and into his dumb and beautiful eyes.

“W-What was I saying for like the past 10 minutes? Put it in!” He only chuckles at how you jump at him, demanding him like you have any control. So he slides it in, head only. With your hand on his bicep, digging nails as you’re squeezing him both down there and with your hand that looks for some kind of help in his arm.

He removes his hand that pushes his cock inside and rests in on your chin to bring your eyes up to him, the action was so gentle it could’ve made you forget what was just going down. “Just look at me.” It makes your heart flutter.

And while you do, you feel so much better about the monster that’s sliding into you inch by inch. You furrow your eyebrows at him and chant his name like some sort of ritual. He’s almost all the way in, and the beads of tears in the corner of your eyes make him twitch inside of you with a groan. He looks at you like you hold the answer the all of his problems, like he just wants to be here with you only, and that’s exactly what it was. Like he’d pass away peacefully if it meant he passed away in between your legs.

Once he bottoms out, he stays there a little bit. He gives your lips a quick kiss before he moves into you, elbows on each side of your head. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, and he mentally curses at himself for not removing your bra so that he could see your tits jump freely. You’re on a different planet at this point, nothing has ever felt better. You look into his eyes, then down at what’s connecting you and you swear you could cum right there.

“‘F-Feels… so… good. Hah…” his thrusts find a comfortable pace now, “I feel full and good. Thank yoooouuummmm!” This is what you had been reduced to, thanking him for fucking you.

“Such a fuckin’ slut. Maybe I should keep you all to myself. For good.” His thrusts pick up a little bit now, “Straw Hat’s gonna have to fight me for this.” You whine in response. It took pretty quick for you to start to get cock-drunk off of him. He didn’t take you for the overly sensitive type but here you were, begging him and thanking him for some dick. He would so use that against you later.

He kisses you again, and he’s settled into you a whole lot more. The position changed a little for his body to be closer to yours, and almost in an instant does your skin start slapping against each other. You were a moaning mess, the new position held so much intimacy and so much of him was on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t stop. I’m almost there, I need it. Need it so bad. Let me have it!”

“Beg a little more.”

“Please, Law! Please! I need you to make me cum! Please, make me cum. Please please please…” and they don’t stop. It looks like his fantasies came to life after all.

He lets you have it because he needs it just as much as you do, the last few thrusts come a little more quick-paced and it’s hitting you in the exact spot you needed to let yourself unfold.

With a loud call to his name, you cum. You came so hard you saw stars. And he just kept fucking you through it.“‘Gonna fill you up.” He grunts and groans in an effort to reach his own moment of bliss and it’s quicker to hit him than he can comprehend, he cums inside of you and shivers a little bit in doing so, finding comfort in the crook of your neck in an effort to cover up how vulnerable he felt in that moment. No women could ever compare. He was a mess for it.

As for his fill inside of you, he’d just use his devil-fruit power to remove it, but right now he absolutely relished in the way it so effortlessly leaked out of you. You were his, officially.

Collecting his own self, he pushes himself off of you, “You’re not going cold on me, are you?” He gets up off of the comfortable position once again, peering down at your fucked-out state.

“Would you give me a second? I thought you fucked me into another dimension for like half a minute.” You huff. He gives you your time while you catch your breath, he’s rubbing circles on each side of your hips to help alleviate the strain—well that’s the doctor for you. He’ll fuck you into the mattress and then help your muscles de-stress. You couldn’t deny the gentleness and how kind the gesture was and you soften up a bit.

“Get on your hands and knees when you’re ready.” You’re up hilariously quick. And he’s already half hard from waiting for you. Your figure from the back was something he’d think back on for many nights, but getting to see your face was beyond compare.

You whimper, “I’m ready, c’mon!” You comedically and desperately wiggle your ass in front of him, he wants to laugh but it was really fucking sexy, the way you yearned for him, and he holds your hip with one hand, lining himself up once again. The hard part wasn’t so difficult this time around, and he pushes himself inside of you a little too eagerly, almost giving away his own very need. He starts to thrust into you again, and being inside of you was like heaven on earth. Though it wasn’t even 2 minutes that he was fucking you before, he was sensitive this time around, and he had to go slower to start.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” You hum a moan in a little more than approval. He’s sliding into you, watching how his cock disappears into you.

The best thing about this position is how you wouldn’t be able to see his face, how pussy-whipped he looked. If he went any faster he could cum, so he needed to start slow.

You were far past the sensual and slowness. You needed it fast and hard. “Law, go faster!”

“Don’t call me by my name. What do you call me in this room? On this ship?” Very bold in his proclamation. But he can feel your hesitance.

He smacks your ass, and you jump a bit, clenching around him very tightly. “I said, what do you call me?”

“C-Captain, please… please go faster.”

But he stops. And he swears he might be torturing his own self more, if it meant for how much you begged and whined for it, though, he wasn’t disappointed.

“If you want to go faster so bad, fuck me yourself.”

You almost want to cry from how brutal he sounded, but the vulgarity of his words makes you clench around him again. And so, you start to thrust back into him, fucking him while he watched you.

With the first few thrusts you’re already clutching the sheets below you, and it’s taking more power than you thought it would. You can’t bring yourself to stop, though. The way it felt, it was too good.

“How does it feel?”

“S-So good, Cap.” Your eyes rolled into your skull.

“You gonna make your captain cum?”

“Mhhmm~”

With a breathy voice he says, “Guess this is my reward for taking such good care of you, huh? All paid off. I don’t usually get this special treatment from my usual patients.”

“I’m n-not a usual… patient.” You hardly breathe out.

He grips both sides of your hips to make you stop in your movement and he shuffles a bit, not long after is he asking you, “Are you gonna be good from now on?”. You say yes, a thousand times over. He moves like he did before, only just picking up his thrusts quicker and quicker. The sound of his skin meeting yours makes its return only louder. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Couldn’t possibly be. You’re too special. Made just for me.”

“Yes *thrust* Captain! *thrust*”

His leg is raised to the side to get a better angle into your cunt and he feels a second orgasm quickly approaching. He’s so sweaty, drenched. His hair clings onto his forehead and his hands can barely take grip on your skin anymore. Fuck, he moans. He’s getting dizzy now. This is the best he’s felt in a while.

You, on the other hand, have your face pressed in the sheets with your orgasm on quick approach. You’re sensitive, too sensitive. And you cum with a loud whine, all your liquids spraying onto him like it was comical. He came not so far after you, with his head falling back and a breathy moan.

You both try to catch your breaths before he felt on top of you. He kissed your shoulder as his own little thank you and rolled over on the very much drenched mattress. You lay on top of him while your whole body shook and he quickly wraps his arm around your figure.

You both sit in a comfortable silence go try catching your breaths and try to pace yourselves so you could relax. And surprisingly, Law is the first to speak.

“Never pinned you for the jealous type.”

“Oh would you quit it already? You’re so good at ruining soft moments!” You push him lightly, you roll over on the other side of the mattress and he immediately grabs you back. He was so annoying.

If he asked you to stay with him, would you have done it? No, that was wishful thinking. He’s seen with his own very eyes how much Straw Hat loved you. This is the thing he dread the most about this, he shouldn’t have done it. He brought you into his own sick and dark fantasy of keeping you here just for him and now he regrets it completely. It was wishful thinking on his end, all of it.

“‘This a one time thing?” He asks to try and ground himself.

But you’re quick, “No, better not be!” You get up and sit on the bed, and he doesn’t understand how you’re up. He should be the one to get up. “Unless you declare me your enemy once I leave.” Your fingers are dancing on his chest, tracing the tattoos on his body, “But I’m fine with being with you like this. It can be our little secret anytime we see each other. Especially that captain thing, you freak.”

He laughs, and your words do bring him that relief. He pulls you by your arm for a tender kiss, something you were a bit surprised by.

He was fine with it, he’d take what he can get for now, as long it meant he could be with you.

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: Byung-hun comes in for a photoshoot where you are working as an assistant. The head photographer is running pretty late and asks you to keep him busy. You soon find out he can't keep his hands off of you. Tags: Public Sex, Fantasy, Mild Exhibitionism, Light Dominance, Some Dirty talk Disclaimer: This is not meant to depict real people, places, or events. Story contains adult themes and all participants in these activities are of legal adult ages. Story content is not suitable for minors. Read with caution.

You have not been an assistant for long but even so, the job is very tiring. Rewarding but tiring. Initially, you thought that maybe you would be more involved with the process of taking photos. Actually taking them. Instead, you work for a pretty nightmarish and controlling witch who has to have everything just right in order to shoot a set of photos. Still, she is one of the best in the business. Clients of all walks of life, including celebrities, are constantly coming through the studio. You know that you can make some important contacts here and learn more skills to build a great reputation of your own. You learn to work with it because you know it will work better for you in the long run. 

One day she is running late. She calls you to tell you that you are going to have to take care of her next client for an hour or so because there is heavy traffic on the way back from her location shoot which she didn't take you on. You don't get to go on many of those because she always wants someone in the studio just in case. It's not too bad as it gives you time to practice your own work and take care of other things that need to get done. You assure her that the client will be well handled and there is nothing to worry about. You have done this many times before, after all. Just as you are hanging up, he walks into the studio and looks right at you. 

You hadn't had time to check the books to see the name of the client coming in and you didn't expect it to be him of all people. Someone that you have spent more hours fantasizing about than you ever want to admit. Byung-Hun. You already feel a blush rise up on your cheeks as he approaches your desk. 

"Good afternoon, sir." You say softly, unable to look directly at him. 

"I'm here to see Anastasia." 

"Yes, she's running a bit late. There was an accident and some traffic but I can take care of you until then. If you don't mind waiting." You tell him quickly, "Can I get you a drink?" 

"Sure, I have some time," He says going to take a seat on the couch, "Just a bottle of water or whatever is easiest." You nod and walk across the room to grab one of the bottles chilling in the fridge then come back to him and hold it out slowly. He takes it from you with a very charming smile and you hurry back to your desk trying your hardest not to stare at him. You sit behind your computer and try to look busy but you are worried about him getting bored with waiting. Anastasia doesn't like angry clients. She says that gives them a bad aura when she's trying to shoot. 

"I am sorry about this, it's not typical for her." You try to assure him. 

"It's fine, really, not in a hurry today." He says and glances at the TV that is on the wall in the waiting area. 

"The remote is, over there." You tell him and motion to where it is sitting on the table by the couch where he is. "At least it will give you something to do, right?" 

"Thanks." He says and picks it up. Since you don't have any clue what to actually talk to him about and fear you may say something very stupid if you have to keep talking to him, you attempt to focus on other work you have to do. Forms you need to fill out and clients that you have to email. 

You can't focus. Not only is he right there on the couch in front of you, you can smell him. It's intoxicating. You find yourself staring in his direction periodically before forcing yourself to look away. That is until the moment he catches you doing it. You panic and quickly look back down at your keyboard but he gets up and walks over to the desk, placing his hands on it, tapping his fingers lightly over the top of the wood. 

"I know that look," he says. 

"What look? I was just checking to make sure you were comfortable, sir." You say, unable to look at him once more. 

"Come on," He says, "You think I don't get that look a thousand times a day? I know what it means...I just usually don't get it from girls as cute as you." You are surprised to hear that and look up at him in shock. He thinks you're cute? Why is his voice so low and sensual? You lick your lips as suddenly your mouth has gone dry even if other places have become much wetter. 

"Cute?" You manage to choke out. 

"Oh yeah," He says and leans in to stroke your cheek, running a thumb over your lips softly, "Why keep fantasizing about it when you have the real thing right here in front of you?" All you are able to do is let out a soft squeak because you can't believe this is really happening. Can it be? You have to be dreaming again. That or the stress of this job has caused you to go completely insane but, does that matter right now? You aren't sure that you care. 

"You're serious?" You ask him. 

"Very serious, been awhile for me too...get so busy and lonely. This life isn't all it's cracked up to be and didn't you say she's running late?" He asks. 

"Yes but," 

"Shhh," He presses a finger over your lips gently and you go silent. You have no desire to contradict him and you are supposed to take care of as well as entertain the clients right? It would be bad for business if they got bored and left. "Stand up, come on." You nod stupidly and get to your feet. He looks you over before stepping around the desk and pulling you towards him. With a hungry glint in his eyes he captures your mouth in a kiss. His lips are much more soft and perfect than you could have ever dreamed of. 

When he pulls back you just stand there, staring at him breathlessly. He quickly shoves a few things off of your desk, grabs you by the hips and bends you over it. His hands run over your back to your skirt which he shoves up over your ass, gives it a nice firm slap with his hand causing you to yelp. His hand moves over the back of your thighs and between your legs. You mewl softly, when you feel his fingers on the crotch of your already soaked panties as he starts to tease you with those perfect fingers. 

"You really do want this, don't you?" He leans down to purr in your ear. 

"More than anything..." You gasp. He chuckles softly and slides your panties down, pressing your head to the desk as he unzips his pants. You can hear it but can't quite see what he's doing. Not that it matters, you wouldn't even care if you were blind folded. He moves in closer, you can feel him teasing your opening with his cock, which only gets you to moan, then whine, before he thrusts in. Firmly yet some how still very gentle. You groan and close your eyes as he starts to to move. Each time he thrusts he gets in a bit deeper. One hand holds your hair tightly, the other grasps your hip, enough that you are sure his fingers will leave bruises on your skin but you welcome that more than anything. 

"Like this?" He purrs breathlessly as he moves. He's good at this, far more than you could have dreamed up yourself. Even your own fantasies aren't this good. You close your eyes and moan again. 

"Yes...harder....please?" You beg. He starts to speed up, seemingly hitting every right place inside of you. Pleasuring nerves you weren't even sure you had. You hear him moan and a shiver runs through you, he starts to work his hips faster. You rock back towards him as the intensity rises. The heat inside of you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the waiting room as he fucks you nice and hard. 

"Are you close? Huh? Going to cum all over my cock like a good girl?" He breathes. 

"Y-Yes...fuck...please let me cum!" You cry, wanting nothing more than that. He starts to pound into you at a feverish pace until you hit your climax and cry out. Your cunt clenching around his cock as you hear him groan loudly, one last time, as he cums too. His motions erratic, kind of jerky, he all but collapses on you, breathing down your neck as he licks and kisses at the skin there for a moment before pulling back. You feel him slip out of you and whine. You know you're going to miss that and it will be hard for anyone to top ever again. 

By the time you recover so you can grab your panties and make yourself decent again, he's already headed back to the couch. A grin on his face as he sits down and grabs his water bottle. You look at him bashfully as he takes a sip. Then you clear your throat, knowing that you are going to have to excuse yourself to get cleaned up. 

"I uh...should get cleaned up." You tell him sheepishly. 

"Alright," He says, "But don't stray too far, might have to go for round two if Anastasia keeps me waiting any longer." 

[musical-chick-13]

Okay, no, sorry, I’m still mad about this. “Be critical of the media you consume and examine why you react to it in the way that you do, support marginalized and stigmatized identities.” Yeah, until it’s about mental illness.

A woman (or even man, if he’s deemed over-emotional) makes music about suffering from mental illness and people just go, “What are they complaining about, that’s so immature, hashtag wangst.” (And then, sometimes, inexplicably, if the mentally ill woman gets better and writes happier music, they then talk about how artistically bankrupt she is now and that she should go back to hating herself.) People LOVE cis white pRoBLeMaTiC (straight) fictional men until they are realistically mentally ill, in which case they’re “whiny” and “insufferable” and deserve to die violently, apparently (or, if fandom is merciful, they’re ignored). (And then they celebrate when they DO inevitably get killed off.) “Do your duty and watch [thing I, mc13, personally find insufferable] For The (white) Gays because it has Gays.” Sure, will you watch c4 Pure, the ONLY show specifically about OCD, then? (No, the answer is no, it’s always no.)

I can’t get anyone to watch Doom Patrol. I couldn’t get people (in general-I did convince a few irl friends thank GOD) to watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. One of the most popular and acclaimed shows right now has a character with schizophrenia who was turned into the Big Bad Villain for no fucking reason. One of the most commonly-cited examples of Iconic™ queer media involves a mentally ill man being broken over and over and over again before The Ship™ can reasonably happen. DW introduced a major character who was at one point suffering from mental illness in her past, AND THEN ALL MENTION OF THIS WAS COMPLETELY DROPPED IN THE FUTURE, WITH NO BEARING ON ANYTHING TO THE POINT WHERE I FORGOT IT EVEN EXISTED??!?!? R*tched was a thing that existed despite the Sad Sympathetic Backstory treatment being IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION OF WHAT PURPOSE THIS CHARACTER SERVED IN One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. THEY GAVE. A SAD WOOBIE VILLAIN TREATMENT. TO THE /LITERAL PERSONIFICATION/ OF ABLEISM. THAT IS HER FUNCTION. TO EXIST AS A SYMBOL OF ALL THE WAYS SOCIETY OPPRESSES THE DISABLED AND MENTALLY ILL.

I am!!! Literally!!!!! The only one!!!!!!!!! Complaining about these things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE ONLY ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one else has said ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one is talking about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so tired!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

plague peepaw

[itsalwaysdark]

okay sooo 1. once little man is done with my laptop i need to do the ssn shit bc i have the letter 2. in an hour i need to switch my laundry to the dryer and at Some point i need to sleep preferablyyyy i oush as long as i can its been 28 hours i Think? since i woke up i dont avtually remember its all kind of a blur i do have a headache and my fuckshit tooth is bothering me but whatever . once i get the ssn login thing done im pretty sure i can get a new card like right away and then once that gets here i can go and get my permit And by then my new glasses will be here which is epics and ummm at some point not today bc im tired and have a headache aka not at my best. so once those 2 things r not the case i need to do the science and math ged practice tests ive been putting them off bc im scared ill do bad SKULL.but i need to get those done ... and omce i have the permit and everything thennnnnn i can go do my actual proper ged tests and once those r done ill have my ged and an id and thus can start applying for jobs again And ill be so brave and ask my mom to teach me how to drive . YIPPEE

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[thecherrygod]

Of course I'm gonna remember the fucked up dream I had today that didn't let me continue sleeping when I'm about to fall asleep.

[jacklesraised]

i thought i'd have time to do a gif pack before i left but i didnt beeches so i'm like 22 gifs into it and halfway through the episode i'll finish either when i get home or tomorrow beeeee

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.

and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.

...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.

see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.

while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.

especially if the president of the united states is on board.

yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.

and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."

but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.

...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.

not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.

yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.

but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire

[norrisainz33]

Miami Baby | MV33

☆ summary: actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush.

☆ pairing: max verstappen x famous!reader x grid!platonic

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

☆ requested: nope!!

☆ a/n: this was one of the first fics i ever started writing and just havent had the nerve to post it. this is my first time posting a written and smau fic so bear with me here 🥹

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has added to their story

[story 1: guess what i’m up to this week] [story 2: princess treatment fr 💅🏻]

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user2: MIAMI GRAND PRIX?!

user4: omg are you finally going to a grand prix!!!!???

yourbff: AND SHES DRIVING A FERRARI?!

ynuser: YES!! this is a dream come true

yourbff: i’m so happy for you y/n/n 🤍 FORZA FERRARI!!!!

ynuser: FORZA FERRARI

tomholland2013: Hope you have the best time in Miami!! Z says that you have to come with us to Silverstone tho

ynuser: thank you tommy!! count me in 🫶🏻

user3: MAMA Y MIAMI

user1: car or driver - level impossible

ynuser has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, zendaya and 2,657,101 others

ynuser: hot new driver alert, watch out boys! Make sure to catch my hot lap with The Carlos Sainz and say hi if you see me this weekend in Miami 🫶🏻❤️🏎️

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user3: the way she was giggling like a little kid as carlos whipped the car around , oh i love her

user4: no bc she’s finally at a gp living her dreams

user6: she’s literally just another celebrity?

user5: user6 you don’t know the lore! she’s been an f1 fan since before she got famous and she’s been friends with rebecca and alex for quite a while

carlossainz55: had an absolute blast driving with you! looking forward to seeing you this weekend!

ynuser: likewise!!!

scuderiaferrari: bellissima! ready for an exciting weekend ❤️

iamrebeccad: hottest hot lap i’ve ever seen😍😍

maxverstappen1: hot lap with me next

charlesleclerc: since when do you do hot laps?

user8: AM I READING THIS RIGHT

user9: MAX!???????????

user10: i’m sorry is the max verstappen trying to flirt rn

charlesleclerc has posted a story

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ynuser: thank you charlie 🫶🏻

charlesleclerc: bien sûr y/n

user3: do you wanna be my chauffeur next?

maxverstappen1: charles you have got to introduce me to her

charleslerclerc: to who?

maxverstappen1: y/n

charlesleclerc: max are you ok?

maxverstappen1: what do you mean??? yes, i am ok??

charlesleclerc: i’m just shocked you willingly want to be introduced to someone??? let alone a celebrity?

maxverstappen1: charles 🙄

maxverstapppen1: she may or may not be my celebrity crush ok

charlesleclerc: ohhh mon ami you should have said that sooner

charlesleclerc: i’ll get alex and rebecca on the case 😉

maxverstappen1: oh god no charles i just meant an introduction i don’t need anyone on the case 😭

user12: 3 pretty best friends

user14: the little matching outfits?! im sick

ynuser has added to their story

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user15: you were made to wear ferrari merch

iamrebeccad: can’t wait to show you off to all the other boys 😍

ynuser: but you’re the only one i want 😫

iamrebeccad: i know darling but im not the only one who wants you 😉

ynuser: CRYPTIC what does that mean

alexandrasaintmleux: i’m so glad we finally got you to ferrari mon amour but we should definitely take a walk around the paddock!! you can meet some drivers that aren’t in red - maybe some blue

ynuser: i’ll go anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i think red bull blue would look better on you

ynuser: blue? perhaps!

user17: begging to know where you got that belt it’s so slay

user22: one of these drivers has got to wife you up you’d be the best wag

user18: can’t wait for all the pictures of you on the grid

ynuser has added to their story

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charlesleclerc: find max! he’ll help you get back to ferrari

user14: steal all their notes and bring it to ferrari so we can have a better car

landonorris: come to mclaren its way better here

ynuser: ok then come get me muppet i’m lost 😭

user87: steal one of the cars and give it to carlos!!!

user23: ms girl what are you doing there?? i thought you were supposed to be filming your new movie!

iamrebeccad: 🤭🤭🤭

ynuser: oh so you did this on purpose?

user55: project get ferrari a rocket ship is a go

~~

The pit lane was humming with activity as mechanics and team members alike continued with their duties after a productive qualifying session. You glanced around looking for your friends, alex and rebecca, who had convinced you to take this walk in the first place, but you couldn’t find them in the sea of red bull employees. Letting out a sigh you pulled out your phone hoping to see some sort of reply from either them but there was nothing.

"y/n?" a familiar voice questioned, startling you out of your thoughts. you were met with a confused looking max verstappen and you felt your cheeks heat. max was still in his white fireproofs with his suit pulled down around his waist and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look incredible. you may have accidentally admitted to alex that max was your crush on the grid and you had a sneaking suspicion thats why both her and rebecca magically disappeared leaving you here.

"yes! hi max!!" you said quickly, holding out your hand for him to shake. "it's a genuine honor to meet you!" max looked down at your outstretched hand and paused for a moment before taking it in his own.

his hand engulfed yours as a grin stretched across his face, "the honor is mine, y/n - i'm actually a pretty big fan of yours."

"you are?"

max chuckled, "yes? is that hard to believe?"

"no, no .. i just didn't think you'd know who i was! i mean - im just surprised is all," you said quickly, realizing you were stumbling over your words but max didn't seem to be phased.

"don't be surprised, you are quite talented," max took a sip from his red bull can and you watched as his eyes danced around the pit lane. "do you want an escort back to ferrari?"

"yes, please."

"great, come with me," max rested his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you through the red bull garage and back to the paddock. he made idle chit chat as you tried your very best to focus on anything other than the electricity you could feel from where his hand met the fabric of your dress.

"ahh there you are mon amor!" alex cooed as you and max approached the ferrari hospitality. rebecca looked between you and max with a knowing look on her face. you made a mental note to talk to them both later about how they couldn't just leave you places unattended even if it meant meeting max.

"well would you look at this," charles patted max on the back as he walked past taking his place next to alex. he had a devilish smirk plastered across his handsome features as his eyes travelled between the two of you.

"max was kind enough to help me navigate my way back here after alex and rebecca so sweetly ditched me in the pit lane."

"oh was he now? well then we must repay my dear friend! how about you come to the club with us after the race tomorrow max?" charles looked expectantly at his friend.

max let out a sigh, "i suppose i could be persuaded."

"thats the spirit!" charles clapped his hands together, "i'll text you the details mon ami."

a night club? in miami? with max verstappen? this ought to be interesting.

~~

ynuser has posted multiple stories

[story 1: race day let’s go] [story 2: im not crying!! YOU are] [story 3: idk if miami can handle us @.alexandrasaintmleux]

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user16: you crying over lando winning his first race is so real

landonorris: i am crying u r right girl

ynuser: as long as ur not cryin in the club

landonorris: not yet !! but the night is young!!

user22: ok body is tea wtf

alexandrasaintmleux: you’re so beautiful i love you so much

ynuser: YOU are so beautiful. i love you more my girl

yourbff: why are you !! a ferrari!!! crying over a mclaren?!

ynuser: bc it’s lando and we love bob in this house

yourbff: ok yeah fine

user12: miami is NOT ready for your hotness that’s for sure

ianrebeccad: ok i need to borrow that outfit from you asap. also pls get to the club faster im stuck here without you both 🥹

ynuser: you’re the one who wanted to “get ready” with carlos and not us soooooo

user44: i’m foaming at the mouth

maxverstappen1: understandable to cry over me not winning

ynuser: i’m glad you get it 😫

user45: that’s not a face card, that’s a whole face economy

user33: who are these divas?

~~

max could feel the music pounding through his chest as his fellow club goers danced to the beat. feeling all sorts of nerves, he brought his gin and tonic to his lips and took a few big gulps hoping the liquid courage would hit him soon. his eyes couldn’t help but follow you as you swayed your entire body to the music without a care in the world. readjusting the hat on his head, he watched as your skirt inched lower on your hips and he could almost feel his mouth start to water.

“max just go and talk to her!” charles yelled over the music pulling max out of his thoughts.

“i can’t.”

“quoi? what do you mean you can’t?”

“she’s just… i just… i can’t!” max finished off his drink and set it down on the table in front of him. “i mean look at her,” max explains throwing his arms up in exasperation, “she’s so beautiful!! i’m not sure i’d even know what to say.”

“just ask her to dance or to get another drink!” charles looked over to you, alex and rebecca as you danced with carlos and lando.

“i can’t.”

“max - if you don’t i guarantee someone else is going to try and make a move on her.” charles was now staring max down with a scowl on his face, “and i know that would upset you more than just growing some balls and talking to her!”

max frowned, realizing his friend was right. “i’m just scared she won’t like me.”

“i have insider knowledge that says she fancies you.”

max’s eyes widened, “and you didn’t lead with that?”

“no because i wasn’t supposed to tell you!! now please for the love of god let’s go get her.”

max and charles navigated their way through the sea of bodies until they made it to your little group. you looked up at max with a bright smile and he felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify. before he lost all of his nerve, he blurted out “get a drink with me?”

you nodded, “i’d love to!” max smiled and grabbed your hand so that he wouldn’t lose you in the mass of people.

there was very little available space at the bar which left you leaning against the counter and max directly behind you leaning against you so that he could hear the bartender. not a single coherent thought was going through your head, all you could focus on was the way max’s body rested against yours, the warmth it offered you, the way he was resting his strong hands on either side of you and how if you turned you’d be face to face and able to kiss him right on—

max tapped on your shoulder pulling you out of your thoughts and earning a slight jump from you. “the bartender asked what you wanted to drink, y/n” max explained into your ear causing goosebumps to spread like wild fire across your skin.

the bartender was looking at you expectantly, “oh! i’ll take a gin and tonic please!!” you panic ordered not being able to come up with anything else on the spot. “so sorry,” you quickly added as the bartender turned to make your drink. mentally you scolded yourself for not being able to get it together but boy was keeping it together hard when the max verstappen was very much taking up your personal space.

after thanking the bartender for your drinks, max took a step back allowing you to turn and look at him. he was in a pair of his classic skinny jeans, a backwards black cap, a black tshirt that hugged his arms perfectly and he wore a soft smile as he looked down at you with his big blue eyes. “wanna dance?” you asked before taking a gulp of your drink.

max’s grin grew, “absolutely.” you decided not to give him any time to reconsider and instead grabbed his hand and drug him out to the dance floor. you could feel eyes on you both but you didn’t care. “i should likely preface this with the fact that i’m not much of a dancer,” max admitted sheepishly. he was taking note of how close you both were now. you had stopped rather abruptly in the middle of the dance floor leaving him so close to you that he could steal your breath if he really wanted and oh boy did he want to.

you laughed effortlessly, “everyone is a dancer if they try hard enough, max!" The DJ began playing a remix of one of your favorite songs and max watched intently as you began moving to the music. He threw back the remainder of his drink and made quick work of discarding it, feeling more courageous now.

you quickly noticed max was still very much standing completely still. “it’s all in the hips,” you cooed putting your free hand on his hips and pushing him so he would move. max obliged and began swinging his hips back and forth timidly, not having a ton of room to move out at the center of the dance floor. "atta boy!" you praised giving him a smirk.

max almost choked on air at that comment from you — what could he say? he was a sucker for praise and that comment gave him the confidence he needed to place both hands on your hips and pull you in so that your body fit snuggly against his own. max had a feeling that this was going to be a very good night.

~~

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6 and 26,264 others

f1gossip: last night max verstappen and actress y/n y/l/n were seen attending a party with many of the grid members. they seem to have gotten very cozy out on the dance floor sharing quite a few kisses. it’s also reported that the pair were seen leaving together at the end of the night.

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user1: OMG WHAT MY WORLDS COLLIDING

user2: nah he looks so fine in that hat omg

user8: i knew him offering that hot lap had to mean something

user6: they’re both so hot i’m sure their night was … actually imma stop myself before i get banned

user3: this was orchestrated by alex and rebecca i just know it

user8: i could see charles and lando getting in on it too tbh

user4: jealousy doesn’t look pretty on me but dear lord am i jealous

user5: he may have bagged the baddest baddie alive.. how did he manage that in those skinny jeans

user4: listen those skinny jeans make his thighs look real biteable

user5: and you got me there

user9: need more max and y/n content asap

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[inkskinned]

i was raised by a catholic deacon so as a kid - maybe ages 7 to 14 - i would have told you that abortion was only okay in exception cases like rape. i didn't even really understand any of the terms at play here, only how to parrot that there were "few and far between" exceptions, but abortion-as-a-whole was irresponsible and evil. i believed it was a bad form of birth control.

for context's sake - i still had a flip phone. google wasn't really a thing back then. the whole narrative was akin to the apostle's creed: i don't know that i ever thought about what the words meant, only that this was what i was supposed to say when asked. i remember being in 4th grade and having it down pat - abortion is evil, except in cases such as rape. my father wasn't insensitive, after all - he acknowledged there might be medical necessity to end a life.

what changed was that at 14 i learned how hard it is to prove that a rape has happened.

it was a boy, actually. and his piano teacher. and him telling me, crying, that nobody believed him that he didn't want it. and what if she gets pregnant?

this is the mark in a lot of our lives: at some point, someone will confide in you, and then you see exactly how often it happens. how it happens so fucking loudly, and nobody says anything. how often your friends, nervous, will shakily admit that while they love their partner, there are a few times that they didn't really consent, that they didn't really want it. for others, there are nights half-remembered in bars. for others, they married their partner at 15, so now it's "fine", legally. for others, there are yes moments that felt like a no. there were no moments that were never acknowledged. you say no but are told you actually said yes because of what you were wearing or because he is good at swimming and his life would be ruined or because he's a nice guy or -

in the last 8 years, my father has become radicalized. he now believes in "no exceptions".

but the truth is that there was never going to be a true "exception" clause. there was never going to be a grey area. i am not even really sure they believe in the concept of rape. and if they did - how would you ever prove it? in the six weeks you have to state your case - when it takes years in a court of law - the "rape exception" would simply evaporate under the continued pregnancy. you were never going to have a moment where you could privately tell a doctor - it's because of a rape. there was no box you could check. there was no form you could file. it was always going to be assumed consensual until proven malignant. it was always going to be your fault.

they also knew they couldn't actually sell the rest of us on this idea of it's always blessed. they knew in their hearts that every pregnancy should be wanted. they knew going in that plenty of us - even raised catholic, even having had this shoved down our throats - plenty of us still had too many questions about what ifs.

it's just they just didn't want to come off as monsters. they patted our heads and taught us they weren't insensitive. they just had these beliefs. and then they put their hands on our bodies. and said if you don't listen, i'm going to force them.

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[mariasont]

House Rules - A.H

summary: bimbo!asssitant!reader hasn't been answering her phone all day, hotch needs her to clarify something about a case report, or at least that's what he tells himself when he shows up at her house

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader wearing some skimpy pjs, pre-relationship pining, hotch trying to act like he's not madly in love with reader

wc: 3.3k

Hotch wasn't sure why he'd expected your house to be normal. He chalked up his misjudgment on the haze of old injuries, the kind of logic that gets muddled when you've bled out on too many occasions. Because standing on your porch, staring at the pale pink door with a glittering Home Sweet Home sign dangling from the handle, he realized how spectacularly wrong he'd been.

It suited you, he realized. He could almost picture you hanging it there, humming to yourself and adjusting it three times before deciding it was just right.

It wasn't a social call. At least, that's what Hotch told himself repeatedly, as though the words might drown out the irrational knot of worry in his stomach. You hadn't answered your phone all day, and that was strange for you. It was your day off, yes, but normally you were over-communicative to a fault, texting emojis when a simple yes would have sufficed, or leaving voicemail messages that somehow turned into tangents about your neighbor's cat, your favorite polish color, or the iced coffee you'd spilled that morning.

But today? Nothing. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

His rational mind told him you were fine. Phones die, phones get left behind, people turn them off to take a break. But when it came to you, the rational part of him always seemed to lose ground to the side of him he didn't care to admit existed—the side that careful just a little bit more than he should have.

He knocked.

After a second, he heard the unmistakable sound of your voice yelling a muffled coming!

The door opened, and there you stood, wearing something that could only be called pajamas by the loosest of definitions—shorts that left far too much skin exposed and a matching top that hugged your chest like it was afraid to let go. Your hair was loose and slightly messy, framing your face, and your bare feet peeked out from under the door.

"Oh!" You froze and looked at him like he had fallen from the sky. "Hotch! What are you doing here?"

Hotch cleared his throat and he tried, tried, to keep his eyes glued to your face. It was harder than it should have been—his brain wasn't helping, already memorizing every detail of your appearance that he knew he shouldn't have noticed.

"Do you always answer the door like this?"

"Like what?"

"Dressed like..." He hesitated, jaw clenching as he searched his vocabulary for a word that wouldn't sound entirely inappropriate. "Dressing like that. Without knowing who is on the other side."

"Hotch," you said, smiling slightly. "I could tell it wasn't a stranger."

"How?" he asked flatly, raising a brow. "Because if you tell me it was a feeling, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

"So what are you doing here?"

You ignored him, smiling innocently as though he hadn't spoken at all.

He almost started to lecture you—about answering doors, about caution, about everything—but the words died before they reached his tongue. You were fine. Perfectly fine. Not injured, not in danger, not lying in a hospital bed or worse—just standing there, unharmed, while he tried to shake off the residual tension of imaging all of the worst-case scenarios he'd been wrestling with the past hour.

"You weren't answering your phone." His voice came out sharper than he meant, but he didn't correct it.

You stared at him before letting out an incredulous laugh. "Okay, but like... that's usually not cause for a wellness check."

"It's unusual for you."

His own voice sounded defensive in his ears, and he winced inwardly.

Your lips shot upwards as if you had discovered his game, leaning on the door frame with your arms crossed. "Aw, were you worried about me, bossman?"

His response didn't come as quickly as it usually did, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to decipher something. "I needed to confirm something about the case report."

"Sure, you did." You tilted your head, smile widening as you let the words linger. "Well, since you're already here, might as well come in. I'd hate for you to leave empty-handed."

Hotch hesitated. The professional part of him—the one that lived and breathed protocol—told him to stay outside, finish his excuse, and leave. Normally, he wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes to an invitation like this. He'd done it for Morgan, for Emily, even Spencer without a second thought. But this wasn't them. This was you. But then you gave him that look— raised eyebrows, half a grin, daring him to prove you wrong—and against better judgment, he stepped inside.

The inside of your house was... well, it was you.

It wasn't messy, but it wasn't neat either. It was softer than he expected. Fluffy throw blankets over the couch with heart shaped pillows. On the coffee table, a collection of framed photos—pictures of you with friends, family, and even what looked to be an embarrassing prom photo.

"So?" You moved across the room, draping yourself onto the arm of the couch like a cat in the sun, one leg swinging lazily. "What's the big emergency, Hotchner?"

"I told you," he replied, squinting his eyes at you as if that would somehow change your attitude. It wouldn't. He knew from experience. "The case report. You stapled the wrong attachment to it. I need to know where the correct file is."

"Uh-huh," you said, squinting your own eyes back as if to mock him. "And this couldn't just wait until the morning? You sure you didn't just miss me?"

His brow furrowed. "Why would I--"

You were on your feet in an instant, wagging a finger at him like he'd crossed a sacred line. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Hotchner!"

He blinked, staring at you like you'd just started reciting Shakespeare for no reason.

"You'll hurt my feelings," you said matter-of-factly. "And then I'll have no choice to pout. You'll feel guilty, you always do. And to make it up to me, you'll bring coffee tomorrow. So honestly, let's just skip all that and pretend you never wanted to finish that sentence."

He exhaled through his nose. "I was going to say, why would I miss you when I see you nearly every day?"

"Good." The smile was back on your face in a way that, annoyingly, made him feel better. "Because it's my day off, and you're forbidden from being mean to me on my day off."

"Are you implying I'm mean to you on your regular days?"

You tapped your chin as if seriously considering it. "Not mean, exactly... maybe a little grumpy sometimes."

Hotch huffed. "I'm grumpy with you?"

"Sometimes," you said with a shrug. "But it's okay. I like all your sides—even the grumpy one."

"I'm not grumpy with you," he replied, shaking his head. "If anything, I'm nicer to you than I should be."

"You big softie."

Hotch felt his lips twitch, and he hated how much effort it took to keep from smiling. He was not a soft person. He wasn't the type to let people get under his skin, and yet here you were managing to do it with a single sentence. Worse, he didn't exactly dislike it. In fact, it felt... oddly welcome.

It was different from how you were at work—though, in fairness, you weren't exactly buttoned-up in the office, either.

"Did you make those?" He glanced briefly at the tray of cookies in the kitchen.

Your face lit up and you practically bounded over to the counter, grabbing the tray and holding it up like a trophy. "Yep! Chocolate chip. Want one?"

Hotch hesitated for a second, then followed you into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the space despite himself. He didn't mean to do it—it wasn't intentional—but the part of him trained to notice every detail, every inconsistency, was already at work. Old habits die hard, or something like that.

The kitchen suited you. Soft pastel hues and floral details everywhere. Pink pots and pans hung along the wall, a lace-trimmed over mitt dangling from a hook shaped like a star. Fresh flowers—peonies or roses—he wasn't sure, sat in a vase on the counter.

He shook his head, trying—and failing—to shut off that instinct to analyze. But it was almost automatic, his mind piecing things together, like the organization of the baking tools and the open cookbook, pages slightly smudged.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna grab one?"

He looked at you, then at the cookies, and finally took one with a small nod of thanks. "You bake often?"

He didn't really need to ask—you felt far too comfortable in this space for the answer to be anything but yes.

"Oh, all the time," you said, turning to put the tray back down. "It's, like, my stress reliever. Plus, it makes the house smell amazing. Not that I'm, like, stressed or anything--just saying. It's a hobby. A cute hobby."

He bit into the cookie, ignoring the sweetness for a second as he glanced around again. The pink gingham tablecloth on the island, the mugs arranged by color.

"Anything else you need? Or can I get back to my cookies and reality TV?"

He glanced toward the TV, where some kind of dramatic argument was unfolding on screen, and then back to you. "You should charge your phone."

"Yes, Daddy," you said, before going stiff. "No! I didn’t mean—like—not that Daddy. Just… regular Dad."

His body went rigid, his jaw tightening as he forced himself not to react, shoving the thought out of his mind before it could take hold.

"Right," he said finally, voice rougher than usual. "Charge your phone."

Hotch stepped toward the door, his hand already reaching for the handle when your voice stopped him.

"No, Hotch's don't leave!"  you said, your voice dipping into a whine that should've been annoying. "I'm bored!"

Keep word—should.

He turned back, brows lifted. "Bored?"

"Yes, bored," you said, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "I've already watched two hours of reality TV, ate like, five cookies, and had an entire conversation with myself while I folded laundry. And now you're here, and I haven't had company in forever, and you're just gonna leave me all alone?"

“Forever,” he repeated dryly. “So the 24 hours since I saw you at work?”

"That doesn't count. Work doesn't count as, like, real social interaction. It's work."

He gave you a look—one of those deadpan, unreadable stares that was meant to shut down further argument. That obviously didn't work.

"You're really going to leave me all alone? In my time of need? I thought you cared about me, Hotch."

"You're not in your time of need."

"Emotionally, I am," you said, crossing your arms and leaning back like you’d just made the world’s most convincing argument. "Please, Aaron? Just hang out with me for a little bit. One show. It'll make my whole day."

The way you said his name—Aaron—hit him in a way that felt decidedly too intimate, too casual, too... something. He clenched his jaw briefly, trying to shake off the sensation as he shot you another look.

"Since when do you call me that?"

"Since now," you replied with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It suits you."

His brows furrowed. "It's my name."

"Exactly," you said, leaning forward. "We're not at work. You came into my house. It's all casual here. You're Aaron now. Just go with it."

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

"It does now," you said, patting the couch beside you. "So, Aaron, are you gonna sit down? Just ten minutes."

With a reluctant sigh, he lowered himself onto the couch, his posture still stiff.

"Wow," you said, scooting so close that your thigh pressed against his. "I didn't think that was actually going to work."

You leaned across the coffee table to grab a blanket, shorts riding up with the motion. Hotch's eyes darted away immediately, landing on the far corner of the room as though it held something deeply fascinating.

His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh, nails pressing into his palm. His knuckles whitened slightly as he tried to force his thoughts back into neutral territory, focusing on his breathing instead of the shape of your ass.

By the time you turned back, oblivious, and tossed the blanket over both of you, he'd managed to school his face into its usual unreadable expression—though he couldn't quite fix the pressure building in his chest.

"So," you began, holding up the remote, "what's it gonna be? Reality TV? A baking show? Or, oh, those ones where they renovate houses, but everything goes horribly wrong."

"You pick." He shifted, trying to put even an inch more space between you, but you didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with tucking the blanket around you both.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get hooked. I'm just saying, this stuff is addictive."

He leaned back shaking his, but his focus never really landed on the TV. Instead, it stayed on you—laughing at the wrong moments, gasping dramatically at plot twists, and making snarky commentary under your breath.

"You know," you said suddenly, glancing over at him with a sly smile, "you're kind of cute when you're pretending to relax."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked, though the lack of bite in his tone made it sound almost too fond.

"Nope," you said cheerfully, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “Consider it part of the package.”

Hotch didn't respond, his attention shifting back to the screen—or at least, that's what he told himself. But as the minutes stretched into fifteen, then twenty, he realized he wasn't in any hurry to leave.

You fell asleep thirty minutes later.

Hotch wasn't surprised. Between the pile of blankets, you'd wrapped yourself in and the way you'd curled up on the couch like it was your safe haven, it was a miracle you'd lasted that long. He'd noticed your eyelids drooping about five minutes earlier, your commentary fading into soft hums of acknowledgment as you sank deeper into the cushions.

The room was quiet now except for the sound of the TV. He shifted in his seat, glancing over at you. You were entirely still, your breathing slow. Your hair had fallen across your face, and the blanket had slipped off your shoulder, leaving your tank top askew.

It was weird, seeing you like this. You, who were always moving and talking and saying things he never really knew how to respond to. Now you looked so soft, completely oblivious to how much space you were taking up in his head. 

He told himself to leave. Just slip out, lock the door, and let you sleep. That would’ve been the smart thing. The right thing. But he didn’t. Maybe it was the thought of you waking up, groggy and alone, wondering where he’d gone. Or maybe it was the realization that you were still his responsibility, even outside of work.

He leaned forward reluctantly, one hand brushing the blanket back over your shoulder. He told himself it was just a gentlemanly gesture, the kind anyone would do, but the second his fingers grazed you, he froze.

You murmured something under your breath, unintelligible really, your head shifting as you face turned toward him. He snatched his hand back like he'd touched something scalding. 

"Come on," he muttered under his breath. He slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you easily.

Your head fell against his shoulder the second he straightened. He swallowed. Your bedroom. Where was it? He glanced down the hall. Left or right? The door slightly ajar felt like the most obvious choice, and sure enough, when he nudged it open with his foot, he found himself standing right where he anticipated.

Pinks, florals, lace-trimmed, well, everything. The bed was covered in more pillows than he could count in every possible shade of pastel. It smelled like you—roses and vanilla, with something sweeter lingering underneath, like sugar from a bakery.

But then his eyes snagged on the rack of nightgowns against the far wall, like it wasn't about to cause an existential crisis. 

Lace. Sheer. Satin.

He shouldn't be looking at them. He knew he shouldn't be looking at them, and yet... he couldn't stop. The imagine of you wearing one slipped into his mind before he could stop it. That was a problem—he could see you in them, and now he had to wrestle with that mental image while pretending to be a gentleman.

He bit down on the inside of his check, hard enough to sting, and forced himself to look back at the bed. This wasn’t the time—or the place—for thoughts like that. Hell, there wasn’t ever a time for them. 

He eased you onto the mattress, his hands far softer than he thought himself capable of. He straightened, watching as you instinctively curled into the covers, your hair fanning across the pillow like some picture-perfect cliché.

Then you stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. 

"Hotch?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

You blinked slowly, gaze still hazy. "You're still here?"

"I didn't want to leave you on the couch. You looked too uncomfortable."

Your lips curved into a small, sleepy smile as you sank back into the pillows. "That's... sweet. I didn't think you did stuff like that."

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Your smile widened lazily, your half-lidded eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mysterious and chivalrous. You’re gonna ruin my whole perception of you.”

"Sleep," he said firmly, though there was no real heat behind the command.

Your gaze shifted past him, landing on the rack against the wall.

"Did you see those?" you asked. He hesitated—too long for it to go unnoticed—and your grin turned sly. "You did see them, didn't you?"

"They're hard to miss," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral.

"Bet you weren't expecting that, huh?" you teased, leaning your head against the pillow. “So? Thoughts?”

"I think," he said evenly, "you ask too many questions when you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You laughed softly, the sound trailing off like a dream. “You’re dodging, Aaron. I didn’t know you could dodge.”

He sighed, stepping back as though the distance might save him. "You're good at this."

"Good at what?"

"Pushing buttons," he replied. “You’re a natural.”

"And yet, you're still here."

He didn't have the words for that. Because you were right, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your body slackening into the bed, and he thought you were asleep.

Then you spoke again, quieter this time, as if testing the words before committing to them. “Why’d you really come here?”

He stilled. "I told you. You weren't answering your phone. The case report."

The explanation felt flimsy, even to him, and he hated how obvious it sounded.

"That's not it," you whispered, your eyes still closed. "You could've just waited until tomorrow. You didn't have to check on me. But you did."

Hotch didn’t move, his breath catching as he studied you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, gave no indication whether you knew what kind of mess you were making of him in that moment.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, the faintest hint of a smile brushing your lips. "I think I like it when you worry about me. Feels nice."

You didn’t say anything else, your breathing softening as sleep took over again.

Hotch stayed where he was, rooted to the spot. Your words replayed like a deadly loop in his head.

He finally tore his gaze away, stepping back and slipping out of the room with careful movements. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could, but even then, the sound felt too loud.

For a second, he lingered in the hallway, staring at door like it might offer him some form of an answer. He'd drawn a line with you a thousand times in his head, a boundary he vowed not to cross. And yet, like you said, he was still here, standing in your home.

He shook his head and turned toward the front door. He wouldn't cross the line—but gods help him, staying on the right side of it felt harder every time.

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[i-cant-sing]

To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

-

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

-

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

-

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

[shorthaltsjester]

listen. unless a character explicitly states that a difference in lifespan between them and someone they care about is a concern of their’s, lifespan angst is the most boring and meaningless trope you can add to a fic/fan work. like, yes it is sad to lose someone but that is not because of a difference in lifespan. an elf with 1000+ year life expectancy might die tomorrow, a goliath might live longer than expected. it feels extremely reductive to look at characters with different fantasy races and decide that the biggest concern is that one will outlive the other when those characters have expressed no concern about either outliving or leaving their loved ones behind. like, i get the fear of death and trying to understand that through fictional characters but just do it with the ones who have expressed an actual concern with it, not with characters who seem delighted to get to love someone at all, even if it is brief and mortal. we don’t love people because we think it will be forever, and it hurts when the impermanence of the people we love becomes clear. but if i spent as much time factoring together matters of health and life expectancy for the people i love to try to predict when they’ll die so that i’ll be ready to lose them, i would have a lot less time to love them and it will still hurt just as much when they are no longer around.