#this is a rare case of determination and following through

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

boy have i come a long way from crying over Sprawlopolis on cold November nights

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

V. The Council

Hi, guys I did some research on Rome, and they don't use the word princess. instead, they use rarely: filia regis so I mentioned in the story. But I will use the princess word to make it easier. I will make Geta softer than he looks in the trailers, but not much obviously. In history Caracalla kills Geta so I am writing my fic according to real history places, and tradition, events. if you have any advice let me know, thank you for all your support, so enjoy the episode...

Si scio quid sit amor, propter te est.

If I know what love is, it is because of you. H.B.

Road…

The streets of Rome were fairly tranquil at night, in comparison to the bustling activity that characterizes the city during the day. It was particularly the case with the roads leading out of the city and into more remote areas. The general's villa was situated on one of these remote roads, and it was a somewhat lengthy journey to reach the city on foot. It might have been a good idea to use a horse or cart to traverse this road. But you were determined to continue on your journey, despite the discomfort you felt. You voiced your concerns to yourself and even considered turning back. You would have been pleased to rest in Marcus' bed, next to his warm body, his strong arms.  Yet, you were worried that you might regret not going ahead with your plan if you didn't do it. Even though you had these concerns, you decided to keep walking. As you got closer to the entrance to the big city, you suddenly noticed what sounded to be footsteps behind you.

You were reluctant to turn your head to see what was happening because a shiver ran through your whole body. It was as if the darkness of the night, which had been your friend a moment ago, had now become your enemy. Sounds, shadows and endless dirt roads were now his companions. When you started running, your legs were not as strong as you had hoped, and you experienced more discomfort than you had anticipated. Nevertheless, you ran with all your strength to reach the stone roads.

Subsequently, upon noticing your breathing becoming more rapid, you decided to take a moment to catch your breath. You were somewhat surprised but grateful when you realised that you were no longer being followed. Upon reaching the stone streets, you were somewhat reassured, but on the other hand, you felt a pang of sadness because you were further away from Marcus. The morning was fast approaching, with dawn on the horizon. From your observation point at the foot of the Venus statue in one corner of the street, you were clinging to the marble at the very end of the column and looking at the city panorama ahead, attempting to calculate the direction of Palatine Hill. The Colosseum is in a great spot, right in the center and visible from all sides. It's a bit of a landmark. So, it made sense to adjust the route to go forward and to the right. You still had a way to go, so you kept walking. You never expected it to be so difficult.

It's particularly when you're passing through these streets, places you've passed before, that your memories start to haunt you. It's as if these streets, which you used to pass by horse and cart, have now turned against you, becoming your enemy's friend. After a few quiet, dark streets, you stopped to rest under the triumphal arch. As you drove under the arch, you noticed something you hadn't seen before and were surprised.

The colossal statue of a former emperor that you had seen it before, but you hadn't had a chance to look at the inscription.

‘Imperator Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus’

Your knees gave way, and you found yourself unable to stand. The stone pavements felt cold against your skin, but you remained still. As you gazed at the statue of your father, you found yourself thinking that perhaps things might have turned out differently if he had been there with you. You had never had the opportunity to witness first-hand what kind of an emperor he was, but from what you had heard, he had been quite successful. You spoke to him, your gaze fixed on his stone eyes, and wished he had heard you: “Father, my lord, I have made my decision. I have been thinking since I learnt about the letter. I came here even though you warned me, even though I knew it would be hard. My heart hurts, father, but I am not afraid. I met love, and I am not going to lose it. I love him so much. I know you hear me, and I know you understand. I am not angry with you. In fact, I am grateful. I met my brothers. You were right about Caracalla. Provide guidance on Geta. I saved him, Father, and I'm ready to face whatever comes next. I know you're with the Gods now, so I'm asking you to help me. I'll do whatever it takes for Rome. Open my eyes and ears, give me strength.”

You wiped away your tears and remained in a seated position for a period of time. However, when the cold became unbearable, you began to shiver. Before standing, you heard the distant cry of a horse, followed by the sound of hooves striking the ground. You wrapped your cloak around yourself tightly, burying your hair and face within it. The sound of hooves echoing in the silence of the night only served to heighten your nervousness.

As the horse drew nearer, you became aware of a slight tremor in the ground beneath your feet, caused by the horse's hooves striking it. You turned your head and observed a man who clothed in a dark cloak.

'My lady,' he greeted you.

When you looked at him, you felt a little surprised and perhaps a little uneasy, and said nothing. He opened his cloak and jumped down from his horse and approached you, still holding on to his horse's harness. The horse snorted noisily and you involuntarily took a few steps back.

"It is imperative that you come with me, as the situation is too perilous for you to remain here at this hour.”

"Who are you that I should agree to accompany you? Was it you who followed me previously?”

He bowed his head and replied, "Yes, my lady. I am a slave of Master Macrinus and I must take you to him."

You narrowed your eyes. ”What if I decline your offer?”

The man laughed, 'He thought you would say that. He said if she doesn't want to come, bring her by force, before she does something to hurt herself. Don’t let her to do, so.’

It was your time to laugh, 'How thoughtful of him. Tell him I appreciate the advice, but I have somewhere else to be right now.’

As soon as you turned around, you heard him coming towards you.

“My lady, I have to do as I'm told,” he said, coming up quickly behind you and grabbing your wrist. You tried to pull back with all your strength, but he was too strong. When he got close, you had a chance to get a good look at him. He had a very muscular and large body, which reminded you of warriors fighting in the Colosseum.

“Let go of my arm!” you cried.

But he had no intention of letting go, his strong hand locked around your wrist as if you were chained.

As he drew you closer to his horse, you heard another horse neighed from down the street, followed by a voice you recognised from before. It was a voice you would not forget, even if you were dead, a voice you felt your ears were made to hear.

The general spurred his black horse into a halt in front of you two. The horse reared under him and uttered a cry. He leapt down from the horse with one swift movement, his face as angry as ever, his eyes fixed on the other man. The general seized the man's hand that was gripping your wrist, pulled it and pushed with such force that the man staggered backwards. But he seemed to be angry too, and quickly regained his composure.

“How dare you lay a hand on her? State yourself, who are you?”

The General moved in front of you, taking charge and protecting you. You were relieved to see him. From behind, he appears to be dressed only in his tunic and cloak. It seems he may have left in a hurry, perhaps he was so worried, you wondered if he had opened the letter yet or not.

"General Acacius, Master Macrinus has given me a mission. I will complete it.”

"Macrinus? I just remember where I saw you before. Tell him I am Marcus Acacius, and I will prevent you from completing your mission.”

The man frowned and tensed as one hand went to the sheath of the sword at his waist. He was not afraid of the General at all.

"Marcus," you gently grasped his cloak and gave it a slight tug. He did not turn to you, still glaring at the man.

"Macrinus would like to take me to the council meeting, I believe he wants to ensure my safety until then. I apologise for not telling you before, I hope you can forgive me.”

Acacius turned his head and looked at you. His eyes conveyed a multitude of emotions, including anger, frustration, and longing.

"Nevertheless, I am unable to allow you to accompany him. I will take you to the meeting if that is your desire."

"No, the emperors may think you've been hiding me all this time. I won't let this happen to you because of me."

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, as if trying to suppress his anger.

“Don't you realize how much I care about you? They've already seen you with me, so I'm prepared to face whatever consequences may result.”

You frowned. "I would never want to cause any damage to your reputation."

"Is that why you decided to leave me? What exactly you were planning, I wonder?”

You bit your bottom lip. “To go to Geta and tell him everything.”

Acacius' eyes flashed with anger. “I'm hoping you're joking right now.”

“He said he owed me, I thought he'd understand.”

“Do you really think he's as pure and kind-hearted as you? How can you be so reckless?”

"Perhaps he'll reconsider when I tell him I'm his sister.”

Acacius shook his head, “Wrong. He won't. He'll kill you on the spot, I'm sure of it.”

You were fairly certain that what he said was true, but you still had the inclination to believe it wasn't. Then, two more riders came down the street towards you and dismounted next to the other man. The General immediately sensed a potential threat and pulled you behind him for protection.

Macrinus knew exactly what he was doing and he was determined to see it through.

It is probable that his slave felt emboldened by the arrival of the other men, as evidenced by his demeanor, which shifted from apprehension to confidence.

"General, I advise you not to cause us any trouble. We're taking the lady with us.”

Acacius drew his sword and looked at them with a glint in his eye, ready for whoever or whatever was about to come at him.

"I dare you to try.”

They seemed to hesitate at first, looking at each other, then drew their swords, the tension rising. You swallowed hard.

"Three against one. I heard you were a good soldier, but you don't stand a chance against three of us." He smiled, but it seemed a little cruelly.

"You must have misheard then. I've killed more when I was in a worse situation." His voice was threatening, making the other person uneasy.

"Indeed, I had the opportunity to observe it at the Colosseum. However, we also fought there, so it would be unwise to underestimate us."

They fought there? At the Colosseum? Gladiators?

You had observed the combatants in action during your time there; you had witnessed it first-hand, with your own eyes, and it sent a chill down your spine.

You moved in front of the general, who was still pointing his sword at the others.

“Marcus, you need to let me go with them.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please, hear me out, the council meeting is just around the corner, he can't do anything to me, he needs me.”

You grasped his other hand tightly with both hands and looked into his eyes.

“Please, I ask you to trust me.”

“He's the one I don't trust.”

“I know. I don't trust him either but I need to find out what his intention is before the meeting.”

Marcus looked at you for a moment, considering your words. Then he sheathed his sword. "Very well. You're right.”

The others seemed relieved, but they tried not to show it.

"A wise choice, General," the man said, his voice firm and his gaze steady. He gestured for the others to put their swords back, then approached you with purpose.

"Come with me, my lady," he held out his hand to you and the general caught it in mid-air.

"Who gave you permission to touch her?"

He pushed his hand away and grabbed your wrist. "I will be accompanying her.”

The man laughed and looked at you with disdain. "As you wish. That's fine by me."

As he walked away towards his horse, the general turned to you.

"I'm assuming you've ridden a horse before?"

You didn't ride much in Egypt, given that you lived inconspicuously.

"Well, sort of.”

The look on your face made him smile. He pulled you close to his horse. His black horse lifted one leg and just the tip of the hoof touched the ground, snorted heavily. Acacius stroked the horse's back gently. "You should know how lucky you are to be carrying this beautiful woman, Dromos. Be gentle with her.” The horse lets out a soft whinny as a reply, and Acacius smiles.

“Dromos?”

“Yes, I named him that because he runs so fast.”

“I see.You seem to be quite good friends,” you said with a smile. Hesitantly you reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran your fingers through the black of his mane.

“Indeed we are,” he agreed. He placed his hand on the stirrup and held it for you. “Place your foot here and I'll lift you up."

You did as he said, then he put his hand to your waist, lifted you easily and sat you on the thin saddle. When the horse moved, you grabbed onto the horn of the saddle to steady yourself. Then you felt a soreness between your legs but forced yourself to ignore. Acacius quickly climbed on top of the horse and positioned himself right behind you, gripping the reins. You felt safe as you felt his muscular body caressing yours from behind.

“Lead the way,” the General said loudly to the other man, you felt his warm breath just above your ear. The man nodded kicks his horse forward. Acacius gave a gentle pat to Dromos, he neighs, and starts to move faster. Acacius moves a little, closing the gap between you, his arms around you from either side as he holds the reins. Your body shook with the movement of Dromos as he galloped at a moderate speed through the streets of Rome. Your back kept bumping against the General's strong chest, and you even felt his chin in your hair. You gasped. Was he doing it on purpose?

You glanced over at his face and noticed a smile at the corner of his lips, even though his eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m guessing you’re upset with me?" you asked as the General pulled the rein to the right to steer it, top of your shoulder bumping his chest.

"For leaving me in bed and abandoning me?"

"And for not mentioning the letter before."

"That too.”

When you turned to look at him, a few strands of your hair got caught in his beard. The hairs kept flying with the wind, brushing against his face. He seemed pleased with them.‘

"I must admit that I was eager to find out who you are, but this is beyond what I could have imagined. I can understand why you did it, but I'm still hurt. I wish you hadn't left me in bed. You broke my heart.”

You swallowed, “Forgive me, I didn't know what to do. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. Will you let me heal your heart? I'm Medicus, you know?" You blinked your eyes under your long eyelashes, he smiled.

He buried his lips in your flowing hair and whispered in your ear.

"My heart is yours to heal. You don't need to be a medicus for that.”

You smiled as you felt his lips on your cheek, your lips yearning so much to touch his. At that moment, as you rode with him on his horse, you wished that he would take you far away, to a place where no one could find you two, you were willing to give everything for it.

Macrinus’s Villa…

The men on horseback dismounted and led their horses into the courtyard. Acacius gently pulled his horse's reins and rode in a circle, glancing towards the villa. It seemed as though he was hesitating. Soon, Macrinus appeared in the doorway and grasped the bridle to the right, turning it around to face him.

"My lady," he bowed his head and greeted you. "General Acacius?”

Acacius ignored him and dismounted, one hand still clutching his horse's harness.

“Sir Macrinus, have you stationed your slaves outside my villa to keep watch? Or should I say your gladiators?”

Macrinus smirked. “I needed to make sure Lady Aurelia was safe.” He turned his eyes to you.

“I think you can rest assured that it's not something you need to worry about, especially when she's with me.”

“Which is why you must have accompanied her here, I see.”

“Apparently.” Acacius muttered.

“Then let me invite you in,” he gestured with his hand.

Acacius turned to you and held out his hand. “My lady.”

You smiled, initially surprised that he was addressing you with respect for the first time, but then realising how much you liked it. You took his hand and dismounted the horse and allowed yourself to be embraced by his protective arms. He took you gently and lowered you down.

As your feet touched down on the ground, you felt the throbbing return and let out a quiet moan.“Are you alright?” Acacius's voice was worried.

You regarded him with a somewhat hesitant expression. "I'm a little sore from..." You pursed your lips.

Acacius stroked your disheveled hair with his big hand. "I wish I could relieve your soreness.”

You blushed at the memory of witnessing how well his passionate lips worked on your body before.

“I'll take that as a promise for later, General.” You smirked mischievously.

“At your service, my lady,” he grasped your hand gently and kissed it.

As your heart melted in the warmth of his smile, Macrinus watched you from afar, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. He felt something very different. He controlled his expression though and cleared his throat. You and the General looked at him, his warrior slave standing beside him. Acacius held out his hand, offering it to you.

“Shall we?”

Sitting in his garden, you realized that Macrinus' villa was bigger than the General's. The fountain in the center of this big courtyard was rectangular, and in the center was a statue of the queen goddess Salacia, the wife of Neptune, the goddess of the sea and water. She's holding a bucket just above her head and the water is gushing out of it.

The columns ahead were white and straight, half covered with red marble, with ionic protrusions at the corners. They proudly stood among various trees and plants, but this beauty was nothing compared to the Domus Severiana. That palace was magnificent and wonderful.

Although you couldn't see it clearly because it was still dark, you were wondering what kind of flowers were behind the fountain when Macrinus' gladiator slave stood there, blocking your view. You met his gaze and turned to the general, who was standing next to you. He seemed uneasy and reluctant to sit down. His body language showing his tension. You reached out and grasped his hand.

"Would you perhaps like to sit with me?"

"My lady, I believe I will be more comfortable like this," he replied, his eyes on the gladiator who crossed his arms and looking at Macrinus as he approached.

“Apologies, I am expecting an important guest, I wanted to make sure he arrived safely,” he sat down opposite you and crossed his legs. A delighted smile spread across his face.

“I assume you brought the letter with you, my lady?” he said, looking at you.

You glanced at the General, to whom you entrusted the letter. He crossed his arms and looked directly at Macrinus.

“Prior to that, elucidate your intentions regarding the council.”

"I'm going to make sure our lady gets her 'filia regis' (princess) title back and gets what's rightfully hers. You know, general, you were what, twenty? You must have been about that age when Aurelia was born. Septimius gave me the task of taking her away to protect her. He made me promise.”

"I was nineteen," the General stated, his eyes distant as he recalled those days. "And you were the one who made up the lie that she drowned in the river when she was little? You actually took her to Egypt? With that man, Vicius."

He turned his head to look at you, to see your expression. You felt sad when you remembered him, but you gave the general a half-smile anyway.

“There were three hundred days of mourning throughout the empire,” Macrinus gave you a half smile. “Then it was forgotten when it was time for Caracalla's fifth birthday, but the people of Rome must still remember their princess. The year you were born was a very prosperous one, the fields were full of new crops, there were hardly any beggars in the streets.”

A soft smile spread across Acacius' face, you wondered why, but you didn't feel comfortable to ask when Macrinus around.

“Wine,” Macrinus ordered one of the other slaves. “My lady, please eat something,” he said, indicating the food on the table. “You need to gather your strength.” Then he looked at Acacius who shook his head. “I should head out to dress properly for the Council,” he said and turned to you and got down on his knees. "My Lady, I will be ready to provide any assistance you may require at the council today."

“No, General, I cannot allow you to do that.”

He looked confused.

"Perhaps it would be better if I said that I've kept my name a secret from you.”

“They've already seen us together,” he protested. “I don't think they'll care about that.”

"Lady Aurelia is right, General. It would not be good for you to make your side clear, at least from Geta's point of view. Half the council already knows everything and we have the upper hand."

"Marcus, please," you grabbed his big hand with both of yours. "I don't want you to stay in the middle of this.”

He took both your hands in his, his beard brushing against your skin. "As you wish. but know that if things don't go our way, I will do my utmost to ensure your safety." He kissed you gently on the top of your hands and stood up. "I will see you at the Council then." He nodded and left the courtyard. With his leaving, you felt abandoned, out of place.

Macrinus' gladiator-slave accompanied the general out into the courtyard and returned a moment later. As his eyes met yours, you turned your head.

“I wonder why you keep gladiators as slaves in your villa?”

Macrinus smiled, shaking the wine glass in his hand, “Choosing gladiators is an art, they often become prisoners of war, just like other slaves.”

“So you buy them, train them and put them in fights,” you looked at the gladiator without turning your head. "What is the return on investment of this strategy? Is this the best way to gain the trust of the emperors, by providing entertainment?”

Macrinus laughed. “My lady, you have the right angle, but I don't think you see the whole picture. Perhaps you could save your thinking skills for the council, as it is almost time. My slaves will be ready to dress you properly," he said, rising to his feet. "If I may ask, as you still haven't given me the letter."

One of the girl slaves came as you stood up. “The general has the letter, I'm sure he will bring it before the council.”

“I must say, I am rather surprised at the extent of your trust in him.” Macrinus narrowed his eyes.

“I trust him more than anyone,” you said confidently. You couldn't bear to hear him speak unfairly of the General. You took a step back, looking around to avoid making eye contact with him. “Now, where do I get dressed?”

Roman Forum…

The Roman Forum was the centre of day-to-day life in Rome: the site of triumphal processions and elections; the venue for public speeches, criminal trials and gladiatorial matches; and the nucleus of commercial affairs. Here statues and monuments commemorated the city's leaders. This was where the Senate—as well as Republican government itself—began. The Senate House, government offices, tribunals, temples, memorials and statues gradually cluttering the area.

By the time the carriage carrying you and Macrinus arrived, the morning sun was already brightening the streets. The streets were now filled with Romans, spread around, going about their daily routines. This particular street was noticeably more crowded than usual. A considerable number of people had gathered in anticipation of the emperors' attendance at today's significant meeting. Among them were individuals with pending court cases, spectators eager to witness the new gladiators' initial contests, distinguished patricians and their wives, and those in need, who had come with the hope of receiving alms from them. Additionally, there were individuals who were to be dedicated as priestesses to the temple of Vesta and their companions, as well as those with business at the state house and, of course, the esteemed members of the senate and their wives.

Women were allowed to walk around the Roman Forum, but not in the Curia Julia, the senate building. Of course, the empress managed to sneak herself in - to see what was being said behind her sons' backs and what plans were being made - so it was inevitable that no one would pretend to know about it.

Today, Julia Domna managed to get herself into the Curia in the same way, but you couldn't see it because the entrance was too far away. Macrinus got out of the carriage and looked in towards you.

‘My lady, you will have to sit here for a while, you know women are-.’

‘Yes, sir, I know.’

He turned his head and squinted at something in the distance.

‘Acacius,’ he murmured.

Upon hearing his name, your heart began to race with excitement. He was the only person you desired to see at that moment. Macrinus took a step back, and the general's footsteps could be heard just outside the carriage.

"Did you bring the letter, General Acacius?" Macrinus asked.

You stuck your head out, eager to see his face. Cato was beside him, he took your letter out of his leather bag and handed it to Acacius, he handed it to you. You reached for it, and he turned his head to meet your eyes, making you realise how much you had missed him, even in such a short time.

“My Lady, I would like to return this to you.” The General was dressed differently today, in a toga worn on formal occasions. White in colour, it covered almost his entire body, with burgundy stripes around the edges. The shawl was of the same colour and pattern, the sleeves were short so you could see the thick gold bracelets on his arms, it looked perfect and neat.

“I am grateful to you for ensuring its safety,” you said quietly.

Macrinus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should go inside now to start the session."

“Sir Macrinus, you go first.” Acacius said in a detached manner, his eyes locked on you.

“My lady,” he bowed his head, turned around and made his way towards the wide stairs of the Curia.

"Are you feeling a bit nervous?” His voice softened for you.

“A little,” you lied.

He smiled and put his hand on your cheek. “No need to be, you have nothing to worry about. It's your birthright, like every Roman. I think that's the only thing Macrinus and I agree on.”

You touched his hand on your cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know, thank you.”

He tilted his head towards you, almost close enough to touch you with his lips. “I will always be there to protect you, my beautiful lady, no matter what the outcome.” He held your eyes captive for a moment with his eyes, then pulled himself back. He looked ahead, frowning.

“They're here,” he said, squinting.

“Our Emperors!” Someone in the crowd shouted at the top of his lungs.

Your swallowed, feeling your heart began to race. Acacius stroked your hair gently, "There's no need to be so distressed. They can't do anything to you. There are very few people in the Senate who likes them. As much as I don't like him, I have to hand it to him, Macrinus knows what he's doing, almost succeeded in convincing the entire council,’ he said. 'I must go in now, Octavius will accompany you in,' he said, kissing your hand for the last time before leaving. You inhaled deeply while holding the letter in your hand tightly, praying to all the Gods.

Curia Julia…

All councillors were present and awaiting the commencement of the session, with the oldest councillor taking the lead in opening the meeting. The murmurs of the members of the Senate reverberated gently off the walls of the Curia's spacious, high-ceilinged meeting hall. When their names were announced a little later, all the congressmen stood up and showed their greeting as the Emperors entered the hall from the great hall, albeit somewhat reluctantly. They took their seats in the western corner of the round hall, their attire differing from that of the members of the senate in that it was rather more ostentatious and therefore perhaps less appropriate.

The longest-serving member of the council approached the emperors and stood on the ledge in the centre of the hall to offer them his greetings. He surveyed the room with a gesture that seemed to convey a desire to embrace everyone. “What an auspicious day. Many gave their lives so that we could stand here once more, for the sake of an empire, a government with laws.”

All the members applauded him, except the emperors, who seemed bored already. Acacius was in the lowest tribune and sat quite close to them. Many were surprised to see him at the meeting today; he rarely attended, and no one even knew he voted in the elections.

“In honouring them, I would like to mention that we must pay our respects in your presence to General Marcus Justus Acacius, commander of the southern armies, General of the Legio III Augusta and protector of Rome.” he said, raising his hand and pointing to him. “He demonstrated remarkable courage in defending the Rome and is worthy of our respect and gratitude.”

The members started clapping more enthusiastically. They were all chanting the General's name together. Acacius stood up to show his appreciation and then sat back down.

“Senate is now in session. I invite Sir Macrinus here to make his speech.”

As oldest member approached the tribune to take his seat, Macrinus rose from his seat, came to the centre and greeted the emperors and members.

“Your Majesties, esteemed council members. The reason we are gathered here today is not a matter of government or politics. It is a matter concerning our former emperor, Emperor Septimius Severus and his family.” As he extended his hand towards Emperors, Geta turned curiously to Caracalla.

“What is he saying, brother?” he whispered.

Caracalla answered without looking at him. “Patience brother, you’ll understand soon enough.”

“So you knew?”

He did not answer, which made Geta angry and curious.

By the time Octavius came to get you from the carriage, you were pretty bored sitting inside.

“My lady, it's time.”

You nodded and got out of the carriage with his help, taking a quick look around as you walked together through the crowd. The gladiator fights had taken a break, and people were discussing what was happening in the Curia. One of the trials was underway. A man and a woman were crying, as if they had been convicted of some crime you didn't understand. As you made your way up the stairs of the Curia, one after the other behind Octavius, one of the guards at the entrance blocked your path with an outstretched hand. Octavius brushed his arm away with the back of his hand.

"She is no ordinary woman, and the council members are waiting for her."

"Forgive me," he said, stepping back to allow you to pass.

You and Octavius entered a large hall and proceeded between tall, imposing white pillars. After a short while, you heard the voices of several men. Was there a disagreement in the council? Octavius stood near two large, thick pillars and looked in the direction of the sound, raising his hand towards you. "Perhaps we should wait a moment."

As the big iron door swung open, you could hear the voices inside a bit better.

"Are you saying that our sister is alive?"

It was Geta's voice, sounding angry. "Where has she been all this time?"

"As I said, Your Majesty, your sister was sent to Egypt on your father's orders. She wasn't there when I went to find her, but she is here now. Your sister is waiting outside with the letter your father, the Emperor, wrote to her. Shall I bring her here now?"

Macrinus' voice was loud but persuasive.

“Yes, the council wants to see her!” Someone else's voice was louder than his.

The voices that rose and echoed in the great hall were positive, a flicker of nervousness swept through you. Soon, Macrinus appeared in the doorway.

“My lady, remove your cloak, please.”

You did as he said, Octavius held it for you, and you felt a little reassured that he was there.

Macrinus accompanied you into the meeting room, his demeanor somewhat less reassuring than you had hoped. “Walk with a little more confidence, my lady, you will soon be declared 'filia regis’ (princess).”

His confident face was only working in his favor. It had nothing to do with you. You were trying to look ahead as you descended the stairs one by one, the councillors began to murmur, you didn't feel ready to look at them, and soon you heard Caracalla's hysterical laughter, you were startled and looked in the direction of the sound.

He pointed his finger at you. “You! It must be a lame joke!”

Geta was silent, only his eyes locked on you, leaning forward and marveling under his eyebrows. Caracalla stormed out of his seat and came over to Macrinus.

“What does this mean?”

“You told me my sister was coming, but you forgot to tell me who she was?” he scolded him in a low voice.

“It's pure coincidence that you've met her before, Highness.”

He then looked in the direction where the general was sitting, and you had the opportunity to observe him and the others. All the members were dressed in white togas, similar to the general, but with black embroidery around the edges of their clothes. It was a large hall filled with men, and it was somewhat awkward and uncomfortable to be in the middle of them as the only woman.

"She resembles her mother," one individual posited.

“Indeed, she is an exact match, both physically and genetically," another concurred. “Just like in the records.”

A multitude of voices were present, yet your attention was directed towards Caracalla, who directed a finger at the general.

"For how long have you been aware of this, General Acacius?”

“He didn’t know!”

As your voice echoed through the vast hall with a ringing effect among all the male voices, the other voices gradually faded and Caracalla turned to look at you. Then you handed him the letter.

“I got the chance to open it on the day of the ceremony. That's when I found out everything. General Acacius had no idea.”

This time you said it looking at all the council members as your eyes met Acacius. He was staring at Caracalla, looking a bit angry. Geta arose from his seat and approached Caracalla. He took the letter from his hand and read it over, then looked at you.

“Why didn't you say anything that day?”

"I was planning to," you replied. "I was uncertain of your reaction and what you would do," your eyes shifted to Caracalla. Another councillor approached and examined the letter.

“This is the seal of Emperor Septimius Severus,” he said, looking at the other members. Caracalla grasped the letter and held it up. “But a broken seal and a piece of paper which doesn't prove anything.” Geta reached out to take it from him, but he pushed him away with his elbow, tore the letter into pieces and threw it on the floor.

You were filled with anger. "That was the last thing left of my father," your voice was higher than you would have cared to have it be.

Macrinus interjected, "Your Majesty, while I understand your concerns, I believe it would be beneficial to hear the rest of the speech before making a decision.”

“I want to hear it.” Geta sat back in his seat.

Caracalla nodded and reluctantly joined him.

You clenched your fists, looking at the pieces of the letter on the floor, some of them scattered on your sandals. It was hard not to cry, your father's seal lying on the ground like something worthless. How could he be so cruel?

"Sir Macrinus, if I might be so bold, I would like to say a few words before you speak," said the oldest member of the council.

As he stood up and came to stand beside you, the room fell silent. "I was fortunate to have the opportunity to meet Lady Aurelia before she disappeared," he said, looking at you. "Her eyes and hair are similar, and her face has retained a remarkable resemblance. The emperor Septimius affectionately titled to her as 'Aurelia' due to her blonde hair. I am the one who made it official, and I have my signature and seal included in the record book. It is an honor to see you again, Lady Aurelia.” He bowed his head.

"I am truly grateful for your kind assistance, sir.” Your voice broke.

The crowd began to murmur again, with only a few objecting. The general was looking at you with a soft expression, and you smiled back, though you quickly turned your head away to avoid being noticed. Macrinus thanked the elderly member, waited for him to take his seat, and then he turned to the council members.

"I was fortunate to be able to visit Egypt four years ago at the Emperor's request. I went in search of the lady Aurealia, who was residing with Vicius, Septimius' personal medicus. I had a brief encounter with her, but it seemed that she was still unaware of the truth about herself. Vicius was of the opinion that the Emperor had not sent me. Perhaps he considered himself to be more closely aligned with the Emperor than I was. I am still curious as to what the Emperor may have promised him,” he said sarcastically.

“He did a good job of hiding her,” Caracalla said, teasingly.

The crowd found his behaviour amusing and laughter echoed through the great hall. Geta joined in with the laughter. The mood in the hall started to lighten, but you frowned. It wasn't right to disrespect his memory.

“Sir Macrinus, you mentioned seeing the lady Aurelia around four years ago, which is around the time we lost Septimius Severus.” One of the councillors said.

“I know what you're implying, but I've always had the trust of our emperors since they ascended to the throne. I couldn't bring your sister because I returned here as soon as I heard the news of Septimius Severus' death.” He said, looking at him and then back to the emperors. “He gave me a task before he died and told me to get it done. But I'm not the only one. There's someone else he assigned. With your permission, I call consul ordinarius Gaius Septimius Severus Aper here.”

Once more, the great hall was filled with murmuring. Macrinus  turned  towards you. “Your cousin,” he explained. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“I hate him,” Caracalla growled. Geta didn't seem to like him either.

A moment later, Gaius entered the great hall with another letter in his hand, greeted everyone and came over to you. He appeared to be in his thirties, well built but not soldierly, with an attractive but stern face.

“Lady Aurelia, we meet at last,” he said, smiling at you. You nodded, but didn't have anything to say, and were pretty surprised.

“Another letter?” Geta enquired.

“It seems our father has written letters to everyone but us,” Caracalla said, making a face.

They stood up and gave their cousins the kind of hug that was pretty clearly insincere. It was obvious that they didn't get along. Gaius held the letter up for everyone to see.

“I was with my uncle when he wrote this letter, he sealed it in my presence.” Gaius said.

“Before or after you fled to Leptis Magna?” Caracalla asked. Geta burst out laughing.

He ignored them and spoke to the council instead. "Members of the Senate, I break the seal in your presence," he said, and broke the seal of the letter that the father had sealed himself and opened it.

Macrinus asked permission to take the letter and summarised it for the council members.

“It seems that our Emperor has directed Gaius to ensure that upon the eventual return of Lady Aurelia, she will be duly restored to her full birth rights. That makes two of us sir Gaius.” Macrinus and him exchanged looks that made you sure they talked about his before.

“I am privileged to be able to convey greetings from your relatives in Leptis Magna to you. The entire Severan Dynasty salutes you, my lady,” Gaius said, bowing to you. “And of course you, our emperors,” he bowed to them, as a reply Caracalla turned his head in disgust.

Oldest member of council came towards you again with few members beside him.

‘Then, before our emperors and your esteemed councillors, I extend an invitation to all to welcome our filia regis princess Septimia Aurelia Marciana, first of the name, daughter of Emperor Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus and his first wife Paccia Marciana, patroness of Leptis Magna back to her home.” He sang out.

"A very warm welcome back to Lady Aurelia!" someone stood up and said in a cheerful voice.“Welcome back, filia regis Aurelia!” another joined him.

And all the council members repeated in unison.

Geta approached you in a cheerful manner, clapping his hands. “Welcome, I embrace you as my sister," he said, kissing you on the cheek. You were somewhat startled, but you kept your composure, your cheeks blushed. "We must celebrate this," Caracalla said, kissing you on the other cheek, smiling involuntarily. You forced a smile in return, although he still made you feel somewhat nervous.

“My brother is right, we must celebrate!”

All the members were now standing and applauding, their enthusiasm evident in the resounding applause that echoed through the great hall.

"Sir Macrinus, bring the new gladiators to the Domus Severiana tomorrow. I want new games!" Caracalla smiled with joy.

"As you wish, your majesty," he bowed his head.

"But brother, tomorrow is the festival of Saturnalia," Geta whined.

“Well? That's better, it'll add some excitement.”

While they were chatting, you scanned the room, looking for the General among all the men.

Caracalla turned to you. “As our sister, you're supposed to come with us now?”

This was something you hadn't planned. You didn't factor in the idea of living under the same roof with them. Why didn't you think of that before?

Geta stood between you and Caracalla. “Mother must be pretty shaken up, perhaps you could go and find her first, I'll accompany Aurelia, she's a bit wary of you,” he grinned at you and took your arm.

Caracalla smirked. “Fine by me.” But you could tell he was watching you two.

'Come on, sister, there's lots to do.' You were a little surprised by how fast they welcomed you, but you feel grateful somehow.

The council members were all standing and chatting, and although you wanted to go to the general in this crowd and talk to him, you had to put it out of your mind for now. Before Geta pulled you along by the arm and led you out, you looked back at Marcus for the last time and saw that he looked worried. As you descended the stairs of the Curia with Geta, cheers and applause erupted from the crowd outside.

“Emperor Geta!”

Guards surrounded you to protect you, the crowd chanting Geta's name with enthusiasm.

Geta raised his hands high and greeted them. Then he grabbed you by the wrist and raised your arm.

"People of Rome, allow me to introduce you to your filia regis, Lady Aurelia!"

You didn't expect it to happen so soon. The crowd fell silent. Caracalla came running up behind him and grabbed Geta's other arm.“Eager much, brother? We must announce at the festival tomorrow.”

After a brief period of murmuring, the crowd suddenly began clapping and shouting again. You were taken aback when Julia took your other arm. How long had she been there?

"I would like to invite you all to welcome Lady Aurelia!" she sang.

"Welcome Lady Aurelia!" someone shouted loudly and cheerfully.

“Lady Aurelia!”

Just like in the hall, the streets of the Roman Forum began to echo with your name. It was a strange feeling, a bit frightening, exciting, and proud. You weren't used to any of it, but you were born that way, a princess. It will take me a while to get used to it, you thought.

“See? They love her already,” Geta winked at Caracalla, then pushed back the hair that had fallen over your shoulder. “Smile, sister.”

For him it was easy to say, for you it was all so sudden and you would have to adjust to this new situation. As the crowd chanted your names, the general, who had been observing the proceedings from a distance, seemed somewhat displeased that Geta had managed to touch you with such ease.

He hated to see another man touches you, even if it was your half-brother.

"General Acacius, it's been a long time," Gaius came up to him.

"Sir Gaius," the general nodded. "You are correct, I had just been appointed commander of the southern armies when I arrived at Leptis Magna. It must be decades." His eyes were watching you from afar.

"I must say that you played a significant role in the success of the battle there," he said. "I believe our people are still grateful to you." He was also observing you and Geta.

"I believe you stayed there to hide the emperor's letter. I understand why you chose to stay away from the capital," the general's eyes shifted to Caracalla.

"I believe he may view me as a potential threat to the throne, as he has done in the past. However, I believe it is my duty to remain here and complete my mission," he said with conviction.

The general observed Gaius' gaze and perceived that he was focusing it on you.

"I must ensure the safety of Lady Aurelia."

"But perhaps it would be wise to ensure your own safety as well? I believe you may be in more danger than she is.”

Gaius picked up on the hint in his voice. "Sir Macrinus told me a little about your relationship with her. I'm really grateful that you protected her while I was away."

The general stayed silent and waited, obviously sensing Gaius' intentions with his man instincts.

"I'll ask the emperors for her hand in marriage. I'm sure she'll be safer in Leptis Magna. She can't be happy with them – look how uneasy she is with them.”

The general looked tense. "I wasn't aware you were a widow," he said.

"Yes, I got divorced a while ago," he replied with a smile. "I would like to remarry, as a widow, you know what I mean, I guess."

Acacius returned his smile with a disgusted expression. "Could Iask why you believe Lady Aurelia will marry you? I am merely cautioning you in advance, Sir Gaius, because I am convinced that you will be rejected." He smiled wryly at him, then turned his back on him and began to ascend the stairs.

Macrinus approached him as Gaius glared angrily after him." You were right – there is something between those two."

"Don't worry, tomorrow at the festival we'll take the first step to get rid of Acacius once and for all."

Gaius turned to him, looking angry. "How can that be? He's someone everyone respects. He's the biggest obstacle in my way."

He touched his shoulder. ”The gladiators are ready to fight, we just need Majesties’ approval tomorrow. Then Acacius will find himself in the Colosseum, and then we'll get rid of him for good. Then there will be nothing in our way, my friend." He smiled confidently.

Palatine Hill…

As the morning sun shone on the crimson-red roofs of the Domus Severiana, the birds chirped cheerfully and flew around, their songs of joy filling the air. Yesterday was a turning point for you. Things moved pretty quickly, and it was a bit of a challenge to adjust. When you first arrived with your half-brothers last evening, it was a lot easier than you thought it would be. Julia, their mother, was pretty quiet all night, but she didn't react badly to you, which surprised you even more. e. You got the feeling that she could be pretty ruthless, even though she seemed pretty calm. The idea of living in the same house with them wasn't appealing to you. In fact, it made you feel uneasy. Geta was the only one who didn't make you nervous, but you knew he was unpredictable like his mother.

You opened your eyes in your new room and bed, looked around, and closed them again. This room was big and luxurious, much more so than your room in the general's villa. A bit too much, you thought. You pulled the silk bed sheet over your head and sighed deeply. You would give anything to open your eyes to the new day lying next to Marcus, in his arms.

You were no longer a slave, nor a Medicus, nor could you go to his villa as a commoner. It seems that even as a princess, you don't always get to choose. But you missed him so much, his strong arms around you, his sensual lips, all the memories you had in his villa.

A gentle knock at the door momentarily distracted you from your thoughts, which seemed to fade into the elegant surroundings of this splendid room.

"Please come in," you said, sitting up in bed.

A young slave girl entered the room.

"My lady, I am pleased to see you are awake," she said, her voice conveying a sense of concern.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, it's about Emperor Geta."

You removed the bedclothes around you and got out of the large bed.

“What happened to him?”

“He asked me to take you to him quietly, he doesn't want the Empress to hear.”

‘Hear what?’

‘He seems a little unwell.’

‘Take me to him,’ you said quickly. You were concerned that the poison might still be present in his body.

You left your room and went into the main hall to leave your chamber. Your room was in the east corner of the other courtyard. They said, it was your mother and father’s chambers when they first married. You strode up the stairs and entered Geta's chambers. It was still early, so the room was quiet. The other slaves looked at you with concern as you approached the door of the room where you had come to heal him the last time. They greeted you and opened the door for you. You were surprised to see a couple of young slaves lying on the floor. Their bodies were naked, which made you blush with shame. It was clear that your brother Geta had a lot of fun last night. There were two girls in Geta's bed, but he was nowhere to be seen. You looked at the latrina (bathroom, toilet) door and heard a coughing sound behind. He should have been there, but you had no intention of finding him naked.

You cleared your throat and called out to him.

“Highness? Geta? Brother?”

There was a brief interlude of laughter, and then he looked up at you through the latrine door.

“I need to get used to this, a woman's voice calling me brother.”

His face was as white as marble.

"Is everything all right? You look a little pale.”

“It's because I started the damn day throwing up.”

You looked down at the wine glasses on the floor and sighed.

"You must have had a lot to drink. You're just recovered, so you need to be careful about alcohol.” As you approached the latrine door, he was coming out, you almost bumped into each other. You quickly backed away and turned around, it was a bit stuffy in there, you moved to open the big window.

Geta looked like a little boy, messy hair and all, far away from an emperor.

"Do you think it's because I didn't drink your herbal thing?" He threw himself into the armchair by the window, covered his face with his arm.

“You didn’t?" You looked at him in shock. “How could you not? You had to drink it all to get better.” You were angry.

“But it tasted like cow dung.” He whined, lifted his arm up, gave you a mocking look. “What, are you scolding me?”

You swallowed. “Your Majesty,” you said suggestively. “You must drink the concoction for your own health.”

“I can't.”

You crossed your arms. “Don't you want to get better?”

“Because of that stupid whore, she broke the bottle. That's what happens when you bring a whore from the whorehouse.”

When you heard that word, you thought of Decima. You faced the fact that you had left her behind while you were dealing with everything.

“Could you make the mixture again? It's a festival day and I want to feel good, I don't want to look unwell especially when I’m with Caracalla.” He mumbled.

“I will, but may I ask something in return?”

“Aha! You don't act like a saint anymore, huh?” He laughed. You ignored his joke, approached him.

“Please, brother, a small favor?” Perhaps it seemed to you that you were looking at him in a pleading way. But to him, it was seductive, though he didn't show that. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, what can I do for my lovely sister? What is it you want, I really wonder?”

You smiled hesitantly. “A platoon of soldiers.”

Geta opened his eyes wide, let out a hearty laugh, stood up, and then laughed again, clapping his hands. You tried to stay calm and wait patiently.

He laughed so hard that the slaves on the floor and the ones in his bed all woke up and quickly left the room.

“You know, you really are an unbelievable woman.” His childish smile spread all over his face. He let out another laugh. Then he crossed his arms. “What are you planning to do with all those soldiers? I am genuinely curious.”

“I'm going to save my friend.”

He put his hand on his chin, thinking, narrowing his eyes.

“Why don't you ask the General Acacius for help? He can do alone what a platoon of soldiers can do.”

“Because he won't like what I'm going to do,” you were sure of it.The mere thought of it made you nervous, so you had to get it done as soon as possible.

Geta laughed again. “Something Acacius wouldn't like, hmm, sounds delicious. The soldiers are at your service, sister.”

Whore House…

In the early morning, the street where the whorehouse was located was not very crowded, even quiet. Compared to other parts of the city, it might have been the quietest place in the mornings, but not today. You had come to this street with a group of ten soldiers with a single purpose. And this time you had the power to do it. Not as Aya, but as Princess Aurelia.

Walking with confidence among the soldiers, not paying attention to the people looking at you. You paused in front of the door, and the soldiers stopped with you. You'd already told the commander what was going to happen. He nodded and kicked the door open. The soldiers scattered inside to make sure you got in safely, the last two entering with you, standing next to you, protecting you.

Juturna, the woman who owned this place, looked like she had just woken up. She was surprised to see the soldiers; her pupils were popping out of their sockets.

Then she saw you and pointed her finger at you.

“You! What the?”

The room where they were holding Decima was upstairs. You ignored Juturna's whine and headed for that room. The soldiers were waiting for you downstairs, and one of them came behind you to protect you. When you stepped in front of the room, you rushed inside. Decima was lying on the bed, her wrists still cuffed with chains. She looked a little weak and hardly looked at you. You were incredibly angry. You grabbed her chain and looked at the soldier.

“Uncuff her!”

The soldier nodded and grabbed the collar of one of the guards who had come after you.

“You heard the lady!”

The guard was frightened, he quickly uncuffed her, and Decima's bruised face lit up with a ray of hope. When she was free, she hugged you.

“Aya, but how?”

“Never mind now, let's get you out of here first.”

You grabbed her arm and led her out of the room. As you made your way downstairs, you heard Juturna's cries.

“Lady you can't do this!” she lunged towards you, but one of the soldiers pushed her back.

“Pay her compensation,” you ordered one of the soldiers. He handed her the pouch full of coins.

“This girl is now my slave, send the necessary papers to the Domus Severiana, and if you have any objections, try the Emperor Geta.”

She swallowed hard, knowing full well that she'd never want to contradict him. You smiled triumphantly as you and Decima walked out of there with the soldiers behind you. Then you stopped suddenly when you saw the general standing next to your carriage.

When did he come?

You led Decima inside the carriage and looked at him. He'd called the commander of the troops to him and was talking to him. He punched him on the chest, but not so hard. Was he scolding him?

As you approached him, the soldier was coming towards you, rubbing his chest where General had hit him.

“The General says we're done here, my lady, if you'll excuse me.” he bowed his head.

“The General is right, you can go,” you said, looking at General.

“You really do whatever you set your mind to, you are so stubborn, my lady.” He muttered.

“How do you know I was here?”

Acacius crossed his arms and squinted at you. “I am the General, remember? All the soldiers in this city are under my command.”

"I see. I understand why you might be upset with me for not asking for help. I thought you could stop me from coming here, so I asked Geta for help."

"I can see that you and your brother Geta are close. I believe he asked you for something in return?”

"I promised to make the herbal concoction to heal him."

"I'd like to hear the real answer."

He smiled, but his eyes were sharp. It was impossible to lie to those eyes.

"Perhaps I told him you wouldn't like it," you said, biting your lower lip.

“This is the answer I'm looking for.”

“I didn’t want you to upset, I’m sorry.”

“It's not something you should be sorry about,” he said, looking at the carriage behind you. “You did it for your friend, I understand.”

Her eyes softened, and he was smiling once more, which prompted you to return his smile.

“I miss you,” you said in a low tone.

"I miss you more, my lady. "There are memories of you all over the villa. Facing those memories makes me sorrowful." His brown eyes were warm. "I find I miss you more when I'm in my room. There are so many reminders of you there," he said, his lips curving in a mischievous smile. He leaned his head towards you, close to your ear. "Especially in my bed." You gasped as his warm breath hit your face, your heart racing.

You almost forgot you were in the middle of the street. You were ready to throw yourself into his arms. You pulled yourself together with his giggling, he must have been amused by your facial expression. You jokingly nudged his muscled arm with your elbow.

"You're pretty shameless, General. Seducing me right here in the middle of the street.”

“Apologies, my lady,” he said, laughing.

"Are you coming to the festival today?”

“Yes, I've been invited and I would like to take this opportunity to talk with the emperors.”

You heard the hint in his voice, but you didn't understand it. His grin made you even more curious. He never smiled when he talked about emperors, so this was weird.

‘What are you going to talk to them about, I wonder?’

Acacius held your hand and looked into your eyes. "If it pleases you, my lady, I will tell them I ask your hand in marriage."

You froze and opened your eyes wide, unsure if you had heard correctly. Acacius smiled and kissed your hand.

“You can give me your answer after the festival. You might want to head out now, as preparations are about to get underway.” He put his arm around you and pulled you towards the carriage.

You looked at him before getting in, “I'll be waiting for you there, Marcus.”

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover

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[mimipolo]

Hey I have a request

Some Nam-gyu x reader where he developed a crush and sneaks of to talk to you at random times even tho you vote opposite of him he can overlook that however when he’s with thanos he’s mean and insults you which shocks and upsets you will you forgive him?

Nam-gyu x reader

I had so much fun writing this ngl, I hope I did the idea justice <33

Sorry Se-mi it's for plot

You had met Nam-gyu and Thanos after the first vote. At the time you felt a small sense of determination that you could make it through the games, get a higher prize and pay off all your debts in one go.

They had praised you excitedly, Thanos slinging an arm around you and going on about how they'd both protect you. You had trusted them for the most part, yes they were both a bit sketchy but they had a prescence among the players so it'd be easier to follow them. You had mixed feelings about the duo, one was always hyper and loved to mess with you and the other had a serious staring problem and a stupid smirk.

At the moment it didn't matter how you felt about them, you needed to get out of here. And now. You had barely survived the last game, knees grazed from when you fell and quickly scrambled to your feet. You wince at the pain as you curl in on yourself and rub your thumb over your bloodied hands. You were desperate for a sense of comfort or solidarity which at the moment only you could provide for yourself.

You were startled to see a head of black hair come out of nowhere from the ladder to your bed, angled eyes meeting yours hazily. Nam-gyu, a rare visitor. You're still startled by his sudden appearance, clutching your chest slightly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"Nam-gyu? What are you-"

"I'm coming up."

You don't get the choice to protest against it, he's already hauling himself up to get on your bunk, sitting cross legged in front of you. For a moment you're genuinely confused to why he's here, your bunk was fairly high off the ground and from how he was earlier you didn't expect him to be capable of climbing. Guess he sobered up. He's sighing softly as he links his fingers together, gazing at you as if in deep thought.

"You're gonna vote "X" next right?" He lifts his head up to see your reaction, clenching his linked fingers when he sees your lips purse as you look away from him. That was enough of an answer.

You personally are terrified, you had never been particularly close with the man and you were tense as to why he decided to make the trek up to your bed to ask you such a question. What's he going to do? Is he angry? Noticing the small shift in your body language he stops spacing out and runs a hand over his face. This sucks, honestly. The small infatuation based of pure curiousity he had for you had developed into a genuine crush he couldn't shake off. You intrigued him to no end and he was just working up to talking to you more.

So why'd this have to happen?

He's not that upset you want to leave, as much as he preached about how everyone should "Play one more game!", He understood the main basis of wanting to leave was the simple passion to live. A passion that'd he'd lost touch with after he lost everything he had. But you were in a similar situation, yet despite that you always seemed slightly hopeful things would work in your favour, and when they didn't you kept a level head. A rationality he wished he also had. You were smart, attractive and worst of all reasonable. Which is why you wanted to leave.

He's still staring at you but you feel less creeped out, you feel more worried. The usual carefree demeanor he had seemed to be crumbling right before you, he almost looked more tense than you.

There was a reason why he had come here, he didn't want to ask in front of Thanos. With him he'd be obligated to maintain this facade of now hating your entire being, but that wasn't the case, in fact it was very far from it. He wanted you like nothing else, selfishly. He could only hope you read him openly from the small amount of vulnerability he'd give you, something you were good at.

"Choose "x", I don't really care."

"Oh."

You are honestly pleasantly surprised by his words, your anxiety lowering massively. With the tensity gone you could see he looked...worried for you? You weren't totally sure but he laughs bitterly, pulling his signature move of pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Just know that, I'll vote to stay. So I'll still be sticking with Thanos."

You looked at him confused, and honestly he was too. There was no need to share all this information with you but he couldn't help it, he wanted to be open with you, show you how he is when you could be alone together.

You jolt slightly when he lightly takes one of the hands you're holding onto and taking them in his own. Streaks of blood crumbling away when he rubbed it away with careful thumbs, you could only watch him silently, admiring his oddly considerate actions. Even if the tint of blood still stained your palms. What's with all this special treatment, did he like you or something?

Before you could question him about what had just happened between you two he's sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together, ready to climb off your bunk.

"I'll try look out for you when I can."

And with that he's gone, you're left to sit with your thoughts and overthink how sweet he was to you just now. He was never like that before. Before you realised it a small smile was on your lips as you savoured the cold, brief moment of his touch still on your hand.

Though the next moment left you quite confused, it was time to vote. Everyone was still conflicted but you had made your choice and had a silent comradery with Nam-gyu. It gave you the bit off confidence to press the "x" button, some cheered while others groaned as you quickly switched your blue patch for its opposing side.

You could hear the familiar deep voice of Thanos going "What the hell man, we agreed one more game??" the direct confrontation made you physically tense as you made your way to side of potential exit. Nam-gyu didn't say a word, didn't even look at you either. Strange, you thought but you mostly brushed it off.

What the hell [Name], we agreed to keep playing, ya just switching on us all of a sudden?"

Thanos' voice echoed in your ears as he had you cornered near your bunk, you glance to Nam-gyu for some sort of support, even if it was just telling his friend to relax but you were quickly disappointed.

"Tch, did you really expect them to stay, I saw 'em practically trembling after the last round."

You felt your heart aches at his words, your expression immediately dimming as you stared at him confused. But unluckily for you he had mastered his poker face to the last detail. If he felt any guilt for what he said you wouldn't know, it was all behind that senile smirk now.

"Kehaha, nah you're right. All those loud sounds scare ya already?"

"Poor thing."

Thanos pushes you back accusingly, forcing your back to meet the unforgiving metal bars of the bunks, just as suddenly he's in your personal space, grabbing the red velcro badge on your chest roughly as he shook you. His eyes dilated widely as he threatened you with crazed, wild eyes.

"You're lucky this is there's a revote, switch this "x" to an "o" or I'll never let you live it down, got it?"

He laughs when you stagger back when he lets you go, Nam-gyu joining in with own mocking chuckle, it hurt you in a way it wouldn't have before. What was all that about earlier then, was it just a lie? But why, he didn't get anything out of it.

And again you're left alone to deal with your own self destructive thoughts, you just wanted to leave this place, it felt like you were suffocating within its walls.

Things ended up more violent than he had expected, he's panting as he rips the fork from the man's neck for the last time. How he felt? Great. It was like some great awakening as he stumbled up to his feet. It's only then he takes the time to digest the fact Thanos is dead, what a sad way to go hm?But also equally as pathetic. He wanted to laugh but he wanted to shout in frustration too. He does neither, looking down at his unpredictable partner in crime now laying on the floor covered in grime and blood. It's when he starts to feel the growing ache in his chest that the guards finally barge in to stop the fighting, forcing them all out the crime scene.

You're on your bunk, cuddled up to yourself as usual when you spot him, bloodied and worn along with other men. Your heart sinks as you take in the situation, watching as they shouted and cursed impurities from both sides. You had switched sides of sleeping arrangements due to the votes, so now you were able to get a slightly lower bunk bed. He shouldn't know where you were and yet his eyes snapped to you, for a moment they crumble slightly, a sliver of the worry he had coming out just for a moment. And then he's walking off, not looking back once.

It's lights out and you were terrified, you had finally found out what had happened in the men's bathroom and you knew it could lead to nothing good. Everywhere you thought to hide felt dangerous and you had no one to rely on, no one to truly trust.

He's shaking, his hands trembling as he sits perched on Thanos' bed, in memory of the annoying guy. He's feeling conflicted, he couldn't tell if he had cared for him or not, all he knew the indifference he felt for others wasn't the same with colourful haired man. He pops two pills in his mouth, brushing his knuckles against his lips as if the action were sacred. Soon thoughts drifted back to you. How were you holding up? Did you have anyone there to protect you? A sick part of him hoped not, he wanted to be the only one to look out for you, the only one you'd think to turn to.

He feels amazing, never felt so resolute in the entirety of the games than when he killed. Hissing in satisfaction as he struck the deadly cutlery into Se-mi's neck for what felt the 100th time. Wiping the blood of his face with the back of his hand when he feels a prescence behind him. He doesn't bother taking back his weapon as he gets up from his crouched position to turn towards the figure.

It's you.

You look absolutely terrified, your upper body was uptight and you could've gotten away with looking less afraid if it wasn't for how your legs trembled ever so slightly. You're fighting with yourself and you finally will your body to run but he's quick, yanking you back by your arm and holding you against him possessively. His breathing is hard and his bloody hands are firm against your back.

Heavy breaths fill your ears as he looks at you with wide shaken eyes, he'd been looking for you, even on this killing spree.

"You asshole, what are you doing are you crazy??"

"Heh- huh, yeah I feel like it a little..." the small chuckle he lets out feels distant from his true feelings and he wished you'd tell him why he's like this.

"You lied, you said you'd look out for me, prick." You want your words to be firm but the fear of everything around you was still so intense, it shook your words and made your throat tight.

"I know, I know alright. I said when I 'can' Thanos would've made things worse for both of us if I said something..."

"But he's not here anymore... I'll watch out for you, for real this time, promise."

Even in his drugged state you could tell these were his thoughts the whole time, and his visit to your bed made slightly more sense, he just wanted you to know he didn't actually hate you. What a weird guy, why not just come out and say what the game plan was? You wanted to ask him all these things, shout and push at him until you got all your frustration out.

But you're drained, there's still the far away screams of new victims being made and you couldn't tell what was side was losing.

But he's shushing you quietly, when you weren't even crying, but now it triggered you to. Hot silent tears running down your face as he huddled you into a corner and made you sit against the wall behind a fallen mattress. Grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered softly.

"Nothings happening to us, we're getting that stupid cash prize and leaving this shitty place."

And then he's off again, you don't know where, but you'll stay here quietly and hope for his quick return.

[themultifandomgal]

Could you do an established relationship jay halstead x petite reader? She’s in the fbi, has a PhD, and is quite young. (She’s like 25-27) She’s shy and pretty innocent. Jay introduces her to the unit. When they meet her they don’t see how she’s an fbi agent. Then the fbi takes over a scene and she’s a total badass. Jay is proud and he’s like that’s my girl.

Jay Halstead- My Girl

I absolutely loved this idea! I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy!

No one knew about Jays girlfriend, in fact everyone thought he was single. So when Jay arrived at Molly’s with a petite woman on his arm, everyone was shocked to say the least, even more so when Will gave her a hug and the pair looked like they have known each other for a while. The noise of conversation and clinking of glasses filled the air as they made their way to a table in the corner. It was a Friday night, a rare occasion for Jay and his colleagues to be out all together.

As they sat down, Erin, his partner, was the first of Jays coworkers to greet the couple

“Im so happy you could come. Who is this lovely lady, Jay?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Jay smiled proudly and replied, "This is YN. My girlfriend. She works for the FBI." YN, who was naturally shy and reserved, gave a polite nod but said nothing. Erin's eyes widened in surprise, she looks over to Jay shock written all over her face

“Oh wow you’ve kept her quiet Jay” Jay just shrugs in response.

Through the evening the drinks flow, but YN continues to stay quiet, just observing the space around her

“So FBI huh? You seem too quiet and innocent for that line of work”

YN simply smiled and shrugged, used to this reaction from people who underestimated her based on her demeanor. She was well aware of her ability to blend in and appear unassuming, a skill that served her well in her line of work. She knew that her quiet nature was one of her greatest assets, allowing her observer others and gather crucial information for her cases. As the night went on YN and Jay finished up the evening and headed off back home.

YN sat in her car, staring at the building in front of her. It’s been 2 weeks since she met Jays coworkers and now she’s been asked to help the intelligence unit with a tough case. She steps out of the car and strode confidently towards the entrance, her gun hidden securely in its holster.

As she entered the building, she was greeted by the sight of her boyfriend Jay and his boss Voight, both standing in the lobby, waiting for her

“YN thank you so much for coming” Voight says holding out his hand. Immediately YN takes his hand in hers, shaking his hand

“No problem, happy to help”

“Please follow us” Voight takes YN to the bullpen where the rest of their coworkers are standing around a bulletin board

“You all remember YN” Jay says first

“She’s joining us on this case” voight tells everyone who greets the girl

“So what do you know so far?” YN says getting straight into the case

“We know that Doms father owned a huge farm down state. When she died Dom inherited 30 million” Antonio hands over the case file to YN who takes a look at all the information at hand “he took out 10 million 2 days before he went missing” YN looks up at the team

“Did anyone actually see him though?”

“Taking the money out?” Jay asks

“At all”

“What are you saying?” Erin frowns

“I dont think he’s missing. Did you get the autopsy report on the mum?”

“No, she died of natural causes” Antonio crosses his arms

“Are you positive on that? I want to see an autopsy report somethings just not adding up”

unwavering, her determination driving her to catch the criminal at any cost.

YN got what she needed, the autopsy report showed that Doms mum did not die of natural causes, in fact she was poisoned slowly over time. YNs theory of dom not being missing made him their first suspect.

As they neared the location where Dom was believed to be hiding, YN's instincts kicked in. With a nod to Jay, she signaled that it was time to make their move.

They burst into the building, guns drawn. YN's training kicked in

“On the floor, now!” YN shouts pointing her gun at Dom “keep your hands where we can see them”

In a matter of moments, Dom was apprehended. Jay and the rest of his team watch the girl they once thought of as quiet become this confident woman. Jay watches on, feeling a sense of pride and love. That’s his girl who he’s extremely proud of.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 1.8 chapter index — next chap. masterlist

one

thursday, january 9th

go where the wind takes me. it’s a phrase you’d heard countless times over the years. it eased people, gave them perspective, helped them loosen up. but you? no, it did the opposite. it made you do what you did best—research. what kind of research? the top 100 most successful people and whether they’d ever "gone with the wind." the answer was no. not a single one. going with the wind doesn’t make anyone successful. it leads to dead ends, wrong turns, wasted time—and time was the one thing no one could afford to squander.

the importance of planning everything as meticulously as possible was something that you'd ingrained in your mind at a young age and it had led you exactly where you were. it was the foundation of everything you’d achieved: top of your class, surrounded by like-minded peers, ready for a prestigious summer program, and just a year away from the university of your dreams. everything you’d worked for was at your fingertips. nothing could get in your way now.

"hi, sandy," you greeted the office secretary who watched you struggling to balance a precarious stack of papers in your arms.

"good morning, sweetheart. need help with that?" sandy asked with a warm smile.

"nope, i’ve got it," you replied, setting the stack on the counter with a satisfying thud. carefully, you aligned the papers before placing your palms on top to steady them.

"these are the documents for the student body audit next week. i printed an extra copy for principal oakley, complete with annotations, just in case there’s any confusion."

"always so thorough," sandy remarked with a grin. the compliment made your entire week.

"ah, just who i needed to see." a familiar voice sounded behind you and you twirled around to see principal oakley walking into the office. "oh, good morning, principal oakley." you said, your tone as polished as ever. you barely glanced at the boy trailing behind him before falling into step with the principal.

and yes, following him into his office was a tad unconventional but someone with as much determination and drive as you rarely let things like "innaproriate behaviour" get in your way.

"you are just who i wanted to see too. i know the holidays just ended but i did want to just follow up on my recommendation letter which you'd think about writing, remember?" you fixed your bag on your shoulder as principal oakley sat at his desk and briefly glanced behind you.

"y/n—" the principal tried to interrupt.

you didn't stop talking. "and i know you don't write recommendation letters for your students to keep things fair and whatnot but i—" principal oakley tried to interrupt again but didn't have the chance before you continued rattling. "—hope you reconsidered because i just know that having your letter under my belt will make me stand out to the admissions board and who am i if not representation for our fine school?"

principal oakley cleared his throat and this time you noticed the brief glance behind you. you slowly followed his gaze to see rafe cameron leaning against the doorframe.

your mental file on him loaded instantly: soccer player, tall, messy, and in your opinion, a bit… ran through. still contemporary philosophy like utilitarianism says the morality of having multiple partners depends on whether it increases overall happiness and minimizes harm so you were in no position to shame anyone just trying to increase their own happiness. you suppose.

"oh, was this a bad time?" you asked sheepishly, stepping aside. "not at all," the principal replied. "in fact, this concerns you as well. please, have a seat—and refrain from going into rants until i'm finished speaking." principal oakley says.

frowning in confusion, you complied. sitting beside rafe, you tried to mask your unease. what could he have to discuss with both you and rafe cameron? you weren't very good with uncertainty so sitting still was becoming a challenge as principal oakley rummaged through his desk.

you had to focus on something to stop yourself from panicking so you focused on him. very discreetly. he was so very..unruly. like something hard to contain, just spilling over the edges with his messy hair, that sweater that was not ironed, the shirt under the sweater that was untucked in that untidy way, that smell—woody with a faint hint of vanilla. you liked that smell.

you looked down at your own clothes—a powder blue ruffle top from khaite that you saved for for months and gifted yourself over winter break, off-white pants that were perfectly ironed and fresh from the laundry, hair in a neat french twist. from first sight, you and him were polar opposites.

"alright, y/n," principal oakley finally sat back down, his gaze steady as you watched him attentively. "you know rafe, right?" he asked, gesturing slightly toward the boy seated across from you. your eyes flicked to rafe, who was already staring at you, his expression unreadable.

"uh-huh," you murmured, turning your focus back to the principal.

"well, rafe here has a little problem." principal oakley slid a paper across the desk, and your curiosity spiked as you glanced down. it was rafe's report card.

it was disastrous.

you gasped softly, and rafe let out a noise of protest. "shit, it's not that bad," he muttered, leaning in close to peer over your shoulder at his own grades. the sudden proximity sent a ripple of awareness through you. despite your best efforts to stay indifferent, the intoxicating mix of his scent and the startling lack of male attention in your life was doing a number on your self-control.

"language, mr. cameron. and yes, it really is that bad," principal oakley said firmly. "which is why we need your help, y/n."

you tried to focus, though every nerve in your body screamed for you to stay perfectly still, afraid rafe would pull back. your intrusive thoughts—chief among them being the absolutely insane urge to bury your head in his neck—were becoming harder to suppress. quickly, you straightened and fixed your attention on the principal.

"my help?" you asked, the words laced with genuine confusion.

"the athletic board won’t let rafe play next season if he doesn’t pass at least one of his failing classes. we’ve discussed it with his teachers, and they believe algebra is his best shot. mr. coleman specifically suggested you for the job. he said your grasp of the material is exceptional, sometimes even surpassing his. your work ethic, dedication, and knowledge are exactly what rafe needs to bring his grade up to a satisfactory six—or, with hope, even a seven or seven and a half."

principal oakley's words hung in the air as you processed them. finally, you blinked slowly. "you want me…" you began cautiously, "to take him from a two-point-five to a seven-point-five in five months?"

"that’s like 150 days," rafe interjected, his tone unexpectedly eager. "we can do this! i’ll be the best student, i swear."

we?

"and on which planet is that 150 days, rafe?" you turned to him, your voice tinged with disbelief. "five months is about 150 days, sure. but i don’t know about you, mr. cameron, but i have class every day from eight to three. we have over 15 assignments a month, tests, midterms in march. i’m student body president. i’m organizing spring fling, pajama day, color war, the bake sale, and the car wash fundraiser—where, by the way, i expect the soccer team’s full, enthusiastic participation in semi-nude form for maximum profit. there’s also valentine’s day card exchanges, college fairs, and, oh, right—i have a life. i need to eat, study, and spend enough time with my friends and family to avoid being accused of neglecting them." you folded your arms. "so tell me, rafe, where in that mess do you see time for this?"

rafe stared at you, slightly wide-eyed.

"exactly," you concluded, crossing your legs. "nowhere."

you turned back to principal oakley. "maybe someone could contact the board and ask for len—"

"y/n, this is their leniency. usually, a two-point-five is an automatic cutoff." principal oakley cut you off, his voice calm but insistent. "i wouldn’t be asking if i didn’t believe in you."

the praise softened you momentarily. "principal oakley," you began, reaching into your bag and pulling out your life planner with a flourish. its heft rattled the pens on his desk. "this is my schedule." flipping to the last pages, you tapped a line with a manicured nail. "rafe, read this."

he leaned in, eyebrows raised. "january 20th, 2056: be sworn in as the 59th president of the country."

you smiled, all proud like you'd already achieved it which you technically had since everything that belonged to you was already yours.

"now, as you can imagine, i have a very rigorous plan in place to achieving my final goal and unfortunately, my schedule is just..airtight until.." you grimaced, "atleast 2061, maybe 2065." you were still debating the second term.

rafe chuckled quietly, and you shot him a glare before principal oakley interrupted.

"i assume my recommendation letter holds a significant place in your 30-year plan."

you hesitated. "…it does."

"well, helping your fellow student would demonstrate the leadership and dedication your university looks for. i could write you a glowing recommendation and even personally contact the dean’s office if you agree to tutor mr. cameron."

you froze, your mind flashing with possibilities. the thought of the dean knowing your name—of shaving years off your plan—was too good to pass up.

"fine," you said at last, exhaling. "but i expect nothing short of perfection in that letter. and the dean better invite me for tea when you’re done."

turning to rafe, you leveled him with a sharp look. "every tuesday and sunday at four. take this seriously, or you’ll see how hostile i can get. and read the chapters beforehand. i’ll text you my address."

you strode toward the door.

"you don’t have my number!" rafe called after you, amusement clear in his voice.

"i practically live in this office, rafe!" you shot back over your shoulder. "i have everyone’s number!"

chapter index — next chap. masterlist

[diejager]

Please, I need a continuation of the story of !kidnapper Krueger and Nikto! Please!!

New Neighbours Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, obsession, non-con touching, condescension, manhandling, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k Boy, it been a fat minute since I wrote that small Drabble.

There was a knock at the door, three blunt and powerful hits of sturdy knuckles shaking your door with how strong - you presumed - the person was. Dropping whatever you were working on, you walked to the door and peering through the peep hole, shocked to see the familiar black and khaki fabrics of your new neighbour. You’ve seen them once or twice in the month between their first move and today, the grizzly look and scarred skin of a brash-toned and brutish man you came to know him as from the few times you met him. He would stare at you, wide, owlish gazes that left you shuddering from the gleam in his brown eyes, a deep-seated darkness as he… appraised you. 

He called himself Sebastian, presenting himself one night when you were stumbling home from a tiring day at work, stopping to help you up the stairs since his door was right across from you. You thought he lived alone, but was surprised to see another man, covered from head to toe in black and army green, hiding any identifiable feather apart from his pale, blue eyes and his broad shoulders, big and bulky even in his skin tight clothes. Sebastian’s roommate had only stared at you, unblinking and unmoving, seconds spent gazing at your anxious and uncomfortable form, messing with your sleeve while Sebastian helped you moved the bags to your kitchen table. 

If you thought Sebastian the weird one, then Nikto - he was spoken for - was the odd one, a fierce man that only knew how to stare silently to upset whatever and whoever he was glaring at. You only saw him once, and that was a blurry and tired view of him from the open doorway across yours when Sebastian was helping you. You had little to go on for him, being more familiar to his roommate and occasionally exchanging a few words when you crossed path —though rarely, the seemingly never left their home.

“Hey, Sebastian,” you tilted your head in greeting, opening your door only wide enough to pop your head out and kept a hand firmly wrapped around the knob in case he did something. You’d always been cautious, and Sebastian and Niktowere suspicious men, “How can I help you?”

“Ja, I need help with something,” his soft, yet brash tone made his accent more apparent, something small but attractive despite your apprehension towards him, “A woman’s touch.”

A woman’s touch? You didn’t know what he meant exactly, but when you looked down to his thick and crooked fingers - perhaps from his work, broken and reset too many times that it started to heal crooked - you could guess what he implied. Your fingers were smaller, lither than his with fat on your knuckles and smaller palms, it made working through small and complex affairs easier. Despite your understanding, you grew uneasy, squinting at him from the safety of your door, but Sebastian was nothing if not determined. So you nodded, excusing yourself to change your clothes from a small top and shorts for a t-shirt and sweatpants before you met him at his entrance, locking your door behind you.

This was your first look into the world they lived in, a bare and minimalist home, scantly decorated apart from the few vests and- was that a gun? And knives littering the kitchen counter with other dangerous items… Seemingly aware of your fright, Sebastian explained how he and Nikto were private contractors, working for a PMC, a private military company, and that they were just on leave, but would always be ready for a call back. Shaking off your paranoia, you followed him deeper into the kitchen, seeing the machinery littered on the table and beside it sat Nikto, ramrod and tense in his seat.

“женщина,” he growled out, his voice so raspy and low that you wondered if it hurt to speak a single word. [Woman]

“Nikto,” you returned, following Sebastian to the table and ignoring Nikto’s wide stare, his vacant eyes and lingering gaze, roving over your body and obsessively admiring you like a hunter would, “Is this what you needed help with?”

Sebastian showed you what he needed, explaining where each small piece went into the box, guiding you around the confusion machinery while Nikto watched, a sentinel in his own flat. You were so engrossed into fixing this small box, brows pinched with concentration get this thing fixed as quick as possible to return to the safety of your apartment, that you missed Nikto’s silent stalk towards you, his broad and silent figure looming over your unsuspecting form until a rough hand gripped your hip. 

You jumped, dropping the box and turned your head to gawk at Nikto, looking back at his - still - vacant eyes and wide and hungry glint. Frowning at him, you sunk your fingers into his hand, trying to move an unmovable wall that pushed himself against you, backing you into the table until he bent you over the now broken box you were first invited to fix. You struggled against Nikto, growling out a warning and clawed at his covered forearms, but it only riled him up. Sebastian stood and watched with a perverted eagerness as Nikto rutted against you, holding you down by the nape, scruffing you like you would a misbehaving dog. 

“Get off me!” You yowled, reaching back with your arms, trying to elbow a man you knew you wouldn’t be able to forcefully remove with how built and big he was, “Get off me, Nikto!”

“Shut up,” you could hear his bared teeth, the cold and condescending tone of his rasp, sliding his knee between your kicking legs, your feet arbitrarily hitting the air, “Stop struggling and listen.”

A low rumble left the man before you, your glare meeting the Austrian who found this situation funny, his chuckle slow and mirthful, finding enjoyment in your useless struggle and hissing. 

“I would listen to him, Schnuckel, ” he lowered himself to show the eagerness in his dark eyes, a cruel smirk curling the corners of his lips and a teasing tilt of his head, “Be good for us, nicht?”

You shouldn’t have accepted to help him, you should have listened to your gut feeling, but you have no one else to blame expect yourself.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[mortem-writes]

1. A Widow's Bite | Simon Riley x Black Widow!Reader

Fic Masterlist- ❋ Read this on Ao3 ❋

Main tags: Innocent reader is accused of being a traitor trope, torture and interrogation, AFAB reader, questionably platonic bed sharing, strangers to lovers, sloooow burn, eventual smut, angst/hurt/comfort, kidfic Chapter word count: 1.8k

>> BUDAPEST-KELETI STATION, HUNGARY

>> November 3rd, 2019

Barkov is dead, and you are running for your life.

The city is busy despite the cold weather, and the awareness that time is running out sits heavy on the edges of your mind.

You surge through the throngs of people, and finally you enter the train station with a sense of trepidation pounding through your veins, but there are no yells, no bullets, only the sound of people bustling about the platform and the rare warmth of a pale winter sun peeking through the high windows. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage, and sweat beads under your collar.

Time seems to slow with every passing second as you wait in line at the ticket office. You can feel your watch leisurely tick against the rabbit-quick pulse at your wrist. You count the seconds. Feel the space between each tick stretch and unspool. You tap your feet to expel the pent-up energy, and you can feel the slim knife you slid into your boot earlier that day shift over your ankle joint with every mindless movement.

Unable to stop throwing furtive glances over your shoulder, you hand over one of your passports to buy a ticket when it is your turn, and then pick at your fingernails absentmindedly. You can't stop your eyes from darting about and scanning the crowd. There's tension stitched into every fibre and every layer of muscle in your body as you expect a hand to clamp down on your wrist or a gunshot to punch through the air or something to happen at any second, but then the ticket officer hands over to you both your passport and your literal ticket to freedom with a tepid smile. You relax— slightly.

You step onto a train heading for Warsaw with nothing but five passports, five identities, and a handgun stashed in your satchel with a bundle of cash.

The train pulls out of the station, gathering speed and, within a handful of minutes, Budapest falls behind with your past entombed within the old city walls.

>> GEORGE BUSH CENTER FOR INTELLIGENCE

>> VIRGINIA, UNITED STATES

>> November 5th, 2019

Barkov is dead, but his legacy is not.

At least not yet.

Despite being determined to rectify that, Laswell feels that either her skull is going to implode into a migraine or her eyes will be rendered useless if she spends any longer staring at beaming bright computer screens, and squinting at various complicated maps littered with minute scribbles and equally minute symbols.

Following the news of Barkov's death, his forces had scattered and his followers all across Russia and Urzikstan had been sent into a frenzy without a leader to guide them. The mayhem has spiralled out of control, and Barkov's bases and facilities are cropping up on the map in the dozens every time a new intelligence report lands on Laswell's desk.

The interns had long since gone home, and the clock above the door implores her to retire for the day. Laswell knows that option is probably what's healthy, but she's nothing if not obsessive at heart and a workaholic, especially when all the current leads on this case look like a massive ball of knotted yarn just waiting to be untangled.

The maps, the profiles, the photographs, the mountains of scattered files, and the wall of flickering screens— all of it— a puzzle, ready to be solved.

The job will get done, and with what the leads spiralling from Barkov look like, it needs to get done as soon as possible. As the clock steadily ticks away, and time drags Laswell into the early hours of the morning, she discovers that Barkov's secrets have secrets.

The leads spiral all across the map. France. Austria. Belarus. Poland. Siberia.

Internment camps. Massacres. Bombing civilian blocks. Trafficking weapons. Trafficking people.

The secrets unravel, the war crimes are stacking on top of each other, and the migraine sets in. She follows a lead that seizes her attention and puts a ball of dread in her stomach but seemingly leads to a dead end.

She reads for hours about young girls, often left orphaned from Barkov's killings, taken from orphanages in Urzikstan in droves and mysteriously disappearing from the face of the Earth. Laswell sits back after a few dedicated hours of digging as far as she can into the missing children. She sits and lets her mind sweep over the facts, letting her thoughts rove over the massive void of information in the middle of the story like a tongue feeling around the bloodied gums where a tooth had been. She wonders what has happened to these girls, somehow feeling that the answer to their disappearances may fill the pothole in their intelligence.

Laswell thinks of her young niece, about how her niece is now the same age as these girls when they went missing, and decides that she will find these girls at any cost, or at least make sure their story is known and whole. All the facts or none.

Sighing, Laswell pinches the bridge of her nose, lost in thought, just as the sun peeks over the DC skyline and dyes the sky in hues of purple and orange. She pulls a pack of migraine relief pills from her desk and swallows a handful of them down with a mouthful of cold coffee.

Then, just as the coffee settles unpleasantly on her empty stomach, the thought hits her as swift as lightning.

Belarus.

A money trail showed that Barkov's forces had frequently transported cargo to and from the country. She'd brushed the information off earlier, assuming they were solely transporting weapons and deeming it irrelevant to the missing girls. Now, however...

When Laswell had just begun her career in intelligence, she'd heard whispers of a covert facility buried somewhere in the snowy eastern European countryside in mission reports, and knew that half of the intelligence community believed it to be nothing more than a ghost story meant to intrigue the recruits. She knew that those who believed in its existence were convinced the KGB— now FSB— operated it long before and long after the USSR crumbled and Belarus gained independence.

Finding the base will be difficult, it had eluded the CIA for the better part of a century after all, but Barkov's death has condemned his empire to a slow death by a thousand cuts. Eventually, someone will slip up and give away the base, and the 141 will be there to wipe away the footprints of Barkov's legacy. 

>> BREST OBLAST, BELARUS

>> December 17th, 2019

Barkov is dead, and it's up to the 141 to wipe the shit stain off the map.

They don't have the full story yet, but for now Laswell has given them coordinates pointing deep into the snowy rural landscape of the Belarusian countryside.

Ghost watches a litter of workers mill around the dark tarmac like ants, clearing the runway of any stray streaks of ice and snow under a wan grey sky, and hoists his pack further up his shoulder as he and the rest of the 141 pile into a small cargo plane that looks more like a starved bird than a machine capable of flight. They amble noisily down the narrow aisle, dropping their packs into their seats and chattering amongst themselves, the sounds ricocheting off the blank walls.

Just as he’s settling in his chosen seat, someone drops heavily with a theatrical sigh into the seat to Ghost’s right. Sergeant MacTavish. Soap. Ridiculous fucking name but whatever he supposes. Soap grins crookedly at Ghost and scratches absentmindedly at a band aid taped to the jut of his bruised cheekbone — just one of many scattered across his face and knuckles that serve as clear testaments to Soap’s inability to keep himself out of trouble. 

“Laswell must be havin’ a field day, right LT?”

Ghost pictures in his mind Laswell hunched over a cramped desk for the past month just to find a measly single line of coordinates pointing them to arse fuck nowhere, and can’t help but think the poor woman isn’t having anything other than hell on earth let alone a field day. 

“Why’d you say that?” he asks gruffly, already feeling irritation seeping into him as he begrudgingly continues the conversation. 

“The CIA finally nailing a commie base after 60 years? Must be feelin’ proud o’themselves.”

“You’d think they’d be more irritated that it’s taken them that long. We don’t even know if this is it.”

Ghost discovers that Soap is the type of guy to embellish his words with expressive hand gestures, and he does so now. “Have some faith, LT. Hear both sides of the story before jumping to conclusions.”

“The only sides the CIA will know are the sides of my boot when I fit it up their arses if this goes nowhere.”

That cracks Johnny up, and Ghost looks away to hide the way the crow’s feet framing the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly under his mask. 

----------

What they find inside is nothing short of a bloodbath.

The facility was all but abandoned when they had made their way to the outer walls. No guards. No lights. No noise except the whistling of the wind sweeping over the snow.

The silence around them serves as an indicator of the deafening noise it must have taken for so many bodies to litter the floor. There are bullets embedded in the marble wall in the foyer, and the team picks their way inside over the heaps of dead guards. The blood is old enough to have coagulated, and there’s an unpleasant sticky noise every time Ghost lifts his boot to step forward.

They’re on the second level now, and the layers of spilt blood get thicker the deeper they go into the facility. Ghost passes a room before doubling back and entering, he takes a glance in and sees rows upon rows of wrought-iron beds with thin mattresses atop them. His head tilts curiously to the side as he spies a girl’s hair ribbon sprawled on the floor and a tiny pair of mary jane shoes tucked neatly under one of the beds.

Soap follows him, catching his attention silently to show Ghost the pairs of handcuffs dangling from each iron bedpost. The atmosphere is heavy, like the air in the room has a story of pain to tell and it’s suffocating them. 

Price is the one to palm his radio when they regroup and relay what they’ve seen, “Watcher-1, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that the lead’s legitimate.”

“I’ll be more glad to know if you’ve found the children,” Laswell returns crisply.

“Somebody got here before us, wiped out the whole place. ‘S a bloodbath.” The air shivers with tension. “No kids in sight now, though there’s evidence to suggest that they were here some time ago.”

A few seconds pass in silence. Ghost imagines that Laswell’s eyebrows are pinched like they always are whenever she runs into a problem or defeat. A bit more than a month of searching, for nothing more than a mass grave. 

A sigh comes over the line, but Laswell’s voice is determined. “We better find this somebody then.”

[adventuringblind]

Breathe For Me

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Dialouge: "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Summary: Marks on your soulmates skin appear on yours. Oscar and Lando hope they find whoever it is before they run out of time.

Warnings: SELF-HARM, Alcohol, scars, blood, panic attacks,

Notes: This is Part of my 1000 follower event. Feel free to click the link and throw me a request!

Masterlist

It's not every day you meet your soulmate. It's certainly not rare, but it also isn't an everyday event and is supposed to only happen once. If you're Lando Norris, then you get to go through it twice.

Originally he thought only one. I mean, maybe his souldmate is just clumsy. That is not the case however, because Lando has more scars, cuts, bumps, and bruises then anyone else he knows. He would be fine with it if he wasn't on national television all the time.

Max and Charles were lucky and found each other in Karting. Max had a bruise on his face from his dad and showed up to the race with it still getting darker. Charles had one to match. Now they're happily in love and the public doesn't now (is what they tell themselves).

So Lando finds himself stuck in between a soulmate who bruises every occasionally and on who gets scrapes nearly every day. He feels for whoever the first is because Lando is clumsy and is always running into things. Between himself and whoever the latter is, he probably is already exasperated.

Aside from his family, Carlos is the first person to notice. He double checks nothing is happening in Lando's own life that is causing all the marks. He assures happily that he's clumsy and the two soul mates certainly don't help.

Lando has heard of people carving names and addresses into their arms to find their destined partner. He lets it happen naturally. It's supposed destiny and who is he to rush it?

Daniel admits to an extreme worry of Lando. The older driver kept a close eye on him and Lando has to reassure him non-stop that he's clumsy, but it's not that bad.

He soon realizes that it's not the bruises Daniel is worried about, it's the scars. When his sweatshirt sleeves roll up the red lines are visible. It's something he's gotten used to over the past couple of years, but he dosen't think about it when he's not being filmed.

They cover a good amount of space on his body. Biceps, collarbone, thighs, stomach, and shins. It wasn't that bad until 2021 when it got significantly worse. It's stressing him out if he's being honest with himself.

He's is pieces when Daniel tells him he's losing his seat. No other driver lined up yet. Another teammate gone.

Daniel reassures him that Oscar looks like he'll make a good teammate. Lando is skeptical. Oscar is younger and a rookie.

The first time he meets Oscar is at the MTC. They shake hands, two sets of sleeves role up and Lando can't help but stare.

They match. Their wrists are completely identical.

They don't talk about it until a while later after spending the off season getting to know each other. They determined in Febuary they would be really close friends. It obviously escalated and now Charlotte keeps tell him to make it less obvious.

He's nit afraid to say he's weak for Oscar. A calm in his storm of emotions. The one person who can get him to actually rationalize his anxious thoughts.

In 2023, three rookies came to the grid. One of them being a female driver for alphatauri and a good friend of Oscar's. She then consequently became a friend of Lando's.

Which would be so terrible if Lando didn't know for a fact she's hiding something. She's shy and closed off to everybody unless it's him or Oscar. Mostly because he's forced his way under her skin.

"There is something about her, Osc. I can feel it in my bones."

"Are you sure it's not the cup of milk you downed getting to your head?"

"Rude!"

Oddly enough, it's max who approaches them about her later. He'd gotten to know her through media things and race weekends and often asked Lando about her or vice versa.

He pulls Oscar and him aside early one morning in the paddock. Oscar is still half asleep and Lando doesn't know what's happened until Max slides their sleeves up.

The ones they decided to wear to the cameras didn't pick up the fresh scar close to their elbow on their forearms. Completely identical to each other.

"You said you have another soulmate right?"

"Yes?"

"I think I might know who it is."

This is how Lando and Oscar find themselves in front of her hotel room door after the race. A DNF that wasn't her fault had ended her race early. Max had been about to go get her himself, but Lando and Oscar had said they would. If Max is right then they have a higher chance of getting through to the female driver.

Max sent them with the key card he has to her room. The one he forced her to give after he found her last night with a blade in her hand.

They knock out of curtosey first. No answer, as expected, but at least they tried. Maybe She’s asleep? Lando knows that’s probably not the case but he really doesn’t want to and see what is most likely happening. If the sting on his thigh says anything, it’s definitely not sleep.

Oscar keys the door open and hesitantly steps inside. Lando follows right on his heels. The lights are off and he would probably think it was empty if it weren’t for the visible blob of blankets in the corner that’s sobbing violently. to close to hyperventilation for Lando’s liking. He takes immediate action and pulls her out of the blankets.

Immediately, he keeps her body from curling in on itself so her chest is open and can get air easier. Oscar manages to find a lamp switch. She’s a wreck. So incredibly broken that Lando doesn’t know where to start.

“Breathe.” Is all he can come up with. "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Somehow he coax’s her to sleep. Him and Oscar combined manage to get her to bed, wrestle her shoes off, and bandage what they could see without removing clothing.

Oscar practically forces Lando into the be with her and he takes the floor. He’d said he’d take the floor with him, but Oscar claimed that Lando is the lighter sleeper and would know if she moved at all. Curse his soulmate and his logical thinking.

She manages to sleep until five in the morning. This time she just cries and huddles closer into Lando.

“I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state… I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

Lando maneuvers then int a sitting position. He then takes a pillow and throw it at his lover on the floor. Oscar stirs and groans.

“Must you.”

“Yes, It’s funny.”

Oscar makes his way up onto the bed and looks immediately like he’s going to fall asleep. Lando consequently throws another pillow at him.

“You should know something…” Lando starts. He doesn’t finish because the word are not doing what he needs them to. They jumble on his head and he can’t figure out where to start.

He’s entirely to grateful for Oscars presence. “Max thinks that the three of us are soulmates.”

Lando was thinking it would be like the first. Realization followed by smiles and laughs. This is not that. Instead it’s panic. She defends into the depths of her mind as she studies the match scars, even revealing her own identical one.

The pain, embarrassment and shame are written all over her features. She’s mumbling through some kind of an apology.

“Breathe.” He repeats. He says it over and over again until it’s all her own mind can hear.

Oscar looks gutted and lost. He’d helped Lando through many panic attacks, but this is completely different.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you. The doctors had tried to cut me off because it was a mistake since there were two. They said I wasn’t supposed to have one.”

Are the two boys shocked? A tad. Why would a doctor do that?

Lando doesn’t get time to ask as she pulls out a bottle of medication from the drawer in the nightstand. It’s stuff he’s heard of, but never actually seen. “This has been suppressed to sever the connection, but it hasn’t worked. They said to take it in higher doses at smaller intervals until it stops.”

She pops open the lid and pours a couple into her hands. Thank goodness for quick reflexes because Lando goes to get the ones in her hands, and Oscar goes for the bottle. She's too focused on Lando to notice the Aussie who manages to swipe it from her.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Didn't feel relevant."

"But this is incredibly dangerous! I've heard most people who do it end up -" Oh. It dawns on him why she's doing this to herself. The connection between them was already rough for her. She had been trying to 'fix' it like her doctors said. Had been told her entire life that the people who are fated to lover her unconditionally won't because she is nothing to them.

"How long have you been taking the meds?" Oscar's voice is so careful. The Brit would love to swoon, but it feels impolite at the moment.

"Years. They've tried everything. Put me on different kinds and change the dosage."

"Thirteen?" Lando whisper asks. His voice was barely audible. The small nod from the female confirms it. That's when the first scars arrived.

Lando places his hands on either side of her teary face. "You are not a mistake. You have never been a mistake. We've been aching for you. Scared maybe one day there wouldn't be any more marks and the implications of it. I've wanted nothing more than to tell you for years that you are loved and wanted."

He didn't even notice his own tears. Everything is just so overwhelming at the moment. They came so unexpectedly that it almost startled him. Screw Oscar and his ability to be amazing emotional support. The hand on Lando's knee is the only thing keeping him grounded.

They don't let her go until Max comes to get her. She's flying to do some filming with him. Neither of the males want to let her go, so they don’t. They end up flying with her since McLaren hasn’t filled their schedules.

But then they don’t leave. They spend every moment possible reminding her she is loved. That they want her. That nothing between them is a mistake.

Soon the scars start to fade.

But have no fear, Lando is clumsy enough to make up for it.

[problemchildtm]

Demolition

Derek Morgan x bau!reader

Angst/fluff~ 1.9k words

Warnings: Attachment issues, mentions of childhood trauma, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, suffering in silence (none specific), barely proofread, as always lmk if there’s more

A/n: My attempt at @reiderwriter ‘s 5K challenge. I started with one idea in mind then it kinda spiraled so this is the result. I’m still learning about writing so bear with me. This was so fun and congrats on 5K!!!!

Prompts: Grumpy x sunshine, Oh. OH, idiots in love maybe idk???

“She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggled grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never truly lived.”

Offputting, standoffish, rude: all words used to describe your demeanor and/or personality. A combination of these and more have run through your head for so long they’ve become a backtrack to your innermost thoughts. Though these were common sentiments thrown in your direction, you had little confidence in them. The words were hurled by people who would never truly know you nor make it past the walls you’ve so carefully created. No one has succeeded or even tried to climb the barriers until Derek Morgan. You’ve been with the Bau for a little over two years and while the majority of the team learned to accept your cold demeanor, Derek continues his attempt to coax you out of your shell. It’s not like you’re hostile, you just don’t go out of your way to be nice. Rather than converse and joke with the team you sit by yourself in silence. You speak when spoken to and refuse to drag out conversations or engage in small talk. The behavior was disheartening but necessary for your survival. Each action had an intention and they all boiled down to being averse to attachments. Small talk led to hangouts, hangouts led to friendships, friendships led to attachments, and attachments always led to heartbreak. Never once has an attachment left you feeling fulfilled. You’d been a witness to this fact a plethora of times and were determined to prevent the effects happening to you. It took some time but almost everyone eventually gave up their missions to get to know you. Almost everyone.

Derek Morgan was sickengly sweet to you. Every morning he insisted on making your first cup of coffee and every morning a note was left on that cup. Affirmations like “Good things are coming your way” or “You are a priority.” Honestly, it sounded straight out of a fortune cookie. It was dorky and inefficient yet you found yourself keeping every note. Not because you enjoyed them or found comfort in them or anything it would just be rude to throw it away. Right? Right. And it didn’t end with the notes. He’d personally drop off the note-adorned coffee and try to strike up a conversation. You’d always give a polite thank you and that was it. Well, there was one time you actually engaged with him and you swore he never smiled that hard before. Both the smile and conversation seemed to last the whole day and the ones following. His incessant need to speak and be around you should’ve annoyed you to no end but it almost made you open up. Almost. The second you felt the reins attached to your defense mechanisms loosen you immediately tightened them. They were there for a reason and somehow Derek Morgan made you want to loosen them. Under no circumstances would you give in. So, for the foreseeable future, you’d suffer in silence and suppress the urge to be unconditionally yourself in his presence.

You persisted in rejecting Derek’s attempts to get closer to you and it hurt. Why did it hurt? Unfortunately Fortunately, the upcoming case gave you no time to think about that one. Walking into the conference room, you never expected the image on the screen. It was a map of a familiar area, aka your hometown. Clearly, hiding a rare emotion in a room of profilers was futile because every single one of them asked if you were okay- even Garcia. Frozen in shock you could only muster up “hometown.” The answer seemed to appease them but you could sense the pity floating around the room. Derek gently grabbed your hand and led you to the seat beside him, grounding you. The gesture was followed by the signature Derek Morgan smile that was reserved for you. In return, you offered a small smile back and got into the case. His lingering eyes and overall concern went unnoticed by the object of his affections but caught the eye of every other person in that room. Thankfully the case was as straightforward as serial killers can be. It appeared to be cut-and-dry but everyone knew not to assume. Hypotheses and ideas were thrown back and forth between team members but you could only focus on the possibilities plaguing your mind. Taking notice of your unnaturally frightened air Derek carefully approached. “Wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” Truthfully you didn’t know how to respond. What wasn’t going through your head more like? Understanding you couldn’t keep everything to yourself for the good of the case you started small. “A lot. I haven’t been there since I was sixteen and I wasn’t exactly well-liked.” Hanging on to your every word Derek continued, “Why not?” This time you didn’t respond, just kept staring out of the window. He was getting too close. You were getting too close. That wasn’t enough for him but he wouldn’t dare invade your boundaries; he cared too much to sacrifice the little progress he’s made. Before slipping on his headphones he remarked, “You don’t have to tell me but at least know I’m here and judgment-free.” This was going to be a long case.

The first few days were spent compiling evidence and chasing bodies as the case wasn’t as simple as previously thought. Each minute spent there was pulling at you. It felt like your body was constantly on fire, the only thing cooling you off being scribbles on a paper cup. The messages were less generic and more heartfelt. Unlike other mornings Derek backed off, giving you space to process your thoughts and notes. You missed the near-constant chatter and focused all your energy on the case, hoping it would return once on to the next. After a while, you had a lead. With Reid’s help the geographical profile was done and right in the center was a park you frequented as a kid. Maybe less than a park and more like a grass field surrounded by office buildings but tomato tomato. Hotch assigned you and Morgan to check it out so that’s what you went off to do. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He looked over and smiled. “You gonna tell me the significance of this patch of grass or do I have to profile it out of you?” Rolling your eyes you relented. There was no point in dragging it. “I grew up poor and the local park charged entry. Every poor kid in the area would come here.” The look of shock on his face wasn’t missed despite his efforts to conceal it. “I’ve never heard of a park charging kids to play is that even legal?” “Unfortunately for you, I am not Reid and cannot give you an answer.” you chuckled. That was the first time he heard you laugh in any capacity and he was so determined to hear it again. “You should laugh more, it’s adorable.” Adorable? You’ve been called a lot of names in your life: by your parents, peers, teachers, superiors, you name it. Adorable has never been one of them. You spent a couple of seconds analyzing him. “You think I’m adorable?” At the end of your sentence, that smile reappeared. “Incredibly. Especially when you try not to smile at my jokes.” He said playfully. Dumbfounded, the only retort you had was honesty. “I don’t smile much anymore. I want to but I can’t.” “Why not?” As much as you wanted the conversation to continue, you couldn’t help but notice how different your childhood hotspot looked. While his eyes were still on you you jumped out of the SUV and took in your surroundings. It smelt different. Years ago it smelt like wonder. As hopeless as it sounds the area smelt like wonder. It felt like an entirely different reality. One you could escape to when things at home and school were bad and that was often if not continuously. It no longer felt like that. It felt cold, bare even. The childlike wonder was gone, the hope was gone, your escape was gone. Suddenly your eyes began to well with tears and the floodgates opened. "You didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, you were nothing but a child who had never lived." The emotions overwhelmed every sense and the brass reality hit like a truck. All the walls, all the precautions stopped you from ever truly living. You clung onto that escape and depended on it, perpetually remaining the child that needed to come here to truly live. You wanted to be more open, you wanted to have friends and relationships, you wanted to be better.

Everything came to a head when Derek rushed over to you, frantically asking if you were okay. He’s never seen you cry. Before today he’s never seen you be anything other than complacent. The past fifteen minutes have been the most amount of emotions he’s seen from you and he didn’t know what to do or how to help. Worried, he stuck to a bearhug and a mantra: “You’re okay, you’re safe, come back to me please.” He was practically begging after five minutes. In between breaths, you managed to get out a strangled “Why do you like me? Why haven’t you given up on me?” You were still crying but Derek knew he needed to act. He pulled away and softly wiped your tears, forcing you to look at him. “I need you to copy my breathing baby, can you do that?” It took some time but you were able to get your breathing under control, the tears not so much. Silence took over the two of you until he spoke up. “Why would I give up on you? Everyone suffers differently. You choose silence and that’s okay, the only thing I can do is be a shoulder for you to cry on if you choose it. I haven’t given up because I want you to be happy.” He paused, gathering his next thoughts. “I like you because you’re unapologetically you. You try to detach yourself and not care but you’re not great at it. I know you sneak Garcia’s favorite snacks into her lair and don’t think I’m oblivious to you being the one to listen to Reid’s ramblings when the rest of us tune him out.” You interrupted him. “You guys should stop doing that by the way it’s mean” For the first time in what felt like forever he laughed. “See that’s what I mean. You hide behind a grumpy exterior but you’re so much more than that, and that’s one of the many reasons I like you.” You just stared at him. You couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to you like that, let alone the last time someone saw beyond your gruff exterior. You started to apologize for the breakdown but he quickly nipped that, explaining how you don’t need to feel sorry. You felt safe for once. The cold feeling dissipated and was replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. The tears stopped and you were hyperfocused on the way the man in front of you met your eyes. The silence that hung over you felt like normalcy that only lasted a second before Derek spoke up. “If it wasn’t clear baby I like you.” You looked up at him confused. “I know you just told me that.” A dopey smile spread across his face as he answered. “No, I like you and want to take you out on a date.” Oh. OH. You smiled. A real, toothy, dopey smile that matched his. “I’d like that.” The walls began chipping away.

It would take time and resources to completely demolish them but for the first time you were excited for the demolition.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Not-So-Normal Day

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was determined to have a normal day. After the chaos of time travel, apocalypses, and his family’s constant drama, he and his wife, Y/N, deserved some peace and quiet. He had planned a simple day for them: breakfast at their favorite café, a walk in the park, and a quiet evening at home. It was supposed to be perfect.

But the Hargreeves family had other plans.

The day started promisingly enough. Five and Y/N walked hand in hand to the café, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the city. They found a cozy corner table and ordered their usual: pancakes for Y/N and coffee for Five. As they waited for their food, Five felt a rare sense of calm.

Then the door to the café burst open, and Klaus strolled in, wearing a flamboyant feathered hat and a neon pink jacket. “Hey, lovebirds!” he called out, drawing the attention of everyone in the café.

Five groaned inwardly. “Klaus, what are you doing here?”

Klaus slid into the booth next to Y/N, completely ignoring Five’s annoyed expression. “Just thought I’d join you two for breakfast. I mean, what’s a normal day without a bit of family bonding?”

Y/N stifled a laugh as Five glared at his brother. “We were kind of hoping for some alone time, Klaus.”

Klaus waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense! Besides, I bring entertainment.” He pulled out a deck of tarot cards and began shuffling them dramatically.

Despite Five’s protests, Klaus stayed for the entire breakfast, regaling them with absurd stories and giving impromptu tarot readings to the waitstaff. By the time they left the café, Five’s hopes for a quiet morning were thoroughly dashed.

Next, they headed to the park. Five hoped for a peaceful walk, maybe a chance to sit by the lake and enjoy the tranquility. They found a secluded bench and sat down, Five finally beginning to relax.

“Maybe we’ll actually get some peace now,” Y/N said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Five smiled. “Let’s hope so.”

Just as they were starting to enjoy the moment, a soccer ball came flying out of nowhere, landing at their feet. They looked up to see Luther and Diego jogging over, both dressed in athletic gear.

“Hey, Five! Y/N!” Luther called out. “We need an extra player for our game. Wanna join?”

Five’s expression hardened. “No, Luther, we’re trying to have a quiet day.”

Diego shrugged. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Just one game.”

Before Five could protest, Y/N nudged him playfully. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to join them for a bit. It might be fun.”

Reluctantly, Five agreed, and what was supposed to be a quick game turned into an intense match. Luther and Diego’s competitive nature took over, and soon they were diving for the ball and arguing over every point. Y/N cheered them on from the sidelines, laughing at their antics.

By the time the game was over, Five was exhausted. He and Y/N decided to head home, hoping to salvage what was left of their day. They walked back to their apartment, fingers entwined, sharing quiet laughter about the unexpected turn of events.

As they approached their building, they noticed a familiar figure sitting on the steps. It was Viktor, holding a violin case and looking sheepish.

“Viktor?” Five said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Viktor stood up, smiling apologetically. “I heard you guys were having a normal day and thought you might like some music.”

Y/N grinned. “That sounds lovely, Viktor.”

They all went up to the apartment, where Viktor played a beautiful, calming melody that filled the space with warmth. For a moment, Five felt the peace he had been longing for.

But just as Viktor finished his piece, Allison burst through the door, followed by a trail of paparazzi. “Sorry, I couldn’t shake them!” she exclaimed, slamming the door shut.

Five buried his face in his hands. “Why can’t we just have one normal day?”

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “Maybe this is our normal, Five. Chaos and all.”

Five sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I guess you’re right.”

As the day came to an end, Five and Y/N sat on the couch, surrounded by his siblings. It wasn’t the quiet, peaceful day he had planned, but it was filled with laughter, love, and the unique madness that only the Hargreeves family could bring.

And in the midst of it all, Five realized that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly the kind of normal he needed.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hey, there. Can you help me with this? I am stuck on creating with this motivation for my WIP.

Those who seek death shall live, and those who seek lives shall die How do you create a character with this type of character motivation? either is an important side character, villain, mentor, or even main character?

Hi! Some writers like to use character tropes as inspiration when they get stuck with a certain idea. Here are some examples I found for you that you can use as a guide. And alter as needed for your story:

"Death Seeker" Trope

At some point in the past, some characters have had a traumatic experience, found themselves dishonored, committed a crime they could not repay, lost everything worth living for, caught an incurable disease or just became bored with continued existence.

For whatever reason, rather than turning to suicide, they went off seeking battles to fight, hoping to find an enemy who would kill them, and achieve an honorable, heroic, awesome, or otherwise acceptable death, sometimes going as far as outright surrendering and offering their life to their enemies. 

Martyrdom Cultures may regard such a character as a role model, even if upon closer examination they might seem like a Martyr Without a Cause.

In cases of cruel Irony, the characters who snap out of it and find something to live for often end up dying or getting killed shortly afterwards anyway.

A real life example:

Jeffrey Dahmer frequently expressed his wish to die for his crimes while in prison. When he was attacked by another prisoner who attempted to slit his throat, he refused to press charges and requested to be returned to the general prison population. Only a few months later, he was beaten to death by another prisoner. His last words were, reportedly: "I don't care if I live or die — go ahead and kill me."

"I Cannot Self-Terminate" Trope

Perhaps they've just been wounded in a vital area and know they are going to die slowly and in agony, and just want to die with dignity/end the pain quickly. Perhaps they are prisoners and being tortured, and the hero cannot break them free but could shoot them.

In any case, while they're ready or even eager to die, they cannot do it on their own. This can also count as a Heroic Sacrifice, sometimes.

If the character is robotic, this may occur due to influence from Asimov's Laws. Specifically, the Third Law states that a robot may not harm itself, or through inaction allow itself to be harmed, unless doing so is required to uphold the First or Second Law. Even when not following the hierarchical laws of robotics, it could still occur if a robot is simply programmed for self-preservation.

The victim may plead for death even when it is possible for them to be saved, owing to the pain. The hero is likely to override that, often saying No One Gets Left Behind.

Accidental Murder: Occurs when a situation that wasn't intended to be lethal ends with the death of someone anyway.

Anyone Can Die: This is easily defined as definite Truth in Television, because all living organisms are mortal and are bound to, by statistics at least, eventually die for any number of reasons, with no fiction writers to determine how it happens. When used poorly or too frequently, this trope can cause Too Bleak, Stopped Caring, possibly with audiences uttering the Eight Deadly Words, as the audience won't see any point in getting attached to characters that they expect to die sooner or later. A good way to check if this trope applies is to see if who survives is an important plot point, rather than only how they survive.

Cheated Death, Died Anyway: When a character narrowly escapes death on occasion (and perhaps more than one occasion), only to die shortly thereafter anyway…in a completely different way. Exactly how close the two incidents have to be varies, so the important factor in this trope is the presence of irony. This can apply in a matter of minutes, months, or even (in rare cases) years; the deciding factor is the Bait-and-Switch element of the death.

Death Is the Only Option: The only way to achieve victory is to die.

Forgiveness Requires Death: In order to be forgiven of their crimes, the character must die.

Heroic Sacrifice: Sacrificing your own life for the greater good.

Jumping on a Grenade: Sacrificing oneself by using one's own body as a shield against a deadly threat in hopes of sparing others.

Metaphorical Suicide: A despondent character willingly resigns themself to a fate similar to death without actually dying.

The Problem with Fighting Death: …is that even if you win, you'll still eventually lose. Killing or imprisoning Death might not offer protection either, as his sister Entropy goes around making everyone grow old and wish to die while Death Takes a Holiday or cause a plague of ghosts as the souls of the dead get stuck on Earth. This is the problem with fighting Death, Hades, The Devil, Psychopomps, Anthropomorphic Personifications or even God; you just can't win. However, a draw may be possible with creativity. If all that matters is that there be a Death, then replacing him with someone friendlier or someone with whom deals can be struck and honored can be a way to go. This can be done by appealing to someone higher on the divinity ladder, getting someone else to kill and replace Death (or doing so yourself, if you're willing to accept the job for the rest of eternity), and flying out of Hell are all possibilities. In this way, one can say Living Forever Is Awesome.

Who Wants to Live Forever?: If an immortal being grows so sick of eternal life that they just want it to end already.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps inspire your writing! You can look through the sources for more information on each trope.

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 7 - Breaking point

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 10.2k

Warnings: Blood, murder, ice pick stabbing, grief, trauma, and vulnerability. Disturbing imagery? (to some maybe), intense emotions, reader has feelings of guilt and fear. Heavy themes. Reader experiences shock and a sense of personal violation, I murder a minor in the ladder half of the chapter (maybe this is the last murder in the fic…. I don't know yet)……. Also maybeeeee there's an almost kiss 😈.

A/N: This took me way too long to edit…… like 4 days. And the only reason is that I'm a dumbass who constantly kept backtracking and adding more things and new scenes to the chapter….. I literally added 2.5k more words to this than it started out with.

Also I've had a busy week so that's that ;)

Masterlist

The sharp screech of tires behind you brought you back from the depths of your shock, but even as the sound echoed through the street, your mind struggled to process what lay in front of you fully. The grotesque sight of Branson’s lifeless body slumped against your front door, the dark pool of blood seeping from his chest, the ice pick still lodged in his heart — it all felt like a sick and twisted dream, something too horrific to be real — too close to home, literally.

The words smeared across your door, “You’re next,” burned into your mind, each letter etched in blood, like a threat — no, it was a threat, a threat you were far too stunned to recognize.

You felt frozen in place, paralyzed by the disbelief of the situation as well as the terror swirling around in your chest. You were unable to tear your gaze from the gruesome sight. Your breath came in shallow gasps — small clouds of condensation forming in the air — the reality of what you saw was slow to sink in. The wind whipped around you, carrying the soft rustling of leaves in the trees, but even that felt distant like it couldn’t quite reach your ears through the numbness creeping through your body.

The slam of the car door echoed sharply — the sound was violent compared to the gentle rustles of the night — a sound that should’ve jolted you, but you barely registered it. He moved with a quick, determined stride, his dark coat billowing slightly in the air as he cut across the street and through the shadows to reach you.

And then, through the thickening fog of your fear, he appeared in front of you. Solid, familiar — the cologne, you recognized it — He was undeniably real, not just something you'd imagined.

Hotch

His face, usually composed, now portrayed subtle cracks of concern as his gaze swept over the scene. Swiftly he swept it over Branson’s lifeless body, taking in the blood and the message scrawled on your door — it was not the first time he had seen a message like that, but the difference was that last time he knew that she could defend herself if necessary. You, not so much.

But then his eyes found you — you were still frozen in shock — they softened as he took in the state you were in, a mix of worry and concern spreading as he took you in. Without a word, he closed the distance between you — his presence felt grounding in the chaos — and pulled you into a firm, shielding embrace. He didn't know what had come over him — He rarely got this close with victims, no matter what they went through. But you were different.

His arms encircled you completely, holding you tightly, as though his strength alone could shield you from the horror just feet away. Although your eyes were blank — staring into the void — your arms instinctively wrapped around his back as you turned your head to let your cheek rest on his chest.

The warmth of his chest against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breathing — it all anchored you, pulling you from the haze that had swallowed your mind. For a brief moment, everything else faded: the blood, the message, the body against your door. All that existed was the safety of his hold, the quiet assurance of his touch. Him.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice rumbled in his chest making it slightly vibrate against your cheek. Hotch kept murmuring reassuring words to you, trying to reach through the panic that gripped you down to your core. But your breath was still shallow, your words tangled in the back of your throat. Your wide, glazed eyes couldn’t stop flicking back to the scene, the blood still fresh, the ice pick still gleaming in the faint light of the moon. Hotch’s arms tightened just a little as he quietly turned both your bodies around, making sure he was the one to face Branson's body, not you.

"I'm sorry... I—" you stammered, finally managing to speak, your voice broke under the weight of everything, everything you couldn't figure out how to express. The words felt hollow, lost in the moment once they'd been spoken. As the world spun around you, your knees threatened to give way, the ground beneath you felt unstable — yet the concrete was newly paid, leaving little room for uneven terrain. But before you could crumble, Hotch hooked one of his hands around your underarm and tightened his grip around you before pulling you closer, his presence was the only thing keeping you upright in that moment.

As he felt your breaths slowly getting calmer, he moved his other hand gently to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a softness that contrasted the harsh reality.

"Don’t apologize," he whispered, his voice was filled with reassurance. His breath ghosted over your temple as he spoke. "Just focus on me. I’m here."

Hotch managed to fish his phone from his coat pocket with the freest of his hands, keeping his arm wrapped securely around you to the best of his ability as he quickly dialed for backup. Even in this moment, his movements were fluid and purposeful, a testament to his training as an agent as well as his instincts as a human. As he spoke, his voice shifted back to its authoritative tone, the one you had heard several times before — sharp, commanding, and laced with urgency as he barked orders into the phone. "I need units at (Y/N)'s address immediately — I don't care, send them all — We've got a homicide, and she’s been threatened. Secure the perimeter, and get forensics down here. Now!"

His eyes were laser-focused, darting back and forth as he processed the situation, and tried to profile the crime scene to the best of his abilities, while still needing to make sure you were okay. The tension in his jaw was evident as he took in the horrific scene, the pieces of the puzzle finally snapping together. His gaze locked onto the message scrawled on your door, the horror of it deepening his frown. He had been too late the last time, but now was his chance to redeem his past actions. "And make it fast. No delays," he added, his voice brokering no argument.

You stood there, pressed against him as your body trembled uncontrollably. The raw reality of what had unfolded settled in your stomach like a heavy, sinking weight. Branson’s lifeless body — each horrifying detail — flashed over and over in your mind, etched too deeply to ignore. The nausea that had been simmering suddenly surged, more forceful than before, and for a moment, you thought you could hold it back. But the bile rose too fast, too fierce.

With a shaky gasp, you pulled away from Hotch as quickly as you could, stumbling a few steps toward the nearest bush. Your body betrayed you as you bent forward, retching, the nausea spilling out in waves. Your fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree beside you, gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. The sound of your own ragged breaths filled your ears, and all you could feel was the sickening churn in your gut.

Hotch was by your side in an instant, one hand resting gently on your back, while the other gently moved your hair back and into a makeshift ponytail as you emptied what little remained in your stomach. He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, offering silent comfort. When you finally straightened, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you looked pale, beads of sweat evident on your forehead.

"Come on," Hotch said gently, grabbing your hand as he once again wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. His voice was soft but steady. "Let’s get you somewhere safe." His hand remained firm around yours, guiding you with careful, deliberate, and slow steps toward his car. You could feel his thumb brushing gentle circles over your knuckles, each touch grounding you in a way words couldn't. It was like he knew that the smallest connection was just enough to stop you from collapsing completely.

When you reached the car, he opened the passenger door with ease, then gently helped you inside. You barely registered the seat beneath you, still numb from the shock of it all, but his hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t just a gesture of comfort — it was something far deeper, a reminder that he wasn’t just some big-shot FBI unit chief tonight. He was someone who genuinely cared.

You leaned back against the seat, feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once, closing your eyes in an attempt to block everything out.

The distant wail of sirens cut through the night, growing louder with each passing second until it was no longer just a sound but a piercing force that seemed to disturb the air around you. In an instant, the street outside was flooded with a sea of flashing red and blue lights, illuminating the darkened neighborhood. Officers descended onto the scene with purpose, their movements quick and coordinated — they knew just what to do. Forensics teams began to set up their equipment, yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze as it was stretched across the area by an officer, and the soft murmur of voices carried through the night. The once-quiet street had transformed into a chaotic hive of activity, the lights casting a surreal, almost otherworldly glow over everything.

Outside the car, the commotion grew as K9 units arrived on the scene, their dogs weaving through the taped-off perimeter. Their barks echoed in the night. The low hum of radios crackled to life as handlers gave commands, and the dogs sniffed along the ground, searching for any trace of the unsub’s path. Their noses skimmed over the blood-streaked pavement and dewy grass, while officers kept a close watch, ensuring nothing was overlooked.

Yet, inside Hotch’s car, the world felt muted — detached from the frenetic scene outside. The flashing lights, the movement of officers, the blaring sirens, the barking dogs — it was all muffled as if a thick layer of glass separated you from the outside world. The bubble of silence around you was eerie, you hated it, but couldn't shake muffled sounds that hit your ears. You sat there, still, eyes locked on the windshield, staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. The night outside bled into a blur, the colors and shapes swirling together making the world around you distorted.

Your mind, however, was still anchored to a singular image — the last, awful sight of Branson. That scene played on a loop behind your eyes, each detail etched into your memory. Especially the ice pick — it swirled in your thoughts, refusing to let go, trapping you in a state of disbelief. It didn’t feel real. It couldn't be real.

Hotch crouched down in front of you, his tall frame folding with an effortless grace, bringing him just below your level in a way that felt intimate. He didn’t say anything — there were no words that could possibly ease the weight of what you’d witnessed — but his presence was enough. His hand found yours — it was warm compared to your icy one — fingers threading together as though silently promising you weren’t facing this alone.

His thumb traced soft, rhythmic circles over your skin, a small yet deeply intimate gesture, one he likely didn’t even realize he was doing. It was instinct. The weight of his gaze, soft yet concerned, held you, too. It was like he was trying to tell you, without saying a thing, that he was here, that he would shoulder the weight of this even if you couldn’t.

Time seemed to stretch, each minute dragging on as though the weight of what had happened too was too much for the clock to bear. Minutes felt like hours as you and Hotch remained there — silently waiting for your mind to catch up.

You could feel the rise and fall of your own breath as you began to regain consciousness, shaky and uneven, while Hotch remained still. You stole a glance at him, the soft glow of the lights catching the flicker of concern in his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed beyond this.

After what felt like an eternity, movement outside the car caught your attention. Through the distorted haze of flashing lights and shadows, you saw Morgan approaching, his stride was purposeful — obviously searching for Hotch — his face was etched with a seriousness that made your stomach tighten. His eyes flickered briefly between you and Hotch as he came to a stop just outside the passenger door.

“Hotch,” he said, trying not to alert you to any of the findings forensics had found.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around yours before he finally let go. The warmth of his palm slipping from your grasp felt like a sudden, chilling loss, and you fought the instinct to reach out again. He stood, straightening his tall frame as he reluctantly stepped away, he shot you a glance, as if to silently reassure you that he wasn't far, that he’d still be there even from a few paces away.

Your gaze followed him as he joined Morgan a few steps from the car, his back now partially turned to you. Even with the distance between them, you could see the taut line of his shoulders, the way his body remained rigid with tension. The concern that had softened his face when he held you seemed to harden again as he listened to Morgan, his eyes darting back to the crime scene, then flicking briefly toward you, making sure you were still okay.

From where you sat, you couldn’t hear all the words they exchanged, but the tension of their conversation hung in the air, you could sense it even from afar. Hotch’s jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides as he absorbed whatever Morgan was telling him, his facade of leadership slipping back into place. But before he fully immersed himself in the chaos outside, he cast one last look over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary, as if to remind you — I haven’t forgotten about you.

Morgan was already in full investigation mode, his brow deeply furrowed as he stole another glance back at the crime scene, where the forensics team was still methodically combing through every inch of evidence under the harsh glare of floodlights. The flashing red and blue lights cast a glow over the area, their shifting colors reflecting off the glass of the SUV, throwing fleeting shadows across both men’s faces.

"Talk to me," Hotch’s voice was quiet, and controlled, trying to make sure you wouldn't hear any of their conversation. He crossed his arms, posture rigid, every ounce of his attention locked onto Morgan.

Morgan exhaled, his hand scraping over the back of his neck in a gesture that managed to reveal the gravity of the situation to you. "Forensics team’s been working the scene for the last fifteen minutes," he started. "The ice pick — it's clean. No prints, no identifiable traces — no nothing. Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing." He paused. "But Branson didn’t go down without a fight. He's got defensive wounds on his hands, a struggle for sure. This wasn’t quick."

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with the implication. "He fought back?" The question hung in the air.

“Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “It just wasn’t enough. By the time anyone got here…” His voice trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the door where Branson’s body had been — now on its way to the morgue. The area was marked off with police tape now. “He was already gone.”

Hotch shifted his weight slightly as he processed the information. “Anything else?” he asked.

Morgan’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he shared the next piece of the puzzle. “There is one more thing. The coroner estimated the time of death based on the blood, the body temperature, and rigor mortis. Hotch…” He paused, taking a breath as if preparing himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. “Branson was alive an hour ago. An hour.”

Hotch'ss gaze flicked to you for a brief second, still sitting in the car. He felt the air grow thick with tension around him. An hour meant that the unsub was still nearby, potentially even watching them right now. He could almost feel the clock ticking, each second dragging as they raced against him.

“An hour,” Hotch repeated, his voice low, barely above a whisper but brimming with restrained anger — mostly anger on the situation that this would put you in.

“Yeah,” Morgan confirmed. “Whoever did this — it wasn’t some random break-in, man. They knew what they were doing. They were fast, precise, and they left that message on the door just for her.”

Hotch inhaled deeply, his mind already racing through potential scenarios and calculating their next steps. The meticulousness of the crime screamed intent, a calculated plan rather than a spur-of-the-moment attack — but he still couldn't shake the feeling that this was supposed to be you, not Branson. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He glanced at you again, sitting in the car with a dazed expression. You had just missed Branson’s killer, and the idea that he might still be nearby sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“We need to get her out of here, now,” Hotch said, his voice clipped, each word felt sharp as they rolled off his tongue. He could feel the urgency pulsing through him, a powerful instinct urging him to act before it was too late. “Have the team sweep the area, and I want surveillance from every corner of this block sent to Garcia.” He knew they couldn’t afford to underestimate the killer’s capabilities.

Morgan nodded as he absorbed Hotch’s command. “Already in motion. We’re pulling footage from all nearby cameras.” He turned, his mind already racing through the logistical challenges, mentally preparing for the immediate task of gathering intel.

Hotch’s eyes stayed locked on you, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the full scope of how close the danger had been — how close it still was. “She’s not safe here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Morgan. “Not until we figure out who’s behind this.”

“I'll take her back to the BAU,” he decided, his voice steadier now. “We can keep her safe there while we investigate. I want someone with her at all times — she deserves protection until we can ensure she’s out of harm’s way — I'll take the first shift.”

Hotch gave a curt nod, his protective instincts in full gear, as his mind shifted back to you and what needed to be done next. You weren't going to like it though, he knew that much.

Hotch slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar contours of the car offering him a semblance of control in a world that had quickly spun wildly out of it. The engine rumbled to life as he turned the key, shattering the silence that had settled around you. As he pulled away from the chaotic scene, the flashing lights of police cruisers faded into the distance behind you, but the weight of everything still pressed heavily on your chest. The bright colors, usually a beacon of help, now felt more like a reminder of the nightmare you had just escaped.

You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out at the darkened streets, lost in your thoughts. The night felt surreal.

As the city blurred past, memories of Branson began to flood your mind — his expressions, the way he relentlessly pushed you to your limits, and those moments when his frustration spilled over into harsh words. You could almost hear him now, his voice echoing in your thoughts, the biting criticism ringing in your ears. “You call that a spin? You need to push harder, or you won’t make it to sectionals.” You knew he never meant it like that, only wanting to push you to perfection.

The sting of his words had cut deeper than you realized, a reminder of the high expectations he had set for you and the relentless pursuit of excellence he embodied. But now, in the wake of his tragic end, those very words morphed into haunting echoes of regret. Guilt washed over you like a cold wave, relentless and overwhelming. What had you missed? Were you the cause of this?

You replayed every interaction, every practice session, scrutinizing your memories for clues, for hints that could have warned you of the danger. Each laugh shared, every supportive word felt tainted now. The more you thought about it, the more the guilt clawed at you, a heavy weight settling in your stomach, twisting tighter with every breath.

Had you truly been so absorbed in your own aspirations that you failed to notice that someone had been creeping around in the shadows?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, blurring your view of the city. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Branson deserved better, and you felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility as if you could have somehow altered the course of events if only you had been more aware, more present.

A sharp exhale from Hotch broke through your reverie, drawing you back to the present. “Are you okay?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before refocusing on the road ahead, his grip tightening on the steering wheel slightly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the word feeling hollow as it left your lips. Even as you spoke, the image of Branson’s lifeless body remained etched in your mind.

“I just... I can’t believe he’s gone,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the rawness of your grief. “I don’t understand how this could happen. What did I miss? Who did this?” You wanted answers, a reason, something that could explain the senseless violence that had ripped your world apart.

Hotch’s brow furrowed with concern as he drove, his focus unwavering. “You couldn’t have known what was coming. This isn’t on you.” His voice was steady, almost like a lifeline amid the turmoil. But the reassurance felt distant as if it were meant for someone else, someone who wasn’t grappling with the painful reality of loss.

You turned your gaze out the window, watching the city lights flicker by. Deep down, you knew Hotch was right; you hadn’t seen the signs, but that didn’t erase the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“What if I could have helped him?” you asked softly, more to yourself than to him. “What if I could have changed something? What if I had been here just a moment earlier?” The ‘what ifs’ were suffocating, spiraling into a vortex of self-blame and sorrow.

Hotch’s hand shifted slightly on the wheel as he considered your words. “You’re not a mind reader,” he replied, his tone was firm but gentle — he was always gentle with you. “You were focused on your training, on your goals. There was no way you could have anticipated this.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You have to remember that you did everything you could in your capacity. Sometimes, evil acts without warning, and it’s not something you can control  — Besides if you'd been here earlier, I'm not sure we would be having this conversation right now.” Hotch hated to speak those words, but he needed you to know that there was nothing you could've done.

The weight of his words sank in, but the guilt still gnawed at you relentlessly. Had you failed him? You still couldn't shake the feeling that you should have done more, seen more.

“Branson’s death is on the person who took his life, not you,” Hotch said, “He was in a dangerous position, and whatever conflict he had, those were between him and whoever hurt him. You didn’t cause this.” Hotch didn't want to admit the real truth behind Branson's death, he couldn't, not when you were this distraught.

You nodded, but inside, the turmoil raged on. “It just feels so unfair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was always so strong. I thought he could handle anything.”

“Right now, you need to focus on staying safe,” Hotch continued, “I'm taking you to the BAU for the night. You need to be out of the public eye until we figure out what’s going on. The last thing we want is for you to be targeted next.”

You felt a swell of gratitude toward Hotch for his unwavering commitment to your safety, but anxiety fluttered in your chest. “What if they find me? What if—”

“They won’t,” Hotch interjected, “I'll make sure of it. The team is already mobilizing to ensure your safety, and we have protocols in place for situations like this.” His confidence provided a flicker of hope.

His protective tone gave you a sense of comfort, but the lingering shadows of doubt remained. How close had you really come to danger? The realization that you had missed the killer — maybe only by mere seconds — sent shivers down your spine.

As Hotch turned down a quiet street, you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you for being here,” you said quietly, the gratitude spilling from your heart. You knew that the gravity of your situation wasn’t lost on him; he understood the stakes far too well.

He nodded, his focus unwavering as he navigated through the darkened roads, the steady rhythm of the engine creating a false sense of normalcy. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replied, “We’ll figure this out together. One way or the other.” You leaned back in your seat, trying to absorb his words.

Hotch took a sharp corner, the familiar outline of the BAU building looming ahead like a fortress amidst the darkness of the night. A swell of unease twisted in your stomach.

“Hotch, I don’t think I need to go back there,” you protested, your voice wavering slightly, betraying the fear that lingered just beneath the surface. “I can stay at my apartment. I’ll be fine. I promise.” The thought of returning to the very place that had become a backdrop for the whole case sent chills through you, and you desperately clung to the hope of finding safety within your own four walls.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you as if he had already anticipated your objections. “No, you’re not fine. Not after what happened tonight.” His voice was firm. “I need you to understand this isn’t just about you feeling safe; it’s about your safety. The unsub is targeting people close to you, and we can’t take any chances, not when you've outright been threatened on your own doorstep.”

“But I can handle this! I’m not a child,” you insisted, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. You hated the feeling of being trapped, like a bird caged against its will, desperately flapping its wings to escape. The independence you had always prided yourself on felt stripped away, replaced by a suffocating sense of helplessness.

“Believe me, I know you’re not a child,” Hotch replied, his tone suggested that he understood your frustration but wouldn’t back down. “But the facts are clear. Branson was murdered in your doorway. You need protection until we get a handle on this.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice quieter now, revealing the vulnerability you were struggling to hide. “I can’t keep you away from your work.”

“You’re not a burden,” Hotch said. “You’re my priority. We can’t afford to let our guard down, especially when you’re in the crosshairs of someone who’s already proven they can kill — multiple times.”

You glanced out the window, the streetlights flickering slightly. As much as you wanted to argue, deep down, you knew he was right.

“Just for tonight,” you complied, the words tasting bittersweet as they left your lips. “But I don’t want to be locked up like some kind of prisoner.” The image of being confined within four walls, stripped of your freedom, sent a shiver down your spine.

Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile. “I understand,” he replied, his eyes were full of empathy as he looked at you. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away; it’s about ensuring your safety. You’ll have space, and we’ll keep things as normal as possible.” His promise resonated with you, yet the fear of losing control over your life lingered like a ghost in the back of your mind.

As he parked in the parking garage of the BAU, Hotch turned off the engine, and a heavy silence enveloped you both for a moment. He seemed to sense your apprehension, his eyes softening as they met yours again. “Let’s get you inside,” he said gently, reaching over to squeeze your hand in a gesture that was meant to comfort you.

Stepping out of the car, the chill basement wrapped around you. The cold seemed to seep into your bones. Hotch fell into step next to you as you made your way through the concrete confines of the parking garage, the low hum of distant machinery and flickering fluorescent lights overhead punctuating the silence.

When you finally reached his office, Hotch unlocked and opened the door and gestured for you to step inside. The warm light from the lamp in the corner illuminated the space, softening the sharp edges of his furniture and making it feel a little less foreboding. You walked in, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion as if each step required immense effort. Hotch closed the door behind you.

“Are you hungry or thirsty? I can grab you something,” Hotch offered, concern etched on his features, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied you. He didn't know what he was looking for.

You shook your head slowly, fatigue weighing heavily on your eyelids and limbs. “No, I’m okay. Just… tired.” The admission felt like a weight lifted, but it was also a reminder of how drained you truly were from the emotional turmoil of the night.

“Why don’t you lie down on the couch?” he suggested gently, glancing over at his couch. The soft fabric looked inviting you thought. “It’s been a long night.”

As he moved to grab a blanket from the lower drawer of his desk, you nodded, grateful for the opportunity to rest. The idea of sinking into the softness of the couch felt like a small oasis. At least it was better than nothing. You crawled onto the couch, the gentle fabric cradling you as you settled in, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Hotch returned with the blanket. He draped it over you with a care that spoke volumes. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling the warmth envelop you like a protective cocoon, easing some of the tension that your body still held onto.

He paused for a moment, studying you. You could see the concern carved on his face. “You really should try to get some sleep,” he urged softly, his voice was soothing. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

As he turned to grab some files from his desk, you felt a sudden rush of vulnerability wash over you. You stopped him, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you work while I sleep.”

Hotch turned back to face you, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and you noticed how the tension in his features began to ease as he processed your request. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to have you here,” you replied, settling deeper into the cushions.

“Okay,” he replied, his smile growing warmer and more genuine. He placed the files back down on his desk, the clatter of paper breaking the silence. Then, he took a seat in his chair, he felt close enough that you could still sense his presence without the pressure of conversation.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips before sleep began to pull you under.

“Goodnight."

As you drifted off, Hotch couldn’t help but steal glances at you. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, surrendering to the exhaustion. Your breathing became slow and steady, and for a moment, you almost seemed peaceful despite everything.

His mind raced with thoughts of Branson, and the danger still lurking in the shadows, yet here, in this moment, all he could see was you. He found himself entranced by the way the blanket hugged your form, how your hair fell over your face in soft strands.

As he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, he realized he was completely forgetting the files he had intended to work on. Every time he glanced at you, the contents of the documents seemed to fade into the background. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the serenity of the scene before him.

Hotch found solace in knowing you were safe, even if just for the night. He would do everything in his power to ensure that it stayed that way.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how stiff your body felt, your muscles tight from hours spent curled up on the couch. What had started as a comfortable escape from the night’s events had become a reminder of how unforgiving furniture could be as a resting place. You stretched gingerly, feeling the pull of your sore limbs, each movement was stiff. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking as the soft, golden light of the rising sun filtered in through the large windows on the opposite end of the room.

The office was quiet. You blinked a few times, the world around you coming into focus. The blanket Hotch had given you was still wrapped snugly around your body, providing some form of comfort, if not against last night's event, then at least against the lingering chill in the air.

As you sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced around the office. It felt strange to be here, so close to home yet so far. And somehow still feeling safe within the four walls of Hotch's office. The lamp on his desk was still on, casting a soft glow around it, and you realized he must have stayed nearby the whole night. The thought brought a small smile to your lips, knowing he hadn’t left you to face the fear alone.

Glancing around, you shifted your legs off the couch and stood, still cocooned in the blanket. The office was cold, making you wonder if they turned the AC off during the night, it made you shiver as you padded toward the door in just your socks, your shoes abandoned somewhere by the couch during the night. The quietness of the office felt almost surreal, especially when you were used to the constant sound of keys being tapped, papers being shuffled and phones being answered. You hesitated for a moment with your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wanted to stay hidden away in the relative safety of Hotch's office, but the pull of needing to know what was happening outside, to know if there was any news about your case pushed you forward.

With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The familiar scent of coffee and paper greeted you. The office was mostly still, not a lot of people had shown up for work yet you presumed. As you glanced toward the bridge that overlooked the bullpen, you spotted the lights on in the conference room, telling you the team had presumably already gathered, likely debriefing or strategizing about the night’s events — hopefully.

Your stomach tightened at the thought of joining them — you wanted to know what was going on, yet frightened by the idea that the killings were turning into a sick game on a far larger scale. You lingered for a moment outside of the door, wrapping the blanket tighter around your frame.

But there was a tug in your chest, a need to know. A need to understand what the next steps were. You had been too close to the danger, too close to losing everything, and now the questions that had plagued you all night demanded answers. You took a deep breath and walked toward the conference room.

Your steps were slow and quiet, the soft padding of your socks barely making a sound against the floor. You felt oddly detached from everything around you — groggy, bones achy, and still mentally processing everything.

Through the glass in the door, you caught sight of the team, their expressions grave as they pored over the case files. Papers were scattered in every direction, and from the tense looks on their faces, you could tell they were deep in conversation.

Hotch stood at the head of the table, and though his back was to you, the familiar sight of him, so composed and in control, offered a sense of reassurance. It was strange how someone you didn't really know could be a pillar of strength in a moment when everything around you felt like it was crumbling.

You paused just outside the door, unsure if you should intrude. They were clearly in the middle of something important, and the last thing you wanted was to be a distraction. Exhaustion still clung to you, making your body feel sluggish, your mind slow to fully wake from sleep.

You watched them silently, your mind racing through the events of the previous night. It left a sick feeling in your stomach, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to shake the images away.

A part of you longed to join them in the room, to step into the conversation and hear for yourself what they’d discovered. But another part of you — the part that was bone-tired and emotionally drained — wanted nothing more than to retreat to Hotch’s office, crawl back onto the couch, and hide away from the word in your blanket.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at Hotch. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You knew he was doing everything in his power to keep you safe. For now, that had to be enough — right?

Despite your hesitation, curiosity gnawed at you. You had to know.

With a deep breath, you gently pushed open the door open, hoping to slip inside unnoticed. The conversation sounded intense as you entered, and you instinctively tried to make yourself as invisible as possible, not wanting to disrupt their work. You hovered by the door, watching as they analyzed the spread of documents, their minds already far ahead, piecing together the puzzle of the case.

"The unsub never cared about Branson. He was always after Y/N," Hotch said, his words cutting through the room like a blade. The certainty in his tone made the atmosphere shift. "She was the target from the beginning."

Your body went stiff, a wave of terror washing over you as the meaning of his words hit you. Every muscle tensed, heart hammering in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in around you.

"What?!" The word tumbled out of your mouth, laced with panic. It wasn’t just a question — it was a plea for this to somehow be untrue.

The world slowed for a beat, and as your voice echoed through the room, every head turned toward you. The expressions on their faces mirrored your shock and disbelief, but none of them said a word.

Hotch’s voice cut through the room, sharper and more commanding than you'd expected. “What are you doing up?”

“I just... I wanted to see if you’d figured anything out,” you said quietly, your voice sounding smaller than intended.

"Y/N," Hotch began, his tone much gentler now, "the evidence points to the unsub targeting you specifically. Branson’s murder, the message on your door — it was all meant to scare you, to make you vulnerable."

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying, but the words made your legs feel weak. The killer was after you, not Branson. Everything was about you. A chill ran down your spine as you remembered the blood-soaked message on your front door.

"Why?" you managed to choke out.

Hotch took a step toward you. "We’re still working on the motive, but this isn’t random. Whoever this is... they know you."

You felt like the floor had dropped from beneath you. Your mind raced with the implications — who could possibly be after you like this? Why?

Hotch's eyes never left yours as he carefully laid out the pieces of the profile. "At first, we thought Leah was the target," he explained, his words clear yet heavy. "But it became clear that she was never the unsub’s endgame. Leah was used as a pawn — to isolate you, to send a message, and ultimately to draw you in."

You blinked, struggling to absorb the gravity of his words. The cold, clinical breakdown of Leah's murder felt like a punch to the gut. Leah hadn't just been an innocent victim in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had been killed to get to you. The memory of finding her body at the rink flashed through your mind. It had all seemed so random, so senseless back then.

"Leah’s death was staged for you to find," Hotch continued. "The unsub knew it would devastate you, that it would leave you vulnerable. He needed you emotionally off-balance, unsure of who to trust, and it worked."

"Branson was the last obstacle," Hotch said, his brow furrowing as he pieced everything together. "The unsub knew how close you were to him, how much time you spent together at the pavilion. Branson wasn’t just your coach — he was a fixture in your life, a constant presence. The unsub needed to remove him, to sever any connection that could shield you, completely cut off anyone who might stand in the way between him and you."

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You felt every gaze in the room on you.

"The M.O. has been consistent," Hotch continued, pacing slightly as he spoke. "Each victim, from the very first to Branson, was carefully selected — not randomly, not by coincidence. They were all connected to you. The unsub wasn’t targeting them for who they were, but for what they meant. Branson was just the final step in isolating you."

Your throat tightened, a lump forming as the weight of what he was saying hit you. Every life lost, every crime scene you’d encountered, was part of a sick, calculated plan designed to strip away your safety net. Leah, Branson… they weren’t just victims. They were tools, pieces of a puzzle the unsub had been meticulously constructing around you.

"But why me?" you managed to ask, your voice on the verge of breaking. "Why go through all of this just to get to me?"

Hotch took a deep breath, his expression softening. "We’re still working on the why," he admitted, "but what we do know is that the unsub has a fixation on you. Whether it's personal or something more symbolic, you're the one he want. He's most likely been watching you, planning this for a long time."

Hotch turned back toward the board, the photos of the victims now arranged in a way that made their connection to you painfully obvious. Leah, Branson, and the others — each face staring back at you. "This unsub has one goal — to get to you."

You could feel your legs trembling beneath you. It wasn’t just about being in the wrong place at the wrong time anymore. It had always been about you.

It had always been about you.

When the meeting finally adjourned, you slipped out of the room without a word, unnoticed by the rest of the team. Your feet moved on autopilot, carrying you toward the nearest exit, seeking the open air before you even realized what you were doing. The moment you stepped outside, the cold wind hit you. It cut through the blanket, sending a shiver down your spine, but the chill was a welcome contrast to the suffocating weight pressing on your chest.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as if the pressure might hold you together when everything inside felt like it was unraveling. You pressed your back against the nearest wall, seeking support as your legs threatened to give way beneath you.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through the silence. You opened your eyes to see Hotch stepping toward you. He stopped a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance, his hands buried in his pockets. The quiet between you was heavy, almost tangible as if both of you were waiting for the other to speak first.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice cutting through the air. “You’ve been quiet today. I wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. I know this is a lot to be thrown into, and I can tell that it’s weighing on you.”

“I just…” You hesitated, your voice trembling slightly as you fought to put the emotions into words. Admitting it out loud made it feel more real, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face that. “I can’t help but feel responsible, Hotch. If I had been more aware — if I had paid more attention to what was happening at the rink — maybe I could have prevented something.” Your voice cracked at the end.

“I don’t know how to process this,” you finally admitted, the confession slipping from your lips in a whisper, barely holding back the flood of emotions threatening to spill.

Without hesitation, Hotch stepped closer. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/N,” he said. “You had no way of knowing what was happening. Leah and Branson’s deaths aren’t on you.”

Despite Hotch’s reassurances, the guilt still clung to you. "But I trained with her, I was there, and I missed all the signs. If I had just noticed something — anything — I could’ve helped," you murmured. The image of Leah’s face, her laughter, how she would light up once stepping onto the ice. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had failed her.

Hotch’s expression didn’t waver, but his voice dropped, taking on a more personal tone. "We all miss things sometimes," he said. "Even when we’re right in the middle of it, even when we're trained to see it. Believe me, I know how hard it is not to carry that burden. But you’re here now, and you're helping us piece this together. That's what matters."

You looked away for a moment, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you fought to hold them back. His words were kind, but the pain of losing Leah — and the fear of losing more people you cared about—was still raw.

"I just don’t want to let anyone else down," you whispered, your voice so quiet it barely rose above the wind.

You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you. "You won’t," he said softly. "We’re in this together, Y/N. You’re not alone in this fight."

“None of this is your fault,” Hotch continued. “You've done everything you could to help us, and you’re still here — That’s what matters.”

You nodded, your head moving almost on its own, but inside, the doubt still lingered. The truth of Hotch’s words felt distant, buried beneath the crushing weight of your thoughts. “It just feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,” you murmured, trying to paint him the picture you were experiencing. The words spilled out before you could stop them. There was a tremor in your voice, although small it was undeniable. “And I can’t see what’s below. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“I know what it feels like to be on that edge,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “To feel like the ground’s going to give way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But you’re not standing there alone.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak, but you managed a quiet, “How do you deal with it?”

“You focus on what you can control,” he said finally. “The people you can protect, the steps you can take. And you lean on the people who are there for you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not facing this alone, Y/N. We’re going to stop him. I promise you won’t lose anyone else.”

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. You hadn’t expected his sincerity to reach so deeply, and as it sank in, a strange warmth pulsed through your chest — a stirring that went beyond gratitude. His reassurance should have brought only comfort, but there was something more layered within it, a growing tension between you that you couldn’t ignore, something that had lingered in each shared glance, simmering just below the surface for weeks.

Every word he spoke felt like it drew you in, pulling you into his orbit. It was almost unnerving, the invisible connection weaving between you despite your circumstances. And yet, it also felt steady — something constant amid the whirlwind.

You looked at him, taking in the seriousness in his expression, his posture, the way he seemed so prepared to protect you from anything — and yet also so keenly aware of the risks. The thought made your heart ache.

In this moment, with the two of you standing just inches apart, it felt as though the case had created a connection that you could no longer deny. Every word, every glance between you held a gravity that went beyond the investigation. You saw it in his eyes.

You felt the urge to speak, to break the silence, but the words caught in your throat, held back, like you couldn’t quite articulate what you wanted to say. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, one that seemed to say everything you couldn’t.

Hotch’s hand twitched at his side as if he, too, was grappling with the pull between you, resisting the instinct to reach out. You could feel his restraint, the careful way he held himself, aware that even the smallest movement might tip you both over an invisible line. There was a sense of inevitability, of something that had been building for far too long, yet held back by professionalism.

You watched his breath escape into the cold, hanging between you. For just a heartbeat, his normally guarded expression softened, and in that fleeting vulnerability, you glimpsed something raw, something he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. There was a gentleness beneath the intensity of his gaze, a silent acknowledgment that you weren’t just another civilian to protect, not just a responsibility to bear.

His dark eyes held yours, searching, as though trying to communicate everything that words could never capture. Every second that passed felt like it brought you closer to some uncharted line.

The world beyond the two of you seemed to fade into a blur. It was just the two of you, bound in a space that felt like it could shatter with a breath, yet impossibly strong.

The distance between you shrank, each heartbeat a steady drumbeat against the air. Though the cold nipped at your skin, you could feel the warmth radiating from him, almost magnetic, pulling you closer. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crispness of the air.

“Hotch…” The word slipped from your lips, softer than you’d intended. His gaze held yours, and in it, you saw everything — the worry, the protectiveness, the tension — everything.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding, and almost without realizing it, you leaned just a fraction closer. The smallest movement, but it felt monumental. Hotch’s hand brushed the side of your arm, his touch controlled yet hesitant as if testing the waters. The warmth of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you.

In that brief, suspended moment, it felt like everything you’d been holding back — every unsaid word, every hidden glance, every moment of shared silence — they aligned.

And then — the sharp, intrusive ring of his phone shattered the quiet, piercing through the stillness like an alarm.

In an instant, the spell broke. The warmth between you dissipated, replaced by a jarring awareness of the space you now stood in — the same world you had briefly left behind. Hotch blinked, and you saw his expression shift, the softness in his eyes vanishing as his features hardened, slipping back into the familiar armor of his professionalism. He released your arm, his fingers trailing away, leaving only the faintest sensation of warmth that seemed to fade too quickly.

With practiced efficiency, he pulled the phone from his pocket, glancing down at the screen as his shoulders straightened and his jaw tightened. The moment — fragile and fleeting — was gone as if it had never been, as if the connection you’d felt just seconds before had been nothing more than a daydream.

You exhaled softly, feeling the chill settle over you once more. The air felt colder now, sharper, biting against your skin. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly aware of the emptiness left behind, as Hotch lifted the phone to his ear, his voice low and commanding as he responded.

"Hotchner," He replied as he answered the phone.

Hotch's expression shifted in an instant. He didn’t need to say a word; the two of you moved in sync, instinctively heading toward his car.

“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone commanding but not unkind.

You hesitated for a split second, catching the hint of concern lingering beneath his steely resolve. “Hotch, you know I would have gone either way, right?”

He gave a slight nod. “I know. Which is exactly why you’re coming with me.” His jaw set as he started the engine, adding in a tone just above a murmur, “It’s safer this way.”

As you neared the rink, the darkness in the sky seemed to darken the closer you got, and Hotch’s hands tightened on the wheel. He cast you a sidelong glance, his eyes steady and serious. “Stay close to me. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

You nodded. “Got it. Right beside you.”

He exhaled, his grip on the wheel loosening just a fraction. “Good.”

As you entered the rink, the scene that unfolded felt like stepping into a nightmare. The quiet space was transformed into a tense, chaotic tableau. Clusters of staff and coaches huddled together, their hushed voices forming a low hum that seemed to vibrate with barely restrained fear.

As you moved further in, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the anxiety that clung to the air. Some of the coaches stood with their arms crossed, brows furrowed, watching the crowd as if bracing for more bad news. Others paced nervously, their gazes darting around as though expecting something — or someone — to appear from the shadows any second now. It was as if the entire crowd had been frozen, caught in a collective breath of dread, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hotch’s hand found the small of your back. He leaned in, his voice low. “Keep your eyes sharp. People are scared — they might not even realize what they’ve seen.” Hotch remained close by your side.

“What happened?” Hotch’s voice cut through the anxious murmur that blanketed the rink.

A staff member stepped forward, clearly shaken, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly. He swallowed, struggling to find his voice. “It’s… it’s one of the skaters. They found another body in the locker room. It’s bad… really bad.” Each word was heavy, laden with a gravity that turned the air even colder.

Your heart sank, a coil of dread tightening in your stomach as the realization hit — another life taken, another person lost. You turned to Hotch, locking eyes, the horror in his expression mirroring your own.

“Stay behind me,” Hotch instructed. “I don’t want you to see more than you have to.” His protective tone made it clear he understood the weight of what you were about to witness, even if he wished you didn’t have to. But you knew there was no turning back now; you needed to see this through.

The locker room greeted you with an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the faint hum rink cooling system in the back. The sight before you was haunting. There, sprawled on the cold, tiled floor, lay another skater. Recognition hit you instantly as you took in her familiar features. She was young, barely more than a child, perhaps no older than fifteen or sixteen — just a teenager.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the contrast of her bright skating gear against the dark, glistening pool was a sight too tragic to bear. The vivid hues of her outfit, now lay drowned in a sea of red, her innocence stolen. The room felt as if it were spinning. Every instinct screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself the trauma, yet you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to turn from the horror that lay before you. This wasn’t supposed to happen — you barely even knew this girl — the unsub wasn't supposed to target people you didn't know — or people you knew for the matter.

Hotch’s gaze fell on you, noticing the tremor in your shoulders, the haunted look in your eyes. His concern deepened, and he quickly stepped closer, his hand resting on your arm. “Stay back,” he instructed, his voice firm but soft, gently encouraging you to distance yourself from the scene — he knew you weren't strong enough to continue seeing the horrors for much longer.

But you couldn’t move. It was as though every part of you was chained to the scene before you. You felt a chill creeping over you, a sense that you would never be able to feel safe in the pavilion again.

As the rest of the team arrived, your heart hammered in your chest. Each face that passed, each hurried glance, only served to remind you of the moment, amplifying the dread that had already taken root deep in your bones.

“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded as the rest of the team entered the locker room, his voice cutting through the noise with an authority that brooked no argument. The tone of his command was a jolt to your system, pulling you back to reality as you struggled to comprehend the situation.

“Come on, honey, let’s go take a breath of air,” Emily’s voice was soft but firm, her hands wrapping around your shoulders as she gently steered you out of the locker room. You leaned into her touch, grateful for the solid, presence amid the storm swirling inside you. Each step she guided you felt like a small reprieve from the nightmare.

Emily gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, sensing the weight you carried. “Take your time,” she murmured, her tone was soothing. The ache in your chest pulsed with each heartbeat, and though you felt yourself moving farther from the scene, you knew that the memory of this moment— the sense of loss and helplessness you constantly felt — would stay with you, woven deep into your mind.

Emily led you to the bleachers, where the soft hum of the rink faded into the background. You sank onto a cold metal seat, your mind racing as you grappled with the surreal reality of it all. The icy breath of the arena brought a sharp clarity, but it also deepened the ache in your chest. You had always viewed skating as a sanctuary, a place of beauty and grace, but now it felt tainted, marred by the violence that had infiltrated your world. The camaraderie and support you once cherished seemed distant, replaced by an unsettling feeling of vulnerability.

She guided you to the bleachers. The muted hum of the rink felt like it receded as you sank down onto the cold metal seat — although it still rang in your ears. Emily didn’t speak, just offered a reassuring closeness, as if she understood the depths of your emotions. Deep down, a part of you feared that the pavilion — if not skating all together — wouldn't feel the same ever again.

Tag list:  @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon @sreidlvewrites @jazzimac1967 @gamingfeline @soyobi-wankenobi

[bamdelune]

tears of the condemned .𖥔 ݁ ˖ neuvillette x reader

summary ➜ The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale rarely ever made errors in its judgement, suitable persecution befalling those on the other side of the law. The Iudex of Fontaine was well-aware and familiar with that fact but the Oratrice's final verdict cause his judgement to go sideways, because it involved you.

warnings/tags/notes ➜ the summary is a warning in itself, angst [i never payed much attention to neuvillette but seeing a few fics about him got me to write this heheuehe + info and events might be canon-divergent because i haven't unlocked fontaine yet but hey, i tried my best 🤓☝️]

Neuvillette truly did not understand why so many people sought out Fontanian hearings, as if watching the accused and the persecution go back and forth was an amusing routine incorporated in their daily lives. To the citizens, it seemed like hearings were an elaborate play that they could watch for entertainment instead of a catalyst to serve righteousness. The Chief Justice certainly did not have a taste for it, especially when the audience was filled with hushed chatter about the case today: your case; surprise, you do not play the part of the persecution but you are the accused.

Murder, both you and Neuvillette found it impossible to believe you could committ such an act but as the Iudex, he must learn not to let this cloud his judgement; Neuvillette must not his doubts pass the verdict instead of rationality.

"The evidence presented by the plaintiff shows us that there is no concrete reason to convict the defendant," His eyes catch your form relax, even by just a bit from his statement. "However, as practice, the final verdict will be determined by the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale." Silence fills the Opera Epiclese as the mechanism moves between the scales.

Neuvillette's skin goes cold when the Oratrice has decided your fate.

Guilty.

Gasps erupt inside the opera and your expression is filled with dumbfoundedness. This was not the first time this happened but he's learned to trust the Oratrice's judgement over his own.

But can he truly put aside his bias if it meant getting you out of this predicament? Can he truly cross the law, the one aspect that founded everything that he has done so far.

Your voice rips out from the silence, riddled with desperation as you plead out to him.

"That's—that's not true at all! Monsieur Neuvillette, there must be some kind of mistake!"

Neuvillette clenches his fists, head straining from the thoughts that ran through his mind. He knew there was a mistake, he knew that the Oratrice can go against his own verdict but he's conflicted. Should he let you off scot-free or send you to the depths of Fortress of Merop—

"The judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is the final verdict of the court. We have no choice but to follow through with it. Please take the suspect into custody," his mouth opens before he could even think about anything else. Neuvillette swallows thickly, seeing the defeated look on your face—as if the stale silence of the courthouse gave way to the sounds of your heart shattering into tiny pieces; the heart that he had promised to take care of so sincerely every day and the heart he swore to never toss away.

The Fortress is a place meant for solitude, for the convicted to reflect on their actions but all you could think of was how dark and scary it was in your cell. It was clean for the most part, that you were thankful for but other than that, all sense of time seemed to blur. It was lonely, but being falsely arrested like this by your beloved helped you feel lonelier. You felt empty, almost numb like a hollow glass that threatened to break with a push that was enough to break and Neuvillette crossing your trust like that was the trigger.

Footsteps resound through the corridor outside your place, your head lifts to see him.

"Why are you here?" Neuvillette seems to almost wince at how your voice sounded so... colorless, deprived of the life he's grown to love. You never intended it to come out that way but being in here rarely gave you the privilege of human interactions, "Are you going to set me free, monsieur?"

The Chief Justice opens and closes his mouth, clearly conflicted on what he was going to say next, because what could you say to your (assumingly former) lover whom you just convicted of a murder in front of the public?

"No," he replies, like he's still in court. You dryly chuckle at his response. "Have you come to reprimand me then? That must be it right? The lover of the Iudex of Fontaine, condemned to a life behind bars at the hands of her own beloved, thst must sound terrible to you, yes? Does a number to your honorable image to the people," Your tone gradually turned more bitter at each word knowing the fact that he could've saved you, or at the very least kept you anywhere but here until the evidence and verdict lined up in agreement.

"I care less about my own image, mon chéri—"

Another gasp of a laugh falls from your lips, "Don't. Don't you dare call me that if you will spit such lies in the same breath."

"Would you rather me threaten the sanctity of my title as Iudex?" Neuvillete responds right after, his tone stern and almost to a level of a scream. You would've flinched if you weren't so agitated.

"I wish you would," you mutter under your breath. You were so desperate for authentic justice to be served. Knowing the citizens of Fontaine, this incident would leave a stain on your image. No matter where you'll go, you aren't free from the scrutinizing eyes of the people. Your life will never be the same.

Neuvillette scoffs, "Do you hear yourself? Do you know what you are asking of me?" He was angry now. See, when he gets irritated, Neuvillette is never the type to aggressively express such a feeling but rather, he emits a silent aura that just unsettles you to an extent. But you have to stand your ground.

"Such a selfish request for your circumstances."

Now it's your turn to huff an exhale, hurt gnawing at your chest at every word he spoke.

"Selfish? I'm selfish for asking for justice for a horrendous act of violence both you and I know I never committed?"

Your voice almost gave out under the weight of the sting of your chest, nearly cracking as you raise your voice at him, "You know the Oratrice can make mistakes, Neuvillette—"

"The Oratrice's judgement is absolute, it does not make errors," the man interjects. A beat of silence stays.

"You never believed my words, even for a moment, didn't you?"

Neuvillette swallows, eyes somehow on your face but never on your eyes. He's hyper-aware of the fact that he's hurt you more than enough times he promised not to, never. He always promised that he wouldn't be the one to shatter your heart into tiny pieces and crush them under the soles of his feet. He was the one that vowed to stay by your side amidst the intimidating whispers that talk, talk, and talk about how you would murder an innocent citizen in cold blood. And now he knew.

He had gone back on his word.

It doesn't take him a reply before you started again. "You lied to me," you muttered.

"You're correct, I never believed you for one second," Neuvillette responds, voice low. His mouth opens before he could even think about it.

No. He always would. Over anyone and anything else.

He cringes slightly at this. The Iudex of Fontaine behind closed doors was a complex man. He is built of layers upon layers of emotional concealing, it was never a good thing for him to blatantly open up to someone—but of course, that changed because of you.

"You're foolish to think you could've slipped past the Oratrice's verdict,"

You didn't. He knew that, you did nothing wrong.

"The time has come for you to pay your dues." Neuvillette fronts.

Let me get you out of here. Neuvillette pleads

You fall silent by the tail of his words, barely getting enough courage to look him in the eye. Too much, it was all too much.

"Just—just leave, I don't want to see you," you mumble, defeated. Your eyes catch the way salty tears softly drip onto your clenched fists, wiping your face with the back of your hand. If you were alone in a lonely cell, so be it.

You hear his footsteps hesitate for a moment before they clack away, getting softer and farther with each step.

Heavy rain littered the streets of Fontaine that day.

Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, wipe the tears from your face. Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry.

© bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[magnoliasandarson]

Window Watcher

Bruce Wayne was a man lost, a rudderless ship floating aimlessly in dark water. He left his dinner table like a mourner from a graveside, silently pushing in his chair before walking to the study. The shiny, cheap tinsel mocked him from the banisters, and the portraits of his children on the walls followed him with judgmental glares. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, determined to shut out the damning faces and painfully optimistic decor his son had hung earlier that day.

He found himself at the old grandfather clock, fingers trembling as he moved the hands. It was hard not to think of his parents, of the way they had loved him so openly and joyously. He wondered what his mother would think of the way his children had fled her table, what his father would say about how his son was faring as a father. He didn’t have to think about it long; he knew he was disappointing them both.

The Batcomputer was a technological masterpiece, but it was also a tapestry of his children’s talents and creativity. Dick named it and helped create it, Jason added extremely detailed biographies of villains (more like novels), Tim and Babs (who wasn’t his- but was as good as) fine-tuned it into the marvel it was, Steph and Duke added colorful stickers illustrated by Damian to add ‘a bit of light’, and even Cass had created software. It was a testament to their skill, so it only fit now that Bruce sat down and used facial scanning software to locate them all (bar Damian).

Two pings at the cemetery immediately had his legs tensing to run for his suit. Tim and Jason. The plastic of the mouse under his hand started to give as he saw his boys sitting at the grave of Jason Todd, faces shining in the grainy footage. 

It was ironic, in a horrific and vile way, that he had forced Jason to his grave for a second time. That his inability to see his child as that instead of a rogue soldier was once again costing him everything. He was good at that, chasing off Jason… chasing off any of his children, really. It was strange; Bruce knew he could never stand to be ordered around, could barely tolerate not being the leader on Justice League missions, but his brilliant boy, the child whose fire matched his own- he expected to bend. 

Tim was a pale shadow next to shining stone. Even through grainy footage, Bruce could see the tight lines drawn across his son’s face. He was so serious; he’d always been that way; or that was how Bruce tried to think of his stoic son. If he was being honest with himself, he could recall a much smaller Tim smiling a rare grin as he explained a theory on a case. He could also remember shutting the boy down, ordering him to take his role seriously. The words were poison when they left his mouth; he had spent his entire caped career struggling to separate the mask from Bruce, but he expected a child to stay a vigilante at all times. 

Three separate alerts went off on a cross street seven blocks down from the graveyard; his eldest was blaring his truck horn at the crowd of stragglers stumbling their way through the crosswalk. Dick’s face was red, and he was clearly shouting obscenities, forever an untamable force. He was always so sure of his convictions, so fixated on family. Secretly, or maybe not so secretly, Bruce had become envious of his son- of how he parented the younger kids, of how they went first to him, of how he was passionate in all the ways Bruce was cold. The resentment festered in his chest, cruel and unforgiving. 

The computer chimed again, flicking through channels to land on Duke. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut briefly; the boy might never forgive him. Duke was walking through Gotham, hands jammed in his pockets and eyes trained down, headed towards his old home. All Duke had talked about at breakfast for weeks was how excited he was to have a real Christmas with the family. Bruce had ruined that. The boy was so painfully bright; Duke would have always been made of sunshine even if his abilities weren't light-related. Bruce had never been that way, always too wrapped in his own darkness. There was poetry in Bruce pushing even the boy made of sunlight to walk alone in cold shadow.

The monitor beeped a warning when he tried to switch to the Clocktower. He clicked in his override, determined to at least see if his daughters made it safely there- but a message popped up-

Leave us alone, the birds are staying in the nest tonight.

The screen flashed once, the Oracle insignia, before going black.

Bruce was left staring at his reflection in the dark monitor. He could see it, his father’s face, in his own. Could see the gentle man that always had an open hand and ridiculous joke. He remembered his father in excruciating detail, the stories he’d narrated with funny voices, the detective shows they watched together, the games that would always end in laughter. In Bruce’s memory, Thomas Wayne didn’t have nearly as many stress lines as his son currently did. 

His eyes glimmered in the warped image, and he dragged his palms over his face. His eyes were Martha’s; they had always been so loving. She had always looked at him like he was something precious, something worth caring for. He had never once doubted how much his mother loved him. He had never once felt unsafe in her arms.

He wondered, now, if any of his children thought of him with similar fondness. He doubted it.

Squaring his shoulders, he stood from the computer and bellowed for Robin to report for patrol.

There was always next year.

[robin-the-enby]

Black butler Ciel with a older sister who rather spend more time reading, writing, spend time in her imagination, or her own self interests than run the company. She has her own business of running a successful book series.

Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive x older sister!reader Warnings: mentions of past trauma (not descriptive) A/N: Thank you very much for the ask and, as usual, I'm so sorry for the delay. If you don't mind, I decided to write this as headcanons. Also, the relationship between Ciel and the reader is strictly platonic. I have decided that I will not write romantic Ciel works anymore, because he's a child. And while I did have a crush on him when we were the same age, I have moved on and it would be highly inappropriate, I believe.

I think it's safe to say that you are very important to Ciel. You are his last living relative after all.

It doesn't matter if you're close or not. I don't think Ciel would appear to want to be close to anyone, even a relative. But that isn't really the case.

Now, he's definitely not clingy. He's self-sufficient, maybe a little too much. He definitelly doesn't need to rely on you.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't like to spend time with you. On the contrary. And since you are the quiet type, it makes spending time together much more comfortable for him.

He would be the type of person to do his own thing and let you do your own, just...in the same space. He could be sorting paperwork in his office, but you would be there as well, just a few meters away from him, scribbling down in a notebook on drawing in your sketchbook.

It's comfortable, it's quiet, and it means the world to him. If he looks past the age difference (and that little voice that tells him that maybe your roles should be exchanged), he almost feels normal. And that type of peace is very rare in his life, so he takes any and every chance to spend time with you like this.

It was very strange to him though, mostly at first, when he returned to the mansion. The way you are so different. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you have no interest in the family company, or that you rather spend time in your own head than in th real world.

He does get the appeal of that, it's just that he thinks it's...foolish. He is a logical person, who always thinks ahead, to rule out any possibility of others taking advantage of him again. If he submitted to the luxury of running away from the past that still haunts him, he would achieve nothing.

But the more time he spends with you and the more he integrates himself back into the regular world (as regular as it can be for him at least), he sees that you're many things, but not foolish. Yes, you're a dreamer, perhaps a bit naive, but not stupid.

In the end, he prouds himself to be your brother. You have a great imagination and sometimes you help him more than you could imagine. If he has a case to solve, you help give him an outside look into things from a perspective he could never even imagine.

He appreciates your art as well. It would depend on your style and whether or not you were spared the torture he went through to determine how much, but he definitely appreciates it and thinks it's beautiful. If your style is a form of self presentation, translation of your shared traumas and deepest feelings, he might like it just a smidge more.

When you present the idea of publishing your own book, he is definitely on board. He likes to read your stories anyway, he can't see why others wouldn't enjoy it. He would definitely help you find the best publisher and arrange the best deal for you (with a little help from Sebastian, if needed).

When your book becomes a hit in London and the readers as well as critics start asking for a sequel, he feels proud. Proud of himself, for helping you make your dream come true, but mostly proud of you. For not conforming to expectations of others, who would assume you'd take over the Phantomhive company, but instead following your dreams and working hard to make them come true. It is that kind of strength he really admires. But of course, he knows how the world works and so he thinks his help was neccesary (and would continue to be in the future).

In the end, you have sort of a symbiotic relationship. Whenever you need anything for your work, Ciel gets it for you. Art supplies, sketchbooks, he can get you anything and you best believe it'll be in the best quality as well. He also helps you make deals with potential publishers or anyone who is interested in your work, making sure no one tries to scam you and that you get the most benefits from your labour.

In return, he asks for nothing. You already give him everything he needs from you. Your company. He gladly takes on the task of managing the family business, if it means that you can still sit by him in his study, scribbling away, as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Time for another dive into the code! This time we're doing Warm, Moderate, and Cold Cove again, but for the transition between Step 2 to 3 instead of 1 to 2.

As a refresher to those who might not remember the original post talking about how it works from Step 1 to 2:

When making certain decisions in how you interact with Cove, the game will give you either warm points or cold points. These points are calculated at the end of the step to determine whether your Cove in the following Step will be warm, moderate, or cold. If you have more cold than warm points, the game will only use the cold ones, and same for having more warm than cold points. The points not used are essentially "thrown away."

A "warm" Cove is friendlier to others and cracks more jokes, a "moderate" Cove is closest to his Step 1 self, and a "cold" Cove is quieter and more blunt. They all interact with the MC similarly, except a warm Cove is more likely to tease the MC and not be as dependent while a cold Cove is more likely to side with/cling to them. His relationships with others will still be similar regardless of whether he's "warm," "moderate," or "cold," but how he expresses himself in those relationships may be different.

The warm-to-cold variation is a spectrum that goes from Warm, Warm-Moderate, Moderate, Cold-Moderate, and Cold. There is no Warm Cove who will do Cold Cove things and vice versa. With Warm-Moderate and Cold-Moderate, the idea is that you have a mostly Warm/Cold Cove respectively but with some mild variation.

There is a variable for "moderate" points in the game's code, but it goes unused in the game itself, meaning that a moderate Cove is more of a "default." If you were to go from the start of Step 1 and immediately to the end without doing any moments, that would be the best way of getting a "moderate" Cove. Engaging in moments is more likely to make your Cove warm/cold, so if you've played the game a lot and always go through a lot of moments without using the Cove Creator to change his personality, you could get a Moderate Cove for a potentially different experience.

In terms of the rules on how to get a warm/cold Cove, it varies. If the MC calls Cove out, teases him, includes/talks about other people, and encourages Cove to be more outgoing or do new things, he's more likely to be warm. Taking Cove's side, being protective of him, speaking up for him rather than letting him do it himself, and keeping things between him and the MC is more likely to make him cold. It's not a one-size-fits-all situation though, as a shy MC could make Cove warm because he's being encouraged to defend you whereas leaving Cove all by himself could make him cold.

Regardless of whether he's Warm, Moderate, or Cold, Cove will remain a sentimental introvert who gets flustered over romance.

Cove's appearance has nothing to do with whether he's warm/moderate/cold barring the rare cases where a choice might happen to overlap with it.

In terms of new information from Step 2 to 3 specifically, I'll say right away that whether your Step 2 Cove is already warm, moderate, or cold doesn't matter nor factor into how your Step 3 Cove turns out. All that matters is how you treat him in Step 2.

In addition, the point calculation works differently. In Step 1, having no more than 11 points in either Cold or Warm will give a Moderate Cove, having 12-19 points in either Cold or Warm will give a Cold-Moderate/Warm-Moderate Cove (depending on which you have more points in), and having 20 or more points will give a fully Cold/Warm Cove.

Also, if your points are tied, the game would "flip a coin" to decide whether it will opt for the cold or warm points.

However, Step 3 has more variation (well, not technically, but we'll talk about that later), first by making it even harder to get a Moderate Cove.

You only need 5 or more points in either warm/cold points to be locked out of a fully Moderate Cove (as a fully Moderate Cove would be 0-4 points). 5-9 will get you a slightly warm/cold Cove (we'll call this Moderate-Warm and Moderate-Cold for convenience), 10-14 or 15-19 (the game does two checks for this for some reason) will get you a Warm-Moderate or Cold-Moderate Cove, and having 20 or more will get you a fully Warm/Cold Cove as before.

In the case of a tie in points, the game will not do a "coin flip" anymore and will instead default to cold points.

One odd thing I will note (this wasn't relevant in the original post where I talked about Step 1->2) is that the Cove Creator actually sets some default cold/warm points as you pick the various buttons for Cove's personality.

The button on Warm gives 20 warm points and 10 cold points (again, these cold points are "thrown away" because the game only cares about what you have more of), the button between Warm and Moderate gives 12 warm points and 6 cold points, the button on Moderate gives 6 warm points and 6 cold points, the button between Moderate and Cold gives 6 warm points and 12 cold points, and the button on Cold gives 10 warm points and 20 cold points. These are the same points applied in any step where you can use the Cove Creator to change Cove's personality.

Now, did you catch something there?

Due to how Step 3 changed how few points are needed to lock you out of Moderate Cove (only 5 or more), it's actually impossible to get a fully Moderate Cove using the Cove Creator to change his personality. It will give you 6 warm points and 6 cold points, which will default to the 6 cold points due to the "coin flip" removal, thus giving you a Moderate-Cold Cove.

You can actually test this yourself if you have a save at the Step 3 Cove Creator. Set Cove's personality to "Moderate" and skim through the intro narration until it starts talking about Cove's family, right here:

Cove's relationships with his family improved over the years. Kyra visited several times after that summer, and things became easier between the two.

He was also closer with his dad than ever before. You knew they talked more, and that helped prevent a lot of friction before it could start.

If you had a fully Moderate Cove, you would get one of two follow-up narrations depending on if your Step 2 Cove was warm/warm-moderate/cold-moderate/cold or fully moderate.

if Warm/Warm-Moderate/Cold-Moderate/Cold in Step 2:

Cove's personality, however, drifted back to how it was in the past. He was pretty blunt and not overly social, but he had plenty to say when he felt like it.

if Moderate in Step 2:

Cove's personality, however, was recognizable from the past. He was pretty blunt and not overly social, but he had plenty to say when he felt like it.

You won't get this narration if you chose Moderate from the Cove Creator. Instead, you would get one of these:

if Warm/Warm-Moderate/Moderate in Step 2:

However, Cove grew into someone no one would call 'social'. He kept to himself, usually. He cared for the few connections he did have, but didn't reach outside them.

if Cold-Moderate/Cold in Step 2:

However, Cove still wasn't what anyone could call 'social'. He kept to himself, usually. He cared for the few connections he did have, but didn't reach outside them.

I actually checked just to make absolutely certain that I was on the latest version of Our Life (1.7.1) and I am. It seems that in the process of trying to give more variation to Cove's personality (or just making Moderate more unlikely), the Cove Creator was left out of the equation. I'd be curious to know if this happens on older versions.

Further puzzling is that I was going to list multiple examples to show the difference between Warm/Warm-Moderate/Moderate-Warm and Moderate-Cold/Cold-Moderate/Cold (similar to what I did in the last post for Step 2 Cove), but the thing is that I could not find any.

I searched and scanned through the code in an attempt to call upon any instance where it would check for a Warm-Moderate/Moderate-Warm or Moderate-Cold/Cold-Moderate Cove specifically, and in every case the game considered them to be fully Warm and fully Cold respectively.

In other words, whereas in Step 2 you had Warm, Warm-Moderate, Moderate, Cold-Moderate, and Cold Cove, Step 3 seems to stick to a strict Warm/Moderate/Cold Cove with no in-betweens. If anyone has any evidence to the contrary then by all means, message/toss me an ask, but I couldn't find anything to suggest otherwise.

This also makes Moderate Cove the hardest to get since you would need to actually achieve it in-game by avoiding warm/cold points as much as possible. Even just going through the Step 2 intro and ending only, I don't even think you could avoid being locked out of Moderate Cove if you're playing on Fond/Crush.

Getting back to the topic of choices though, here are the options themselves that'll give you warm/cold points throughout Step 2:

Step 2 Intro

After Cove comes by to deliver the fruit bouquet (Fond/Crush only):

"Thank you!" [warm +1]

"Thanks." [warm +1]

"You are too cute sometimes." [cold +1]

When Jeremy is complaining about his parents:

You kept quiet. [cold +1]

"You shouldn't talk about your parents like that." [warm +1]

"Sorry. It must suck being forced to do something you don't want." [warm +1]

"We just said hello. You don't have to keep complaining at us." [cold +1]

"Calm down. You don't have to yell so much." [cold +1]

"Who peed in your cereal this morning?" [warm +1]

When Jeremy mocks Cove's eyebrows:

"What?" [no change]

"No! Cove's wavy eyebrows are so cool!" [warm +1]

"How can you say that when you've got a bowl cut?" [warm +1]

"Don't listen to him. They're really unique and special." [cold +1]

"Well, they are kind of silly." [warm +1]

"Apologize to Cove right now. You can't treat people like that." [cold +1]

(immediately following above choice):

You just rolled your eyes. [warm +1]

You crossed your arms over your chest. [cold +1]

You shook your head. [warm +1]

You patted Cove on the shoulder. [cold +1]

You lunged towards Jeremy! [no change]

You grinned at all of this. [warm +1]

When Derek points out the fruit bouquet once Jeremy is gone:

"I need to save it." [cold +1]

"Why not? Let's eat." [warm +1] {note that the skewers will change Step 3 Cove's left wristwear: pineapple or strawberry will take it off, grape will give him the black wristband, and melon will give him the chain bracelet and beaded wrap bracelet with the jewel}

When Elizabeth shows up to confront the MC over the fruit bouquet (if the MC chose to eat it with Derek and Cove):

"Sorry, Elizabeth..." [warm +1]

"Get over it." [warm +1]

"Well, the morning's been kind of a disaster!" [cold +1]

"We were hungry?" [cold +1]

"It wasn't us. A seagull came down and ate it all while we weren't looking!" [warm +1]

When Derek and Cove try to make an escape from Elizabeth:

You ran! [cold +1]

You stayed. [warm +1]

After Cove sneaks into the MC's room (Fond/Crush only):

"What are you doing?" [warm +1]

"What's up, Romeo?" [warm +1]

"This sure is a surprise, but you're always welcome here." [cold +1]

"Is everything okay? What happened?" [cold +1]

"You're lucky I didn't start screaming." [cold +1]

"Amazing. My dreams have come true." [warm +1]

(following above scene) When Cove vents about being upset over his situation with his parents:

"There's nothing wrong with feeling bad. That is hard to deal with." [cold +1]

"We can deal with this." [warm +1]

"I'm sorry, Cove. You know I'm here for you." [warm +1]

"Yeah, that's... a lot." [cold +1]

You didn't know what to say. [warm +1]

(following above scene) After Cove asks if he can stay longer in MC's room:

"You can stay tonight, but we shouldn't make a habit of this." [warm +1]

"I've got a flashlight and some cards. Are you in?" [warm +1]

"Of course. You can always stay here, Cove." [cold +1]

(following above scene) When the MC realizes that Cove has stayed the night in their room:

"Cove!" [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

○ You laughed quietly. [warm +1]

○ You laughed loudly. [cold +1]

○ "Are you okay?" [warm +1]

○ You helped him up. [cold +1]

○ "Shhh! My moms are gonna hear us." [warm +1]

You laughed out loud. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

○ You laughed even more. [cold +1]

○ "Are you okay?" [warm +1]

○ You helped him up. [cold +1]

○ "Shhh! My moms are gonna hear us." [warm +1]

You jumped out of bed. {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

○ You whispered in his ear. [cold +1]

○ You shook his shoulder. [warm +1]

○ You poked him in the face.

○ You tugged at his hair.

○ You threw a pillow at him.

You froze. {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

○ You whispered in his ear. [cold +1]

○ You shook his shoulder. [warm +1]

○ You poked him in the face. [no change]

○ You tugged at his hair. [no change]

○ You threw a pillow at him. [no change]

(following above scene) After Cove realizes that he'd fallen asleep and tries (fails) to calm down:

"It's going to be alright." [warm +1]

"We're going to be in so much trouble!" [cold +1]

"Just calm down." [warm +1]

"Settle down, before moms hear you." [cold +1]

You didn't say anything. [warm +1]

(following above scene) As Cove is trying to sneak out back to his house:

You wished him luck. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You rallied him to keep going. [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You suggested he sneak out the door instead. {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You urged him to hurry up. {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

When Kyra asks the MC if they have any restaurant recommendations:

You shrugged. [cold +1] {note that this will give Step 3 Cove the spiky hair}

"Not really." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 3 Cove the middle-parted hair}

"Sure, I have a couple of favorites." [no change]

You nodded. [no change]

When Cove is sulking near the end of the outing with Kyra:

You made a silly face at him. [warm +1]

You smiled at him. [cold +1]

You gave him a sympathetic look. [cold +1]

You flicked his straw wrapper at him. [warm +1]

You left him alone. [cold +1]

Wave

Fond/Crush routes only

When Cove asks the MC if they want to come down to the beach:

"Sure! I'll meet you there when we're done." [cold +1]

"Oh- yeah, I could do that..." [cold +1]

"Alright." [warm +1]

"I can't this time." [warm +1]

After MC meets with Cove on the beach:

"I wouldn't have missed it." [cold +1]

"Sorry you had to wait." [warm +1]

"And stay inside all day? I don't think so." [warm +1]

If the MC brought a board with them to the beach:

"Cove, I'm not that good at surfing." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"I borrowed this board, but I don't know how to surf..." (if the MC is inexperienced at surfing) [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

"I'm ready to get in there." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"Wanna have a competition?" (if the MC is experienced at surfing) [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"Will you give me some tips?" [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

If the MC didn't bring a board with them to the beach:

{note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"What am I supposed to do while you surf?" [cold +1]

"I'll stay here and watch you surf." [warm +1]

"I'm going to find something to do while you surf." [cold +1]

After Cove jokes about clothespins if the MC went surfing with him (not for competition) and got into a splash fight with him:

"That was terrible on any scale." [warm +1]

"Please don't." [warm +1]

"You're adorable." [cold +1]

"I'm not sure that even counts as a pun." [cold +1]

"I love it." [warm +1]

If the MC chose to stay on shore and watch Cove surf:

You continued to watch quietly. [warm +1]

You started cheering him on after a really cool wave. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You shouted at him to remember to pace himself. [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You did an impression of a sports announcer. {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You made a silly face when he looked back at you. [cold +1]

(following above choice) After Cove checks on the MC:

"I've found ways to entertain myself." [cold +1]

"It's been fun." [warm +1]

"Eh, I'm just a little bored." [cold +1]

"This was totally radical, dude." [warm +1]

"I couldn't take my eyes off of you." (if Crush) [cold +1]

(following above choice) When Cove tells the MC that he likes them being there:

You teased him. [warm +1]

You smiled. [cold +1]

You looked away. [cold +1]

When Cove imitates Jeremy (if the MC chose to go with him to the park):

"Ha ha." [warm +1]

"Don't scare me like that! One Jeremy is enough." [cold +1]

"That's not really nice. Funny, but not nice." [warm +1]

"You don't have to tease him." [warm +1]

"Ugh, parents don't know anything." [cold +1]

(following above) After the conversation with Cove starts winding down:

"We better get home." [warm +1]

"I wish days were longer." [cold +1]

You chose not to say anything. [warm +1]

Growing

When the MC greets Cove when he arrives at their house (Fond/Crush only):

With a wave. [cold +1]

With a low five. [warm +1]

With a nudge to the shoulder. [cold +1]

With a noogie. [warm +1]

With a hug. [cold +1]

After Cove explains why he's come over (Fond/Crush only):

You thought that was really sweet. [warm +1]

"How'd you know I was doing nothing? Maybe I had plans." [warm +1]

You nodded. That made sense to you. [cold +1]

"I was thinking the exact same thing." [warm +1]

When Cove admits that he hasn't eaten: (Fond/Crush only):

"Yeah, I get like that sometimes too." [no change]

"You should really eat properly." [no change]

"You didn't eat at all? Then you gotta have something now!" [cold +1]

"Great! We can eat lunch together." [warm +1]

During the second pause of tic-tac-toe or hangman when Cove complains about feeling stuck to the floor:

"I'll have to charge you rent then." [warm +1]

"You can be my new roomie if you want." [cold +1]

"Looks like we'll both be stuck here forever then. I'm sticky too." [warm +1]

"No way. I'll peel you off if I have to." [cold +1]

You just smiled at his whining. [cold +1]

During the third pause of tic-tac-toe or hangman when Cove wonders where the game's name came from:

"Maybe they named it that because people played it with tics and tacks."/'"Maybe it's what they had instead of real court trials back then." [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"I've always wondered about that..." [warm +1]

"I'll have to look it up later." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

"It's a really old game. No one's sure where the name came from." [cold +1]

After the MC played tic-tac-toe with Cove (Indifferent/Fond):

You laughed along with Cove. [warm +1]

"Well, you should've taken the challenge more seriously." [warm +1]

"You're the one who wanted to play in the first place." [cold +1]

"I'm still the winner and you're the loser!" (if the MC won) [warm +1]

"I let you win, actually." (if Cove won) [cold +1]

You shook your head at him. [cold +1]

After the MC's initial reaction to Cove's hangman phrase (Crush only):

You didn't say anything. [cold +1]

"No, you're cute!" [cold +1]

"...Thank you." [cold +1]

"I can't believe you!" [warm +1]

"Damn, Cove." [warm +1]

You just let out a small squeak. [warm +1]

(following above choice):

"I really think you're cute. Seriously." [warm +1]

"Did you mean it? Do you really think I'm cute?" [cold +1]

You didn't say anything. [warm +1]

After Cove talks about how he thinks their talk about romance has been good (Fond/Crush only):

"I think so too." [cold +1]

You shrugged. [cold +1]

"It was awkward." [cold +1]

"The conversation had a mind of its own." [warm +1]

You just nodded quietly. [warm +1]

After Cove comments that he loves it out on the poppy hill (Fond/Crush only):

"I do too." [no change]

"You do? That's surprising," you said jokingly. [warm +1]

"Your opinion sure has changed since you were first on this hill." [warm +1]

You quietly enjoyed the moment. [cold +1]

After Cove says that he's glad to have met the MC (Fond/Crush only):

You blushed at the statement. [warm +1]

"I feel the same." [warm +1]

"That's so nice of you to say." [warm +1]

You smiled silently. [cold +1]

"You're being too sweet!" [cold +1]

"You're special to me, Cove." [cold +1]

Family

After Cove comes into the home and notes the awkwardness (if the MC stayed with their moms):

You laughed. [warm +1]

You wiped your eyes. [warm +1]

You smiled at him. [cold +1]

You shook your head in answer. [cold +1]

When the MC can talk to Cove about what happened, if the MC stayed with their moms (Fond/Crush only):

"There's a lot going on right now." [warm +1]

"It's nothing..." [cold +1]

You didn't speak to him. [cold +1]

"I needed to talk to you." (if the MC visited Cove) [warm +1]

"Thank you for coming... I'm glad you're here." (if the MC went to their room or outside) [cold +1]

"My parents are dead!" (if the MC asked about their adoption story) [warm +1]

(following after above choice)

"You don't have to do this." [cold +1]

"I'm okay..." [warm +1]

You closed the distance and hugged him." (only if Cove did not hug the MC; this happens if the MC doesn't have enough "touch points") [no change]

You started to cry. [warm +1]

You took a step back from him. [cold +1]

If the MC is participating in Lee's idea and Cove comments on it (Fond/Crush only):

"Thanks." [warm +1]

"I was pretty good, huh?" [warm +1]

You blushed and said nothing. [cold +1]

"Luckily we had a crowd who's easily impressed." [cold +1]

Dinner

When Cove asks the MC the first time if they want to come over for dinner:

"Yeah, I'll go." [cold +1]

"I can't." [no change]

You kept listening. [warm +1]

When Cove asks the MC the second time if they want to come over for dinner:

"Yeah, I can come." [warm +1]

"I'll have to ask my moms and get back to you." [cold +1]

"No, I can't make it."

○ "Sorry." [no change]

○ "Alright, I'll go." [cold +1]

"Why am I the only one invited? Or did you mean the whole family?"

○ "I can't. Sorry." [warm +1]

○ "Alright, I'll go." [warm +1]

After the MC looks around Cove's room (only if they haven't been in Cove's room before):

"Are you trying to make your own beach with all this sand?" [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"It's nice." [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

"Thanks for letting me come over." [warm +1]

You weren't sure what to do. [cold +1]

When the MC chooses where to sit/not to sit and Cove raises his eyebrows at them (Crush only):

You were nervous about that. [warm +1]

You smiled comfortingly at him. [cold +1]

You chuckled over it. [warm +1]

You felt very charmed by his reaction. [cold +1]

(following immediately after above choice):

You only shrugged back. [warm +1]

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." [cold +1]

"You're like an open book, you know that?" [cold +1]

"You're such a sweet guy, Cove." [warm +1]

"You're adorable!" [cold +1]

When Cove asks if the MC wants to name a fish (Fond/Crush only):

"Yeah, I do!" [warm +1]

"Can I?" [cold +1]

"No thanks." {note that this will give Cove the thin rectangular blue glasses}

When the MC has the opportunity to ask if they can name a fish (Indifferent only):

"Can I name a fish?" [warm +1]

You kept quiet. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove the thin rectangular blue glasses}

When Cove comments on how it seems unfair that the MC can't have pets at their house:

"Right? My moms can be strict over the weirdest things sometimes!" [warm +1]

"I don't mind it too much." [no change]

"I get it." [cold +1]

After Cove talks about how humiliating the deal was for him (if MC told Cove about the deal in Step 1):

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Cove." [cold +1]

"Then I'm sorry, since I'm gonna bring it up forever." [cold +1]

"Yeah, I get why that'd be embarrassing." [warm +1]

You laughed. [warm +1]

You stayed quiet. [no change]

if the MC has either told Cove about the deal in Sandcastle or did not bring up the deal now in Dinner

When the MC is given the opportunity to question Cove on why they're there:

"Is there a reason they wanted me to come over tonight?" [warm +1]

You kept quiet. [no change]

After Mr. Holden thanks the MC for coming:

You thanked Cove's parents back for inviting you. [no change]

You didn't say anything to that. [no change]

You just felt awkward about the situation. [cold +1]

When there's a lull in conversation during dinner:

You brought up your own topic of conversation. [cold +1]

You left coming up with a conversation topic to them. [warm +1]

After Cove is denied having an immediate sleepover with the MC (Fond/Crush only):

You gave him some words of encouragement. [cold +1]

You patted him on the back. [cold +1]

"Pst, I'll sneak the phone into my room tonight." [warm +1]

"Hey, you could always sneak into my room again." [warm +1]

You pouted about it too. [cold +1]

if the MC chose to tell Cove about the deal here in Dinner instead of anything else

After Cove storms out of the room:

You immediately followed after Cove. [cold +1]

You just stood there. [warm +1]

After Cove and the MC head to the MC's living room:

"Are you okay?" [warm +1]

"What do you want to do now?" [warm +1]

"I'm really sorry Cove." [cold +1]

"You did the right thing by leaving." [cold +1]

"Do you want to be doing this?" [cold +1]

You said nothing. [warm +1]

After the MC listens to Cove vent about his dad's behavior:

You continued to listen quietly. [warm +1]

"I'm sorry you have to deal with all that." [warm +1]

"You're right, that's terrible." [cold +1]

"It could be worse." [cold +1]

"Even if it didn't go well, your dad's only trying to make you happy." [cold +1]

When Cove laments the idea that he might not've been friends with the MC due to his dad (Fond/Crush only):

You stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. [cold +1]

You hugged him. [warm +1]

You smiled reassuringly. [warm +1]

You wiped his tears. [cold +1]

(following immediately after above choice):

"I'm really glad we got to be friends." [warm +1]

"Please don't cry." [warm +1]

"Hey, don't worry about it. Alright?" [warm +1]

You didn't need to say anything. [cold +1]

"I wouldn't have let anything your dad -or anyone else- did mess things up." [cold +1]

After Cove insults his dad's inability to make people happy:

"I'm really sorry." [cold +1]

"You don't actually mean what you're saying." [cold +1]

"Do you hate your dad?" [warm +1]

"I'm here for you." (Fond/Crush only) [cold +1]

You felt bad that things were so hard for Cove and his dad. [warm +1]

You didn't say anything. [cold +1]

(following after above choice):

"What about your fish?" [cold +1]

"I remember that day, when it happened." [warm +1]

(following after above choice):

"Your dad still needs to stop being so forceful, though." [cold +1]

"You might feel better than you do if you tried to make up with your dad." [warm +1]

"You guys really need to learn how to communicate." [warm +1]

"I'll be on your side no matter what you do about your dad." (Fond/Crush only) [cold +1]

You stayed quiet. [no change]

When the MC is deciding what they can do for Cove to help him:

"Do you want me to turn the TV on?" [cold +1]

"Do you want something to eat? Or drink?" [cold +1]

You listened to whatever he wanted to say. [warm +1]

You stayed with him silently. [warm +1]

Road Trip

After Elizabeth teases Cove and the MC about getting married:

You told her to cut it out already. [cold +1]

"Cove has a point. It wasn't a great comment." [warm +1]

"I'll marry you, Cove." [warm +1]

You ignored Elizabeth. [cold +1]

You were embarrassed. [warm +1]

"I'll marry Cove on the same day Shiloh's mom marries Cove's dad." (if the MC joked about Cove's dad marrying Shiloh's mom in Long Day) [cold +1]

When the MC takes a good look at Cove wearing a jacket (Crush only):

You averted your gaze from him entirely. [warm +1]

"Yeah, don't worry about it." [no change]

"You look good - in the jacket. That's all..." (if Nervous) [cold +1]

"That looks nice on you." (if Relaxed) [warm +1]

"You just look so good right now." (if Direct) [warm +1]

"Yeah. Everything is really good." [no change]

You nodded while saying nothing. [no change]

After Cove panics and says "Nothing!" if the MC asks what he likes seeing others wear (Fond/Crush only):

That was funny. [warm +1]

You paid it no mind. [no change]

(following above choice):

It was a topic that made him uncomfortable, so you let it go. [cold +1]

You had a little fun and that was enough. You changed the subject. [no change]

"You're not very good at these conversations, are you?" [no change]

"I swear I won't make fun of you." [warm +1]

"I just thought it would be fun to talk about..." [cold +1]

(following above choice) After Cove admits he likes seeing people wear ankle bracelets:

"Thanks for answering." [warm +1]

"I like them too." [no change]

"Huh, out of everything in the world, you picked that." [no change]

"So you think they're sexy?" [cold +1]

When the MC is in the loft and sees that Cove is still awake (Fond/Crush only):

You grinned back at him. [cold +1]

You made a silly face. [no change]

You waved at him. [warm +1]

When Cove laments his actions sleeping over if Sleepover happened and if the MC invited him up to the loft (Fond/Crush only):

You encouraged him. [warm +1]

You comforted him. [cold +1]

You teased him. [no change]

When Cove starts getting nervous after the MC has invited him up to the loft (Crush only):

You were feeling the nervousness too. [warm +1]

You felt comfortable being so close to him. [no change]

His reaction made you happy. [cold +1]

(following above choice):

You laid there silently. [no change]

You tried to ease things with conversation. [no change]

You nudged closer to him. [warm +1]

You touched his free arm lightly. [cold +1]

(following above choice, only if the MC chose to try and kiss Cove):

You laughed. [warm +1]

You just tried to check on him. [cold +1]

Mall

When the MC notices Cove and Derek in conversation:

You decided to keep listening. [no change]

You decided to join in with the conversation. [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You couldn't resist teasing the boys." (if Relaxed/Direct) [cold +1]

When Kyra gives Cove the passenger seat:

You decided to stick up for Cove. [cold +1]

You decided to jokingly complain at the special treatment. [warm +1]

You were fine with that. [warm +1]

You kept quiet. [cold +1]

After Kyra leaves, leaving the MC and their group alone:

You were happy about it. Talk about an amazing opportunity! [warm +1]

You felt unsure about the situation. Was this really ok? [warm +1]

You felt okay about the situation. [cold +1]

You were unhappy about it. This was not what you'd had in mind. [cold +1]

If the MC hasn't brought money to the mall (meaning the others will offer to pay):

You accepted their offers readily. [cold +1]

You'd let them know if you really needed it. [warm +1]

You rejected the offer right up front. [warm +1]

If the MC asks Cove for a sip of his smoothie (Fond only):

You pushed a little more. [no change]

You jokingly begged him. [cold +1]

You waited for him to decide on his own. [warm +1]

If the MC asks Cove for a sip of his smoothie (Crush only):

You decided to let it go. [cold +1]

You teased him. [warm +1]

You reassured him. [no change]

After Derek races off to check out the ride-on machines:

You thought his idea was childish. [cold +1]

You wanted to ride too. [no change]

You didn't care one way or another. [no change]

You stayed quiet about it. [warm +1]

Once the MC gives Cove the windchime (if they chose to get one for him):

You talked about how he seemed to want it. [warm +1]

You suggested that the chime simply made you think of him. [cold +1]

You explained that since his family did kind things for yours, you wanted to return the favor. / You explained that Cove had given you gifts and you wanted to get him something in return. [cold +1]

You didn't know what to say. / You didn't know what to say now. [warm +1]

Birthday

While the MC waits for activities to start:

You tried to chat with the people around. [warm +1]

You just talked with Cove. [cold +1]

You found a quiet spot to sit. [warm +1]

You just stood around where you were. [cold +1]

When the activities begin and Cove wonders what's going to happen:

You shrugged. [cold +1]

You scanned the area to make a guess. [cold +1]

You made a joke about something that wasn't going to happen. [warm +1]

If the MC wins pin the tail on the donkey:

You were humble about it. [cold +1]

You felt bashful over winning. [warm +1]

You reveled in the win. [warm +1]

(following above choice):

You offered to share the candy with Cove. [cold +1]

You kept the prize for yourself. [warm +1]

If Cove wins pin the tail on the donkey:

{note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You congratulated Cove. [cold +1]

You were disappointed you didn't win. [warm +1]

You were really impressed with his win. [warm +1]

You shrugged the game off. [cold +1]

You teased Cove. [warm +1]

"You looked cute." [warm +1]

(following after above choice):

You asked if he'd be willing to share the prize. [warm +1]

You didn't ask. [cold +1]

If neither the MC nor Cove won pin the tail on the donkey:

You were also disappointed. [cold +1]

"It was a good game." [warm +1]

You shrugged it off. [cold +1]

You teased him. [warm +1]

If the MC chooses to wear a crown/headband:

"I'm a party animal now." [warm +1]

"It does look very good on me, thanks." [no change]

"I don't know why I'm doing this." [cold +1]

When Cove asks the MC if he looks weird wearing the party hat (if the MC encouraged Cove to wear one):

"You look great, Cove." [warm +1]

"It's completely perfect." [cold +1]

"It looks silly." [warm +1]

You just giggled. [cold +1]

You shrugged. [cold +1]

You shook your head no. [warm +1]

After Cove does a taste test of one of the gummy bears (if the MC agreed to partner up with him):

"You should've waited." [warm +1]

You tried one for yourself. [cold +1]

"What did it taste like?" [no change]

(following above scene) If the MC failed to catch the gummy bear due to casually trying to catch it while also not having any athletic points:

You felt bummed at losing. [warm +1]

You jokingly blamed Cove for blowing it. [warm +1]

You just laughed. [cold +1]

You shrugged it off. [no change]

You bent down to eat the candy anyways. [cold +1]

If the MC makes it to the final round of the gummy bear toss, noticing Cove's determination:

You were charmed by his attitude. [warm +1]

You equally wanted to win. [no change]

You didn't want to let him down. [cold +1]

You thought this was kinda funny. [cold +1]

You felt nervous under the pressure. [warm +1]

If the MC wins the gummy bear toss with Cove (by either Cove being any level of sporty - points accumulated during Step 2 itself don't count - or the MC having accrued enough athletic points during Step 2):

You high-fived Cove. [warm +1]

You put an arm around Cove. [cold +1]

You jumped into a hug. [warm +1]

You ruffled Cove's hair. [cold +1]

You nudged him in a friendly way. [cold +1]

You smiled at him. [warm +1]

(following above choice):

"Nice catch!" [cold +1]

"Woo!" [warm +1]

"We demolished the competition." [no change]

When Miranda offers to launch someone in the bounce house (Cove will ask to be launched if the MC turns her down):

"Ok, launch me." [cold +1]

"Not me!" [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"I'd rather just watch." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You remained silent. [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

After Cove starts making sounds with the noise maker:

You asked Cove to stop. [warm +1]

You started blowing on your own noise maker. [cold +1]

You blew your noise maker back at Cove. [cold +1]

You were amused by Cove's antics.

○ You blew your noise maker back at Cove. [cold +1]

○ You told him to cut it out. [warm +1]

○ You jokingly tried to get away. [warm +1]

After Jeremy bullies either Cove, the MC, or both of them:

You poured your drink on Jeremy. [cold +1]

You pushed Jeremy. [cold +1]

You punched Jeremy in the face. [cold +1]

You drowned out his words with your noise maker. [warm +1]

You stood still, shocked. [warm +1]

You teared up. [warm +1]

(immediately following above choice):

"You're a dick!" [warm +1]

"You're ruining someone's birthday." [warm +1]

"I'm gonna find your parents and tell them what's going on." [warm +1]

"Don't say anything like that ever again!" [cold +1]

You laughed at his reaction. [cold +1]

You said nothing. [cold +1]

If the MC chose to retaliate (pour their drink on, push, punch, or swear) at Jeremy:

You shrugged. [no change]

"He deserved it." [cold +1]

You felt a little bad about it... [warm +1]

You were still mad at what happened. [warm +1]

"Do you think it was too much?" [cold +1]

If the MC did anything else in response to Jeremy:

You agreed Jeremy is totally nuts. [cold +1]

You wished that you had done something more. [warm +1]

You hoped that you would never see him again. [cold +1]

You weren't sure how to feel. [no change]

You were just happy Jeremy was gone. [cold +1]

You felt sad that he was so mean. [warm +1]

If the MC did not eat both the ice cream and cake, leading to Cove offering to take whatever's left (Fond/Crush only):

You slid your plate over. [cold +1]

You shook your head and kept your plate. [no change]

When Cove starts mashing his cake into his ice cream:

You raised your eyebrow. [cold +1]

You told him you do the same thing. [cold +1]

You thought it looked gross. [cold +1]

"I've never done that, but I want to now." [warm +1]

You didn't react. [warm +1]

After Cove and the MC reminisce on the ice cream cups (if Barbecue happened; Fond/Crush only):

You offered him a bite of your dessert." (if the MC is having dessert at all and did not slide their plate to Cove if they were only having one of the desserts) [warm +1]

You held up your fork and offered a bite of your dessert to him." (if the MC is having dessert at all and did slide their plate to Cove) [cold +1]

You asked him if you could have a bite of his dessert. [warm +1]

You smiled about the memory to yourself. [no change]

(following above choice) If MC asked/offered dessert and told Cove they were serious about it (Crush only):

"It's fine, Cove. I get it." [warm +1]

"Don't want to get my cooties, huh?" [warm +1]

"Different how? In what way?" (if the MC shared their ice cream with Cove in Barbecue) [cold +1]

You were a little down at his refusal. [cold +1]

After Cove confirms with Miranda that she didn't know what happened with Jeremy:

You got up and started bouncing again. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You laid back and closed your eyes to rest. [warm +1]

You changed the subject. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You told her about the ordeal. [warm +1]

Summerwork

After Cove thanks the MC for listening to him:

"Anytime." [cold +1]

"It's cool." [warm +1]

"You are welcome." [no change]

"Don't make a habit of it." [no change]

When Cove offers to check his own bag for the MC's homework (Fond/Crush only):

"Good idea." [cold +1]

"I don't want to." [warm +1]

"Alright..." [warm +1]

"It's not gonna be there." [cold +1]

Escapade

As the MC sees Cove spit out a watermelon seed into a bush (Fond/Crush only):

You shook your head in disapproval. [warm +1]

"Ew!" [cold +1]

You did the same and spat a seed into the bushes. [cold +1]

"I bet I can spit a seed farther than you." [warm +1]

(following above choice) When Cove asks if it's bad to have another slice):

You bumped him with your shoulder. [warm +1]

Unable to resist, you knocked the mostly finished slice out of his hand. [cold +1]

You smiled at him. [warm +1]

"No, it's alright." [cold +1]

"It's definitely bad." [warm +1]

You sighed affectionately. [cold +1]

After Cove leaves to go inside after the sunshower (Indifferent only):

You stayed outside to dry off. [warm +1]

You went inside. [cold +1]

When Cove offers to let the MC come inside his house to dry off (Fond/Crush only):

"Thanks, let's do that." [cold +1]

"You're the sweetest guy I know." [warm +1]

"I don't wanna cause trouble." [warm +1]

"I'm fine." [cold +1]

After Kyra opens the windows and turns up the radio:

You laughed and enjoyed the event. [warm +1]

You jokingly complained about the situation. [cold +1]

You were not a fan of this stunt. [cold +1]

You danced in your seat to the music. [warm +1]

As Cove panics over the papers flying out the window:

Amused, you helped. [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You helped frantically. [cold +1]

You watched him struggle, entertained. [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

When Cove complains about feeling tricked by Kyra:

You sided with Cove. [cold +1]

You sided with Kyra. [warm +1]

You stayed quiet. [warm +1]

After Kyra talks about catching a movie and Cove points out that he doesn't have any shoes:

"You should always bring shoes when you're going out." [cold +1] {note that this will give Step 3 Cove the blue swimming trunks}

"I'm not wearing any either." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 3 Cove the blue swimming trunks if you follow up with "I don't know" or the pink swimming trunks with "We can't"/"It doesn't matter"}

"It doesn't matter." [warm +1] {note that this will give Step 3 Cove the pink swimming trunks}

As Cove shifts awkwardly while waiting for Kyra to buy tickets:

You offered him your shoes." (if the MC is wearing shoes) [warm +1]

Still, you consoled him. [cold +1]

You teased him over it. [warm +1]

You complained with him. [cold +1]

You kept quiet. [no change]

If the MC chose to leave the theater early with Cove:

"Thanks for leaving, Cove." [warm +1]

"I'm sorry we had to go." [warm +1]

"You're a really good friend." (if Fond/Crush) [cold +1]

"You're a good guy." (if Indifferent) [cold +1]

You hugged him." (if Fond/Crush) [cold +1]

You just wanted to stay quiet. [warm +1]

After Cove explains to the MC why he thinks Kyra took he and the MC out for their escapade:

"Are you having a good time with your mom around?" [warm +1]

"Okay. I get it." [cold +1]

"She shouldn't have made me be a part of it." [warm +1]

You nodded in understanding. [warm +1]

"She's giving you a taste of your own medicine." [cold +1]

You said nothing. [no change]

When the MC recalls how Cove ran away when they were kids (if Runaway happened):

You kept that thought to yourself. [no change]

You whispered about it to Cove. [warm +1]

○ You decided to inform Kyra. [cold +1]

○ You nodded and kept the secret. [no change]

You said it out loud. [cold +1]

(following above choice if the MC told Kyra about Cove running away):

You laughed. [cold +1]

You felt extremely embarrassed." (if "You said it out loud" was chosen from above) [warm +1]

You apologized to Cove. [warm +1]

You didn't feel like this was a big deal. [cold +1]

When Cove offers to talk to the MC's moms over Kyra keeping MC later than expected (Fond/Crush only):

"Thank you." [cold +1]

"Thanks, I might need it." [warm +1]

"I'm just glad we're heading back now." [warm +1]

"This was worth it even if they get mad." [cold +1]

You nodded. [warm +1]

(following above scene if the MC borrowed Cove's shirt) After Cove tells the MC to keep his shirt:

"Thanks." [warm +1]

"You're the best." [cold +1]

Secretly, you had hoped to not have to give it back. [warm +1]

"Good. You weren't gonna get it back no matter what." [cold +1]

You were at a loss over this. [warm +1]

Soiree

(obviously, all Soiree points require that the MC ask Cove to the soiree)

After Cove nods in response to the MC asking him out on a real date (Crush only):

"Yay!" [warm +1]

"Really?" [cold +1]

You exhaled deeply. [warm +1]

"Thank you!" [cold +1]

"You're welcome." [no change]

(following above choice) after Pamela teases Cove about treating the MC well:

"You're making him uncomfortable!" [cold +1]

"Stop embarrassing me." [warm +1]

"You don't have to worry." [warm +1]

"You don't have to worry. Cove's definitely going to be good to me." [cold +1]

"Come on Cove, what kind of answer was that?" [warm +1]

When the moms ask the MC when Cove is going to arrive:

"He's getting here at seven." [warm +1]

"Soon. Probably." [warm +1]

"I'm not sure." [warm +1]

"I'm picking him up from his place." [cold +1]

"I'll go get him!" [cold +1]

When Kyra asks the MC if they want her to call Cove for them (if the MC went to pick up Cove for the soiree):

"That would be great, thanks." [warm +1]

"It's alright. I can wait." [cold +1]

"Can I go check?" [no change]

You went over to Cove's room to check yourself. (Fond/Crush only) [no change]

After Cove compliments the MC's look:

"You're looking good, too." [warm +1]

"I wish I could say the same to you." [warm +1]

"What is that you're wearing?" [cold +1]

"You look wonderful." [cold +1]

After the MC's initial response to Cove giving them a flower (Fond/Crush only):

"You didn't need to do this, Cove." [warm +1]

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything." [cold +1]

"Thank you, Cove." [no change]

"I still like this one 'cause it's from you." (if the MC told Cove that they didn't like the flower) [warm +1]

You left the conversation there. [no change]

"You're so wonderful." [cold +1]

After Cove asks if it's fine to eat if the MC chose to go have food with him:

"Yeah. I only like these parties because of the free food." [warm +1]

"I knew you'd come just for the free food." [cold +1]

"Yep. I wonder what they'll have this time?" [no change]

"No one will mind. Really." [cold +1]

You simply nodded. [warm +1]

When the MC chooses to ask Cove for a dance:

{note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"So... would you like to dance, maybe?" [warm +1]

"Hey, Cove. Let's dance." [cold +1]

"Cove, can I have the pleasure of your company on the dance floor?" [warm +1]

"C'mon, it's time to dance." [no change]

"I'd like to dance. With you. If that's okay?" [cold +1]

When Cove comments on his obligation to dance if the MC asks him to dance and asked him earlier to be their practice date (Fond only):

"That's right." [warm +1]

"You don't have to." [cold +1]

"I guess?" [cold +1]

"Only if you want to." [warm +1]

"Thanks." [no change]

After Cove steps out of sync with the music if the MC asked him to dance (Fond/Crush only):

"We should have stuck to the Hokey Pokey." [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

"It's okay." [cold +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

"Dancing is harder than I thought." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

"I'm signing you up for dancing lessons." [warm +1] {note that this will give Cove sporty +1}

You quietly took a break. [warm +1]

Once Cove walks off to sit at a table (Indifferent only):

"Uh, Cove? Are you alright?" [cold +1]

"What's wrong?" [warm +1]

"Are you gonna get up soon?" [no change]

You didn't say anything. [no change]

(following above scene if MC chose to stay with Cove):

"What's wrong?" [warm +1]

"Feeling tired?" [cold +1]

"Are you sick?" [cold +1]

"What's up?" [no change]

"For what?" [warm +1]

After Cove walks away from the soiree (Fond/Crush only):

"Are you alright? And why are we here?" [cold +1]

"What's wrong?" [warm +1]

"Why'd you drag us out here?" [no change]

"Look at us, breaking the rules." [no change]

You didn't say anything. [no change]

(following above choice after the MC stays with Cove and he explains that he feels ready to go home):

"To your home planet?" [warm +1]

"Don't try running that far." [cold +1]

You kept quiet. [no change]

"I'm sorry you're not having fun anymore." [warm +1]

"Should I get my moms?" [cold +1]

Step 2 - Ending

If the MC wants to wear anklets for Cove (Fond/Crush only):

You put one ankle bracelet on. [cold +1]

You decided to wear several anklets." (if the MC owns multiple anklets) [warm +1]

You didn't wear one. [no change]

While the MC is waiting for Cove to arrive (Fond/Crush only):

It would only be polite to get the door for Cove. You went downstairs to wait. [cold +1]

You couldn't wait to see Cove, so you went downstairs to meet him when he arrived. [cold +1]

Cove knew your house well enough. You could lounge in your room to wait for him. [warm +1]

As Cove is talking about how he can't believe his mother is already leaving (Fond/Crush only):

"Yeah." [no change]

You nodded. [no change]

"She'll be back." [warm +1]

"Time's going by so fast." [cold +1]

After Cove notices the MC if they chose to wear an anklet/multiple anklets (Fond only):

"What do you mean?" [cold +1]

"Sorry." [cold +1]

"It's not about you." [warm +1]

You kept your mouth shut. [warm +1]

After Cove notices the MC if they chose to wear an anklet/multiple anklets (Crush only):

"Does it look good?" [warm +1]

You stayed quiet yourself. [warm +1]

"Sorry..." [cold +1]

"What's the problem, Cove?" [cold +1]

(following above choice):

"Yes." [cold +1]

"No." [warm +1]

"Maybe." [warm +1]

"I don't know what you're talking about?" [cold +1]

You shrugged. [no change]

If the MC chooses to confess to Cove with words (Crush only):

"I know you're crushing on me and I feel the same about you." [warm +1]

"I like you Cove. I really, really like you!" [cold +1]

"I... I have a crush on you." [warm +1]

"You're pretty and wonderful and the best person I know! I like you so much." [cold +1]

It was just too difficult to get the words out, no matter how much you wanted to. [no change]

(following above choice if MC didn't back out of confessing):

"I don't know, either." [warm +1]

"You don't have to do anything." [cold +1]

"You could tell me how you feel." [cold +1]

"Calm down." [warm +1]

You laughed. [no change]

You shrugged. [no change]

If the MC confesses to Cove by kissing without caution (Crush only):

"Was that alright?" [warm +1]

"Um, are you okay?" [cold +1]

"Surprise!" [warm +1]

"I really like you Cove." [cold +1]

"I'm sorry." [cold +1]

You couldn't say anything. [warm +1]

If the MC confesses to Cove by kissing cautiously and Cove apologizes (Crush only):

"It's okay." [cold +1]

You laughed. [warm +1]

You began to cry. [warm +1]

You were annoyed. [cold +1]

"I'll survive. Probably." [warm +1]

If the MC confesses to Cove by asking for a kiss (Crush only):

"Because I want to right now." [warm +1]

"I don't know." [warm +1]

"I don't wanna wait any longer." [cold +1]

"Why not?" [cold +1]

You couldn't answer. [cold +1]

If the MC tried to kiss Cove in Road Trip, leading to Cove bringing it up himself in their room (Crush only):

"How about a do-over?" [cold +1]

"Do you want to try again?" [warm +1]

You silently returned his gaze. [cold +1]

You smiled reassuringly. [warm +1]

When Cove points out how them getting into a relationship would make things different (Crush only):

"Things don't have to be different." [cold +1]

"I pretty much imagined you'd react like this." (if the MC didn't try to kiss Cove in Road Trip) [warm +1]

"This is hard for me." [warm +1]

"Should we find a crystal ball for answers?" [cold +1]

After Cove starts freaking out after sharing a kiss with the MC (Crush only):

You were full of nerves. [warm +1]

His reaction was really cute. [warm +1]

You thought his fluster was funny. [cold +1]

It worried you that he was so frantic. [cold +1]

(following above choice) After Cove calms down (provided the MC didn't verbally confess):

You smiled at him. [cold +1]

You hugged him. [warm +1]

"I like you, too." [cold +1]

You breathed a sigh of relief. [warm +1]

"I like you even more!" [cold +1]

After Cove points out that he and the MC's parents will probably take issue with their romantic relationship (Crush only):

"It's not fair." [warm +1]

"I wish we were older." [cold +1]

"It's okay." [cold +1]

"It doesn't matter, though. We like each other and that's what's important." [warm +1]

You didn't know what to say. [cold +1]

After Cove hesitates before crossing the street, anxious about his mom leaving (Fond/Crush only):

You smiled at him reassuringly. [cold +1]

You gave his back a pat. [cold +1]

You rested your hand on his arm. [warm +1]

"This isn't the last time you'll ever see her." [warm +1]

When Derek starts fantasizing about doing a show on the shopping street:

You thought it was a great idea and wanted to be a part of it. [warm +1]

You felt he could try this idea on his own. [cold +1]

You thought Derek needed to abandon that bad idea, stat. [warm +1]

You gave a look to the other two. [cold +1]

After Cove, Derek, and Elizabeth start speculating about the misprinted globe:

You wanted to side with Cove. {note that this will give Cove studious +1}

You backed up Derek. [no change]

You agreed with your sister. [no change]

"No, it's Australia." [warm +1]

You stayed out of it. [cold +1]

When the MC, Derek, and Cove spot Jeremy:

You stood there, shocked. [warm +1]

You glared at Jeremy. [cold +1]

You waved at Jeremy. [cold +1]

You decided to smile at Jeremy. [warm +1]

You looked away. [warm +1]

If the MC mentioned the realization that they probably won't see Jeremy again once summer ends:

"Good riddance." [cold +1]

"I think I might wanna see him again, sometime." [cold +1]

"Maybe he'll become nicer in the future." [warm +1]

"I'm happy it's over." [warm +1]

You stayed quiet. [warm +1]

If the MC chose to chase after Jeremy (if Birthday happened):

"Good riddance." [cold +1]

You tried to apologize for how you acted last time." (if the MC retaliated against Jeremy in Birthday) [warm +1]

"I just thought it'd be nice to say bye." [warm +1]

"Don't come back." [warm +1]

"I wish we could've really gotten to know each other." [cold +1]

You didn't say anything. [cold +1]

If the MC admitted to the families that they confessed to/kissed Cove (Crush only):

You were also feeling extremely, extremely embarrassed. [warm +1]

You felt bad for putting him in this situation. [cold +1]

You felt good for telling your friends and family something so important. [warm +1]

You didn't know how to feel anymore. [warm +1]

You were annoyed at the others for making Cove more nervous. [cold +1]

After the families tease Cove for not having manners like Derek:

"Manners-smanners." [cold +1]

"Who cares? I don't think it's that big of a deal." [warm +1]

You teased Cove for his bad habit. [warm +1]

You complimented Derek on his politeness. [cold +1]

You joked that Derek was basically an adult. [warm +1]

You kept quiet and took a bite of food. [warm +1]

If the MC chose to go outside after Cove to the poppy hill:

"You really should go to sleep." [warm +1]

"I know how you feel." [cold +1]

"I feel good." [warm +1]

"I hope you feel better." [cold +1]

You shrugged back. [warm +1]

You nodded. [cold +1]

(following above if Cove does an action that he claims is doing what the MC does):

"You do that all the time too." [warm +1]

"So do you, Cove!" [cold +1]

You were stunned he noticed enough to take note of it. [cold +1]

"I don't do it that much." [warm +1]

Not being able to argue with his assessment, you accepted it. [warm +1]

You felt bashful about his joke. [cold +1]

After Cove climbs up to the MC's window in his wetsuit to ask if they want to go to the beach with him (Fond/Crush only):

"Always." [cold +1]

"Here we go again..." [warm +1]

"It's way too early, Cove." [warm +1]

"You're crazy." [cold +1]

"Cove. You're so cute." [warm +1]

You gave a decisive nod. [cold +1]

Hope that helps, or at least is interesting in some form~

This one was a real doozy, not just because of having more chances than in Step 1 to give Cove warm/cold points but I really thought I was going crazy with the whole Moderate situation.