#you get subject to my dreams now. mutuals.

[monaisme]

Thanks for the tag, @joyful-soul-collector!

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? Hubby started calling me Mona as a nickname shortly after we were married after the Mona Lisa and a really bad experience with our wedding photographer. She told me that smiling too big would ruin our photos because the obvious gap I have between my front teeth. It was one of the happiest moments of my life to that point and afterwards, I'd do this small, closed-mouth smile instead. After a while, it felt like the nickname fit more than my actual name and so... Mona is me. (I should get on adjusting that so it's more readable!)

OTP(s) + Shipname: I'm fairly certain Irondad is going to be my ride or die. Tony Stark and Peter Parker were forever meant to make each other better-- in a strictly familial sort of way.

Favorite color: Today? Brown.

Favorite game: I'm an Octordle fan. Google it. I'm currently trying to beat my best score of 52.

Song stuck in your head: huh? I do not have a song stuck in my head at this exact moment. Odd.

Weirdest habit/trait? I talk to myself. I got into the habit when I first started writing and it MAY have crossed over into my everyday. Oops.

Hobbies: Writing, word puzzles... I'm about to start playing around with watercolours to see how I do with them.

If you work, what's your profession? I used to work! I worked at Home Depot as a head cashier, so retail... and I loved it. Well... I loved the people. Management was a collective of abusive, power-tripping assholes. Except for Patrick. I miss Patrick.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I'd kill to be a high school English teacher. It had been the dream. Anxiety decided that it was not in the cards.

Something you're good at: I'd like to think I'm good at writing, but I know that it's a work in progress. I am a good storyteller, though. And I'm good at making people feel comfortable.

Something you're bad at: Staying organized... and keeping focused.

Something you love: My kids. My husband. My sisters. Naps. Terry's Orange chocolate. Homemade beef stew.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My family. My favorite books/movies.

Something you hate: Bullies. Being intentionally obtuse. Cilantro. All this trump shit.

Something you collect: Books and movie ticket stubs.

Something you forget: My wedding band! All the time! It goes off so I can use hand lotion or wash dishes or whatever and then it's three hours later, I'm driving somewhere, and my ring finger is bare! I'm the worst! Hubby just shrugs and announces that he's out with the girlfriend instead of the wife... which is cool, because I've heard she can be a real bitch. 🤭

What's your love language? Words of affirmation/ acts of service/ physical touch.

Favorite movie/show: The LOTR trilogy, all things Star Trek

Favorite food: Santa Lucia's pepperoni pizza

Favorite animal: Dogs... and anything tiny, soft, and safe enough to be cuddled.

What were you like as a child? Weird. Creative. Eager to please. Things were sometimes difficult growing up, so I tried to be whatever it was that whoever needed me to be. Most of the time, that meant being an entertaining distraction.

Favorite subject at school? English. ugh. Soooo amazing! And I was so fortunate to have some pretty incredible teachers.

Least favorite subject: Math. It hated me just as much as I hated it. Absolutely 100% reciprocated.

What's your best character trait? Honestly, I love just about everyone... or I try, at least. I swear, I should've been a hippy!

What's your worst character trait? I'm a little (a lot!) scattered some days. It drives me (and some others) nuts.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Oof. I can only pick one thing? My health?

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? I don't know that I'd like to meet anyone new? Getting to spend some time to visit with my grandfather before the Alzheimer's would be priceless.

Now tag as many mutuals as you want!

@sarah-sandwich, @vankaar, @imbecamiel, @itsmechara426, @ctrsara, @turtle-of-winter, @iamsailornerd, @yes-i-am-happyaspie, @snarkythewoecrow, @justme--emily,

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[hollis-exe]

took a nap. had a dream that the local mcdonalds near to my work was demolished and inside of it were dozens of plush toys that my mom made me get rid of when i was 10. when i tried to pick one up i was transported to an infinitely expansive mall (ie: i stood upon the street, and when i looked down in either direction it stretched into the horizon, unbroken) where i was given the responsibility of tending to someone i recognized, but couldn't recall the name of. this stressed me out because they kept wandering near traffic and i didnt know what to call them, so i had to keep physically pulling them away from narrowly getting hit by cars.

we wandered around for a while sampling mall foods. there was an ice cream shop that sold an item called "KING OF ORANGE" which was a 16 ounce cup made from graham cracker with a 2 inch white-chocolate dip around the rim. inside was just layers of orange and lemon curd. it cost 103$ exactly, and i wanted it so so bad. parallel to this, i was being haunted by the dream-memory of a series of books about dragons, and each book in the series took place in a different dragon culture, following the protagonist's journey through the land to find his real home (he was adopted as a young dragon by a bunch of .... herbivores? and was looking to find other dragons like him). the titles were like "MY NAME IS Z, IN THE COURT OF X AND Y" and it was a political thriller, i think. anyway the publisher made a limited range of plushes based on the main characters and while i was trying to tend to that mysterious person i was trying to find these plushes on ebay, and that was really high stakes for some reason.

[raspberryjellybrains]

remember when delirium was worried about destruction being gone and it was rooted in her loneliness and genuine love for her siblings and the other endless wanted to ignore her sudden upset over this because she's delirium and she gets this way sometimes, don't worry about it, she'll forget soon enough so it really doesn't matter at all. I should get to bludgeon all of them with a bat for that.

[pjsfvs]

breeding kink hc - Mark Lee

paring : husband!mark x afab!reader

warnings/tags : very nsfw, mentions of pregnancy, oral sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluff, breeding kink, Mark going AT it

summary : mark will do whatever it takes to get you pregnant.

a/n : this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday on 1/27 but i posted the Sunoo hc instead. Also, if you have any requests, you can leave them in my inbox! and don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

Having a child together was always something Mark and you knew would happen for you. Brushed lightly on the subject, you clearly remember the way Mark’s eyes would light up when you’d mentioned earlier in your relationship, that you wanted children.

Now, married in bliss with your second anniversary approaching, Mark had started to get a little impatient. You both knew you wanted to get pregnant eventually but hadn’t quite decided concretely exactly when just yet.

For Mark, a family always seemed a distant dream. However, when you’d walked into his life, he knew he wanted it with you.

In the beginning of your relationship, you used condoms during sex. It worked at the time, but eventually, after a conversation together, you decided you’d get yourself on birth control. Mark and you were pretty serious, had a solid foundation for your relationship and knew you wanted to be together for the rest of your lives,

And part of you wanted to take that step in your relationship; no matter how minor it may be. Sex was already something so intimate between you two, but to remove the barrier of a condom and really feel each other closer? It felt natural. Felt like something you trusted each other with.

Little did you know, that decision would spark a little something in your man…

For Mark, the first time you’d had sex using birth control, he swore he fell a little further for you [if it was even possible]. To know you trusted him to cum inside, that you weren’t scared, or fearful of anything going wrong meant so much to him.

Often during sex, he’d find himself thinking how much power his seed really had. On birth control, his cum buried deep inside your cunt meant nothing more than the mutual trust you two shared, a symbol of how deep your relationship had gotten.

But if you were off birth control? If the sex was unprotected?

Mark’s cum held great power. He could put a baby in you. Your baby, that you made with the embodiment of love your bodies yield to each other. The thought alone made Mark shiver each time, shuddering with a tingle of anticipation when he’d spill his hot loads inside you each night.

“Mark?” You’d asked one night, after a steamy quickie before bed. You rested your head on his bare chest as he heaves down from his high, a heavy palm rested to the bare skin of your exposed back.

“Yeah, baby?” He returns, kissing the top of your tousled hair softly. His palms are gently soothing over your bare hips, the same hips that would someday, hopefully carry the live of your child.

And that same night, the conversation happened. You’re both ready for a baby, you both want a baby with each other.

Mark is ecstatic, can’t wait to watch your pregnant belly grow as he showers his love on you, taking care of you each step of the way. Mark is already the perfect husband, and you best bet that it would heighten tenfold when you’re pregnant.

You have sex every single day now, sometimes multiple times a day. Sex with Mark was always fantastic, always had you practically on the verge of tears to how well he’d fuck you when he needed to, how well he’d make love to you when he needed to. If anyone knows how to strike the perfect balance, it’s Mark Lee.

“You gonna give me a baby, kitten?” Mark rasps, hastily pounding into your needy cunt from above. His biceps rest on either side of you and they look massive this way, a dark, almost primal darkness in his eyes on some nights like this. You’ve been trying for about a month now, and Mark is growing impatient. Part of him fears deep inside that as always, something will go wrong; deprive him from the life he wants with you. You make sure to assure him, however. Assure him that it’ll happen for you.

“Ye-yes baby, put a baby in me Mark…” You whimper, begging underneath him, soft legs tightly wrapped around his waist to give him optimal access to your deepest parts. Mark’s cock twitches inside you, and you know he’s close. Every single time, you shake and shudder to the feel of being pounded by him, the way his creamy, succulent cum fills up inside you to the brim.

It baffles you the amount of cum the man carries, how much he spills after each fuck. You can definitely feel him fill you up and it turns you on so fucking bad as you desperately pull him close, peppering needy kisses all over his face as he makes you cum as well.

“They say the more orgasms you have, the better the chances of getting pregnant.” Mark whispers, slowly delving between your drenched thighs. He licks a long stride up your aching pussy before circling sloppy, wet circles to your clit. You’re not sure if Mark’s theory is 100% accurate. Nonetheless, you know Mark thrives off making you feel good, he wants you to enjoy the process more than him. After all, you are the one who’s going to be carrying your baby for months on end, bearing all the pain and discomforts that come your way.

It does pull at your heartstrings how much Mark cares, how desperate he is fulfilling the deed of getting you pregnant.

If on your bed, before sex, Mark puts a pillow under your hips to angle them up slightly while he pumps in and out. “Can’t have any drip out,” He smirks, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as his throbbing cock stays positioned inside you, cocooned by your warm, pulsing walls after release.

Cockwarming has become almost a daily occurrence. After he’s came inside you, Mark keeps his girthy member inside your cunt for a couple of minutes as you both come down from your highs. He’ll rest his head in the haven of your breasts, arms wrapping around you as you pull him close, kissing his head to happy dreams of this wonderful, loving man fathering your children someday.

Mark insists that you have sex a couple times a day, and you fear he’ll eventually get sick of having you if you don’t slow down a little

“I’ll never get sick of you,” He whispers into your neck, softly kissing the skin as his arms hold you so dearly tight. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.” You whisper, cupping his cheek. Mark is the sweetest man you know, and you best believe he’s only gotten sweeter since you’ve started trying.

Sometimes, when lounging next to each other, or when he’d come up behind you in a tender hug as you cook breakfast, Mark rests his hands on your belly; dreaming of how heartfelt it would be the day your baby would be in there,

“You’re gonna look so beautiful sweetheart, carrying our baby.” His deep baritone would soothe in your ears as he slams into you, your breasts bouncing to his pace as his hips snap into you hard, senselessly. His balls slam your core so hard each time, and the sounds of skin slapping skin fill the house very often nowadays. “Gonna show you off to the entire world,” He moans, cupping your breasts & kneading them with a firm force, yet cautious not to hurt you, as his mind drifts to the thought of how full they’d look, swollen holding milk

Mark and you have possibly tried every sex position there is at this point. Doggy style? Mark fucks into like a rabbit from behind, cock grinding your cervix to the deepest parts before slipping out entirely, only to plummet back in

Your legs on his shoulders as he fucks into you relentlessly? It’s one of his “trying to conceive” favourites, allows his sperm to take advantage of gravity

Face to face lying beside each other? Mark practically melts each time you do this one. The entry of his cock is so deep this way as you hold each other’s gazes, your leg draped over his waist as his arms pull you closer, rosy skin flushed together with a thin layer of sweat.

From behind as you lay on your stomach? Mark’s eyes roll to the back of his head in this one. He enters you from behind, pounding in as he grinds your g-spot repeatedly, almost always giving you two orgasms before he cums deep, deep inside.

Did I mention how loud Mark is when he cums

He moans, throaty groans fleeing his lips as he practically growls in your ear. The way you clench around him is too much, your pussy is too tight; too warm and he’s far too in love with your body (and all of you, ofc). Far too drunk on thoughts of pounding you pregnant for him.

Sometimes Mark can get so dirty while fucking you.

It surprises you sometimes that your sweet, loving, wholesome husband can say such sinful things

“Gonna make a baby come out of that tight little pussy.” He drips, biting small love marks into your skin as he thrusts, marking your body as his breeding ground.

I mean he is a literal assassin so you do get that he can be a bit brutal sometimes

He tracks your periods and the days you’re most fertile (not that it matters too much since he fucks you into oblivion each day haha) but on days where you’ve ovulating, he makes sure to go deeper, harder, and get in multiple rounds for optimal chances of conceiving.

Mark cumming inside is so special now. You can’t help but shiver each time you feel him explode deep within you, knowing that that load might be the one to do the trick.

You’re an advocating member of the “Make Mark a daddy 2024” campaign.

And when your period is late…you tell Mark with beaming eyes and swear you’d seen a glistening glow in that chocolate gaze, unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You buy multiple tests together, Mark's hand holding yours the entire time. The thought that your baby might be growing inside you, right now, this second as you stand at the checkout counter has his smiling like a goofy idiot.

Your goofy idiot, of course :)

You take the tests together in the master bathroom of your bedroom. Mark is on edge and you have to hold his hand to reassure him, explaining to him that if its only a false alarm, you’ll keep trying because you want this with him. You need this with him.

You want a family and it’s never going to change.

But when all the tests come back positive, Mark is on the brink of tears.

You both are, holding each other tighter than ever as you both cry into each other’s necks, kneeling in a bundle of cuddles on the bathroom floor. Mark kisses each inch of your face, peppers delicate kisses to your tousled hair, offering squeezes to your hand when you let out a soft sniffle at the sheer happiness.

This is a moment that will forever be engrained in your minds.

It was finally happening; you made a baby.

You’ve never seen Mark this happy before, feeling as if everything in his life has finally fallen into place. This is what all the pain, all the hurt, all the sin that lingers in the shadows of his past had been leading up to. A family with you, free of evil, free of any grim that lingers.

A life where the only Mark Lee that the world knows, is the Mark who loves and is loved by his wife, and the Mark who is a father.

The most loving, caring, amazing father he could ever be.

[kaspbra-cant-even]

Never Tear Us Apart (Spencer Reid/Reader)

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

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

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

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

Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just give me the keys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to tell you something...”

Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again.” “Spenc-aah”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cryptidghostgirl]

so sorry for this (very) specific request hope it's not ocish

anyways alastor x wife reader who's a virologist / kinda a mad scientist??(girl just wants to start a apocalypse without anyone to bother her)

Like they got married for mutual benefits (whatever benefits he would gain and her having access to money for her wildest dreams) when they were humans (whether he actually loves her or not is up to you lmao)

They both die (I assume that she would die around when he died from her own negligence caused by her 'freedom' to do her work more often without actually worrying about him finding out) and she avoids him like the plague (not that hard to realize this so called radio demon is your 'husband' when you find his secret stash of 'local cuisine' in the fridge)

Then he goes missing and she finally kinda goes out of makeshift hiding, just chilling doing her evil deeds before finding about the Hazbin Hotel from some gossip

Deciding that, while redemption is most likely not gonna happen mostly for the fact she does not care, she joins Charlie's little program. For her own little project (just wants to have a angel test subject, gotta see if they can be a good carrier for her little virus)

The reader doesn't know that Alastor's back (you think she's gonna use vox tech? Or listen to the radio? Girl uses a non vox tech phone and maybe a computer and does her work) so she goes and knocks on the door to the hotel

Thinking that this shit is gonna be easy, after all her husband is gone so she won't be bothered by him. She can focus on her beautiful creations and maybe destory hell and heaven with a apocalypse for some laughs. While also getting access to heaven through Charlie somehow (maybe even Lucifer, girl doesn't know nor care)

Anyways you can just IMAGINE her surprise that right after Charlie greets her (Vaggie ofc suspicious af cause she knows damn well no sinner wants to be redeemed for the most part) then here comes the strawberry pimp coming to say hello

Would he recognize his lovely wife? Maybe

Ofc reader had a plan, and by plan I mean she just says they were married and now acts like their divorced (death do us part and we fuckin dead)

(Just for example, do what you want <3)

Anyways I'm sorry again (can you tell that I've been watching a lot of mlp infection aus :') )

A/N bestie,, i love an overly detailed request. no apologies. i hope i did it justice <3 <3 I have literally been obsessing over the whole 'we're dead. we've been parted.' reader idea. It's so fun. Also I am very sorry it took me so long to get to this. Also, I am not a woman nor am I in STEM (I'm an enby in history) so apologies if science stuff in this is bad. I'm basing the character off of Entrapta (my love) from Nate Stevenson's She-Ra remake.

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Gore. Murder. Bodies. Animal cruelty (not detailed at all just like test subjects and burning ants as a kid). Viruses/plague talk. Just capital d Death all around in this one folks. Suicide and starvation briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,584

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n hadn't been sad when Alastor died. It didn't really even register on her radar that he was gone until the police showed up at her door. Their marriage was more of an agreement than anything else, a division of labor. Y/n was a talented virologist who came from a rather wealthy family. He got access to her money, using it to start his own radio studio, and Y/n? Well Y/n got a clean up crew.

She had always been fascinated by death. It was a morbid curiosity that had followed her since childhood. The typical 'burning ants with a magnifying glass to mass murderer' pipeline only, murder was not exactly her objective. Since learning of the Black Death in school, she had been fascinated by biological warfare and weaponry. The stories of soldiers throwing infected bodies over the walls of city's to break down their defenses? It was magnificent, masterful, absolutely awe inspiring. Living through the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, watching how it tore through her city of New Orleans, only furthered her determination.

As soon as she had had the knowledge base to do so, she began working on bio-weapons on her own. She wanted to create a disease, to devastate the world. She wanted to watch the things around her crumble into ruin and know it was by her hand.

She'd found out about Alastor's hobby by accident. They were friends, of a sort, in that Y/n would show up randomly where ever he was and quiz him about radio waves. He worked at a radio station and she knew that. She had followed him, tracked him down. There was no reasoning behind it save he was the first person she'd really found out about that was involved in the business in New Orleans. She would pick his mind about getting the word out about things, marketing, advertising. She was prepping for the main event, for the day she finally created her magnum opus.

One day, when she had shown up unannounced at his door and broken in when he didn't respond to her knocking, Y/n had discovered him dismembering one of his victims. Alastor had stared at her, wide eyed in shock, fear and adrenaline mixing into an intoxicating combination in his veins. Y/n had just smiled.

She had been wondering about human experimentation for a while now. Animals were easy to cover up, easy to bury in the back yard but people? It had always been too risky, up until now anyways.

So it went like this: Y/n funded Alastor's dreams and he hid the side effects of hers. When he died, Y/n didn't really feel anything too strongly about it at all. Yes, it made life harder in that if she wanted to keep using human guinea pigs she'd have to figure out a way to dispose of them on her own but it also made it easier. Alastor had always been so obsessed with image, dragging her to office parties and forcing her to sit down to meals with him. Now that he was gone, she could work on her projects in peace once again. The body thing was something she would figure out along the way. She was smart and she wasn't going to let something like that stop her, not when she was this close to cracking it.

As it turns out, Alastor had been more of a help than Y/n believed. So used to his nattering and persistence, she had stopped eating. It wasn't long before she joined her husband in death. The papers of course had a field day with it. Heiress and Virologist Y/n L/n Withers Away Due to Heartbreak. Y/n L/n Starved Herself to Death and Joins her Murderer of a Husband. Virologist Commits Suicide After Revelation of Dead Husband's Criminal Deeds.

When Y/n had woken up in Hell, her whole world had been turned upside down. If there was life after death, what was the point of killing everyone on earth? She was back at square one.

Rumors were already buzzing through the streets of Hell about some new overlord, some Radio Demon, who had a strikingly similar MO to her husband. Not wanting any distractions this time around, Y/n secluded herself in the outskirts of the pride ring to reformulate her plans.

For decades she worked, trying to create a poison to wipe out the dual planes of the underworld. Work was easier here. No one questioned why she bought the things she bought, no one got upset when people went missing. Hell, no one even blinked twice if they saw her burying a body. It was a veritable paradise for Y/n.

Eventually, news reached her of the Radio Demon's disappearance. Y/n had never been the biggest fan of technology that wasn't involved in her work. In the world of the living, she had barley read the papers. All the machines in her laboratory were ones she had built herself through trial and error. But still, somehow, the news reached her and she felt elated. The last thing weighing her down, the last road block had officially been lifted.

Within seven years, she had perfected the disease. Having run tests on lower rings of Hell, she prided herself on her ability to make it so infections, so deadly. The survival was on par with that of unvaccinated human's infected by rabies. But her plan wasn't complete, no. Taking out everyone in Hell wasn't good enough, she had to figure out how to get it into Heaven as well.

That was when the perfect opportunity fell in her lap. Y/n nearly cried when she caught sight of the interview through the window of a shop selling Vox branded TVs. Charlie Morningstar, Lucifer's little brat, was creating a hotel for sinners, where they could be rehabilitated and sent to Heaven. It was perfect, almost too perfect. Y/n didn't question it, her own excitement blinding her. She barley even took the time to come up with a plan that consisted of more than get into the hotel and get her hands on an angel. She figured that was something that could be dealt with later on.

After a few days of research and snooping, she finally made her move. Having packed her bags and woven her way through the streets of Pentagram City, she found herself before the brightly lit marquee of the Hazbin Hotel. Placing her bag on the ground beside her, the test tubes and various paraphernalia inside clinked gently against one another. Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

It was Charlie herself who answered, with wide eyes and an earnest smile. A smaller moth demon beside her crossed her arms, eyeing Y/n with doubt. It barley registered with the excitable demon, she was used to the strange looks. The new form Hell had granted her with when she died was odd, after all. She was still the same height, still held a roughly human shape, but her hair had become its own beast. It moved like secondary limbs, falling nearly to the floor from the pigtails she had tied it up into. It shot up into the air around her in joy at the sight of yet another open door in her path, this one literal rather than figurative.

"Hello!" Charlie exclaimed, "Are you here to check in?"

"Yes, check in." Y/n nodded, using her hair to pick her bag back up.

She took a step forward, trying to enter the hotel, but found her path blocked by the smaller grey demon. Her arms were uncrossed now, one of them pointing a spear right at Y/n's neck. Y/n didn't flinch, she simply looked down at it in curiosity, reaching a finger up to touch the end.

"Ow." she said flatly as the spear's tip pressed into the pad of her finger.

Raising it to her eyes, she rubbed the droplet of blood that had pooled on her pointer finger with her thumb before turning back to the spear.

"Is this..." Y/n leaned forward, grabbing the spear's shaft.

"Hey!" Vaggie yelled threateningly as Y/n crouched down, examining the weapon carefully.

"Oh my stars, this is an angelic blade, isn't it?" she exclaimed, her eyes still fixed on the spear.

"Uh..."

Vaggie was more confused now than anything and she took the slightest step away from the excited demon. Y/n followed her and soon, they were in the entry way to the hotel. Charlie watched the scene play out with mild amusement, finding her girlfriends bewildered state rather charming. She let the door fall shut.

"It is, isn't it?" Y/n asked again, "But how did you get it? Did you make it? What do you do with it? Is it more effective than normal weapons? Why a spear? I-"

"What's this, we have a new guest?" a crackling voice cut Y/n off.

"Uh, yes!" Charlie stepped in, turning to face the newcomer.

Y/n, still preoccupied with the spear, was now engaged in trying to get Vaggie to let her hold it.

"I think..." Charlie doubtfully added, her brow furrowing at the site.

"Well well well, a little devil." Alastor hummed, turning to watch the show as well, "Honestly, reminds me of someone I knew back when I was alive and kicking. Ah well, what's her name?"

"I don't... actually know that yet." Charlie admitted, fiddling with her hands a bit as she spoke, "But she seems really enthusiastic about being here!"

"It seems she more interested in that spear of Vaggie's than the idea of redemption." Alastor noted in response.

"Are either of you going to help me or are you just gonna sit and watch?" Vaggie exclaimed, trying her best to pry the spear out of Y/n's grip.

Alastor sighed and with a twirl of his microphone, a shadow arose, pulling Y/n off Vaggie. There was a split second where the smile on the girl's face fell. It quickly returned as she caught sight of what exactly had interrupted her escapades. Placing her bag on the floor with her hair, she wormed around in the shadow's arms, turning to face it. Tentatively, she poked it.

"Would you stop that?" Alastor asked, his voice thick with irritation.

Y/n poked the shadow again.

"What is this? How are you doing this?"

When no response came from the demon in question, she at last turned to face him.

"Oh."

She stilled in her movements and Alastor allowed the shadow to disappear.

"No reason to be scared." Charlie quickly stepped in, "I know Alastor here has a bit of a... reputation, but he is actually helping us at the hotel. He's really a great once you get to know him."

Alastor's smile widened as he bowed his head slightly in recognition of the praise.

"If you're going to be staying her-"

"You can't seriously be thinking of letting her stay here, Charlie." Vaggie cut in, "She's been here what, five minutes? And all thats come of it is chaos."

"Vaggie, come on, don't be like that." Charlie turned to her girlfriend, "Everyone deserves a second chance, that's the whole reason we built this place."

"But does she even want to be redeemed? I mean, what if she's... I don't know, trying to take us down from the inside out? What if she's a journalist or some shit trying to write us bad reviews?"

"You flatter me." Y/n smiled and Vaggie scoffed.

"See?"

"Isn't that all the more reason to let her in? Vaggie, if she is undercover as a journalist or something, we just have to prove to her how amazing what we're doing here is."

"I don't know... I've never seen her before, what if she's another one Vox sent?"

Y/n shook her head, sticking her tongue out slightly in disgust at this notion and Alastor chuckled. There really was something so familiar about this demon and her antics. Even if she was a tad irritating, it was a comfortable familiarity.

"Then we will figure it out, same way we did with Sir. Pentious. Okay?"

"Fine." Vaggie relented at last with a sigh.

Smiling brightly, Charlie turned back to Y/n.

"So, hi. I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! What's your name?"

Y/n's eyes flicked back and forth between Alastor and Charlie for a moment before settling on Charlie.

"Y/n L/n."

Alastor let out a little laugh of disbelief, a sound he had meant to keep in. He couldn't help it. Of course this little mess of a demon was his favorite crazy wife. Alastor had looked for Y/n on occasion, always keeping an eye on news involving anything scientific but, he had never found a trace. Not that he'd admit it but, in their time together, he had grown rather fond of the girl. Not love, never love, but a sort of familial feel. Everyone turned to face him.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Charlie asked, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm which he quickly brushed off.

"Yeah, do you know her or something?" Vaggie added, "Is she dangerous?"

"No..." he paused, his brow slightly furrowed, "She's my wife."

The room fell silent.

"You... you didn't recognize your own wife?" Vaggie asked in disbeleif.

"Ex-wife." Y/n corrected with a little sigh.

This was all becoming so tedious. She hadn't come here to sit and talk with people. While the spear and the shadow had been fun, they had both run their courses and she just wanted to get to work.

"I..." Alastor turned back to Y/n, "Ex-wife?"

Y/n shrugged.

"So you didn't recognize your wife and you didn't know you were divorced?" Vaggie asked, rubbing her temples, "Jesus fuck, man."

"I..." Alastor cleared his throat, "We were married when we were alive. I didn't even know she was dead yet."

"Yeah." Y/n shrugged, "Turns out all your nattering was what was keeping me alive. I forgot to eat, starved to death."

Alastor's eyes softened slightly for a moment at the notion. She had needed his care so badly that she had died with out it. It felt good, in a strange way. Satisfying. They darkened again as he recalled her earlier statement.

"Ex-wife?" he asked again, taking a step towards Y/n.

She looked up at him, her expression blank.

"Yeah?"

"When did we get a divorce!" Alastor exclaimed once he realized she would say nothing else on the matter without his prompting.

"Oh! We didn't." Y/n nodded, smiling slightly, "Now, can I go to my room?"

"No, Y/n. Why are you calling yourself my ex-wife? We are still married."

Y/n looked around at Charlie and Vaggie, seeing if they were going to back up her claim. Sighing, she turned back to Alastor.

"Do I really have to lay it out for you?" she paused and Alastor just stared at her, eyebrows raised, "Jesus. Uh, Al, we died."

"Yes...?"

"Till death do us part? That was the agreement."

"I... Well..." he was at a complete and total loss for how to respond.

She wasn't wrong, he just didn't like her answer very much.

"So... the agreement is done... yeah?"

"I mean," Alastor shook his head slightly, "I guess?"

"Great! Can someone please show me to my room now."

---

Next Part -> Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

[readychilledwine]

Okay I have like a slightly out of pocket request/idea that I don’t think I’ve seen before and if this is not your cup of tea you can straight up IGNORE but it’s taken over my brain 😂 let’s pretend in this story that eris and mor are mates but it’s a rejected situation bc obvs mor isn’t into males. And helion and the lady of autumn are also mates. This is post Hybern, maybe during or after ACOSF. Beron (I know ew right but stay with me now) ends up finding HIS mate. And she’s like the sweetest thing ever and she’s terrified of him. (Beron is infatuated with her because of whatever power she may have but he’s still an asshole don’t get me wrong this is not a beron redemption request) It becomes public knowledge that beron found his mate and he plans on marrying her. eris REFUSES to let another female be subjected to what his mother went through so this is what spurs the whole murder beron and become high lord plot. I have no thoughts on what happens between but eris succeeds and becomes high lord in the end, but falls in love with beron’s mate during the process and it’s mutual love and it’s angst with a happy ending. Usually fated mates is my jam but I just needed every mating bond to go wrong in this one LOL. Except for Helion and LoA of course 🫡

A Game of Fate

Eris Week - Day 7 - Free Day

Summary - After the bond between Beron Vanserra and Eris's hidden lover makes itself known, the cycle of tyranny in Autumn is put to the test

Warnings - assassination, poison, Beron, mentions of abuse, food and sleep deprivation, beron x reader mating bond.

A/n - I've been holding on to this, and I am so sorry 😭. I played with it a little bit, but I this ultimately was the version I am happiest with! Happy last day of @erisweekofficial . It feels like I'm like leaving a long-distance friend after too short of a visit.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

The Cauldron was wrong. Eris understood Azriel's claim in every sense now. The Cauldron had to be wrong.

There was no other explanation for why his father was currently signing papers to end his marriage because you were his mate. Sweet, kind, soft spoken you. You dreamed of far-off places, peace. You once told Eris you liked to imagine what the stars whispered to each other late at night.

You were a dreamer, and you were his. Eris had hidden you in plain sight since you became his peace. You were there for him after Mor rejected the bond. You were there for him after every beating, and you loved him through everything.

And now your father had to go and ruin it. You were 505 years old, and he finally felt the need to present you as a lady to the court to be married off however Beron saw fit.

If it was a massive payout your father wanted, he had it. Everyone knew what had happened the second the High Lord of Autumn laid eyes on you. The reactions ranged from jealousy to sympathy to shock. And now, two months later, the reaction was silence.

Without even speaking, you had changed the course of Autumn's history. You had ruined Helion, Rhys, and Eris's plans. You had freed his mother at the cost of yourself and your safety. Your words behind those closed doors would haunt Eris until he died, "I will marry you only if Lady Autumn is freed and allowed to leave to wherever she sees fit, safely and with your blessing."

Eris sighed as the other two High Lords, the inner circle, and his brothers all sat in Helion's war room. Eris's boots banged with each anxious and angry step, "Any ideas," he asked. "I would have to outright declare a blood duel now, which requires gaining the support of the rest of the courts beforehand, and we do not have time for that."

"We can not declare war," Rhysand contemplated. "No other court had claim to the girl, and you have no known claim to her."

"Even if he did, Autumn court law says the mating bond trumps it," Eris's mother, Anala, said. "Especially when it is between two members of the Autumn Court. Our laws allow males to claim their mates without her accepting the bond."

"Well if that isn't misogynistic-"

"Let me know when you actually ban wing clipping, and you can bash my court's laws," Anala spat at Rhysand. "You know, as well as I do change doesn't come overnight with a dictator."

Rhysand blinked at the former Lady of Autumn before glancing at Helion. You entered the room at that moment. The air seemed to tense as you did, but Eris rushed to you, holding your elbows. "Are you alright?"

Beron has been trying to manipulate you for weeks. He played games with your mind no long talks with Eris could prepare you for. Beron was a monster, and this was only your second week continuously being with him.

Helion stared to his love, his long lost mate, and stood, "Give me a week with your mother, and I will do it." The silence was screaming as the former Lady of Autumn shook her head. "There are no other answers, my love." Helion knew the look in Eris's eyes, the ache, the desperation, and the struggle.

He knew immediately what you were to Eris and what you could be to Autumn. Helion, much like Eris, knew he could not let you fall victim next, but you had no intentions to. He had watched his mate suffer for far too long, and the rumors of Beron's so-called adoration for the female in front of him did not mask the concern the Lord of Day felt.

You and Eris held eye contact. The room noticed the wordless communication. It was a bond that could only have been built through love, trust, and years of understanding. "I can not risk you like that."

"I would be careful," your reply was so soft but filled with confidence. "He won't even know if we use small amounts."

Eris couldn't help but hold your arms a little tighter, "I will not risk you." His eyes were pleading for you to reconsider to think this through.

"Would anyone mind including the rest of us in this... touching conversation?" Rhysand picked a piece of lint off his jacket before crossing his arms.

You spoke before Eris could, "There is a plant that grows in a certain place. It is highly poisonous and undetectable. The symptoms are no worse than an allergy. It can cause death within 2 weeks."

You watched as Anala shook her head at Helion, "I know of no such poison."

"That's because I made and grow it," Eris flinched at your admission and the questions it would bring.

Helion started to laugh, "You made it?"

Eris glared at the Day Lord, "y/n has a certain.. gift.. from the Mother."

"I can combine poisons," you rolled your eyes at Eris playfully. "Create new ones with no antidote or cures." Rhys and Helion turned to each other, clearly not assumed by the new information. "I only used it once. And they deserved it."

Anala's whiskey eyes went wide, "The human smuggler. You killed him?"

"Eris did. I just provided the supplies."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. "Eris, why was this information not provided to any of us earlier? Do you understand how useful she is?" You shook your head toward the red-haired male. He seemed to calm down instantly at the sight of you. "Ah, I see. She's your lover. Not just your friend."

His mother seemed stunned at this information, "But Morrigan?"

You flinched at the mention of her name. "Has the same taste as I do, mother," Eris was only looking at you. "And I do not support this idea," his grip on your arms grew tighter. "He is not a common idiot."

"Nor am I," you declared. "I would be smart. I'll be close enough to him to make sure he gets it every day. Even after just a week-"

Rhysand finished, "He'd be weak enough to call an emergency meeting or for one of us to declare the blood duel."

You nodded at the Lord of Night, not even stopping to admire his dark beauty with the grace of Autumn and Mother Nature stood before you in Eris's eyes. There was no world where you planned to be without him, no world where you could see yourself in arms besides his.

But for a week you would not have a choice. For a week, you would play the part you were expected to, and it began before you even had breakfast the next day. You were woken up by two handmaiden ripping you from your bed in the former Lady of Autumn's private chambers and throwing your half awake and now naked self into a bath.

Every inch of you was scrubbed almost raw before your hair was washed and scented to Beron's preference of roses. You were dried and dressed in almost no time, the heavy traditional gown feeling like shackles on your figure.

No cotton dresses if this failed.

No more nights in Eris's sweaters and nothing else.

Once your hair and makeup we're finished, you were not taken to breakfast. You were taken to lessons. Beron had assumed you knew nothing of formality, nothing of etiquette. You had not been presented to his courts, so what other assumption could he have made as you were retaught the differences in dinning utensils.

You would not see food until that even came, and then the mood quickly fizzled away as the table for two was filled. The only sound in the room was meat being cut, your breathing. You knew not to speak before the High Lord addressed you. You knew he was testing you with silence.

You did not see Eris in this male. There was no sign of the life that burned in Eris's eyes. No freckle of Beron's seemed to mimic the night sky the way Eris's did. There was nothing special to you about Beron Vanserra. Not even the bond was strong enough to make you want him.

"How were your lessons," his voice was falsely sweet. "I assume based on your manners they went well."

"They were lovely, High Lord," you responded. "A good refresher for everything my mother had already taught me."

Beron glanced at you, "Are you inferring you did not appreciate me setting you up with the finest tutor in my court?"

Eris would be whispering to you to tread carefully. Beron's very body language told you this was beginning to enter dangerous territory. "No, my lord," you said softly, "But I would hate for you to waste time and resources on me when I am sure there are better things to put them towards."

Beron leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he cocked his head, "You know how to play. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you, mate."

And you thoroughly enjoyed watching him drink the whiskey laced with 3 drops of poison.

The next day was different. Beron himself was dragging you places without food right away this morning. He was showing you off to different advisors all day, bragging about your beauty, your ability to manipulate flowering and fruiting plants into harvests sooner.

You had used your magic so much to show off for him that you could hardly stand as he affectionately held your chair out for dinner. "You did wonderfully today," he began eating after forcing you to say a prayer to the Mother.

He didn't get to hear the silent plea you sent her. The silent begging for mercy.

You sid get to hear him start coughing as he drank his tainted whiskey that night, though.

Eris was worried for you the third day. You had been sent to bed late, awoken early. Once again, not allowed food. He had stayed by your and Beron's side in meeting that day.

His amber eyes never left your form. He was openly staring at the way you couldn't help but lean on Beron in your exhausted state.

And when Beron stole you for dinner, Eris made sure to add extra poison to his drink, watching as you played the part of the perfect mate, rushing to help him as he began to cough up blood.

Illness among the fae was rare, but when it struck, it was deadly. By the end of day 4, the Forest House was a much quieter place. Beron was bed bound due to Eris's choice to expose him to the poison morning, noon, and night.

You had warned him that this poison was aggressive in large doses. He had also tested it on more brutal lesser fae tracking to attack innocent children to see that. It was brutal, focusing on getting into the smallest cells of blood before shutting down major organs quickly and painfully. You were sat beside his father, crying, playing the part, and Eris beside you, a distraught son.

Day 5 Eris slipped the poison in a high dose into Beron's pain medication before finding you. He had cornered you into a hall closet. You had been forced from bed far too early again, forced to skip meals again.

Eris knew this tactic. Had Beron been healthy, he would continue this until your brain associated Beron's presence with food. It was a way to make you comply, to rely on him.

Eris put an end to it right that moment. He ordered you to be given food, then rest. His father refused the tea Eris offered him that night. Took weak to even open his eyes.

You had underestimated yourself and your powers, or perhaps the smug male above you had more to with it than he let on, bit day 7, Beron was unresponsive. Eris held you down on the bed you two had shared so many times before, kissing your neck and whispering words of how he'd move the very foundations of this world for you when the knock came on his door.

He quickly hid you, allowing a healer to enter. Eris faked his reaction perfectly. He fell to his knees with a strangled cry, hand on his heart as the healer moved to comfort the young heir.

Beron was unresponsive.

And by night fall, Eris truly fell over. His very blood felt as if liquid fire had been poured into him. His hearth grew brighter, hotter.

It wasn't until your heart-wrenching scream came that Eris knew without doubt what had happened. No one had prepared for the outcome of you losing your mate. No one had even questioned what it would do.

They had been so focused on saving you that they had forgotten the most important part of the bond, Beron was the other half of your soul. Grief. Guilt. Joy. Anger. You had never felt like this. You had never imagined a world where you could feel so deeply it ached and made you sick.

You pushed healers away as you held Beron's hand. You pushed Eris away as he came to kneal beside you. You didn't want to feel this, yet you did. You did as he forced you up and out of the room. You did as Beron's body was burned before his ashes were given to the trees. You did as you watched Eris take his place.

The grief only stopped when Eris concerned you that night, his hands on your hips, and he led you to another room where a separate celebration took place. Anala stood in Day Court attire, laughing as Helion dipped her, laughing as Lucien smiled at her from across the room, Elain safely tucked to his side.

Eris's middle brother stood dancing with his male lover, the two of them just swaying. Mor was there with Emerie, lips by her ear gossiping. "I ache too at times," Eris looked at her, a longing in his eyes as he did. "I wonder if I made the right choice to let her go on my loneliest nights. Then I see you."

Eris kissed your knuckles, "I see you, and I regret nothing. Not even what I did in secret."

You looked at him then, "Eris?"

"I stole the black poison. The one you never tested. Every time he and I ate together, I slipped him that one as well."

Your face fell, "You-"

"Weren't going to risk it. Not with the female I am in love with being involved," Eris drank his wine slowly as he studied your reaction.

"So no big fight needed?"

"Oh, trust me, I wanted that," he clarified. "I didn't realize it would work as quickly as it did. I wasn't sure what you had been crafting. He died before I could challenge him, but before he could break you."

The two of you continued watching Helion and Anala, continued watching Lucien and Elain, his brother, Mor.

The grief did linger, but as you took his hand, it faded more. "Let's go dance, High Lady," he whispered into your ear.

And with each spin, every dip, the raise in laughter, the ache continued to fade.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[reason-with-the-underdog]

kaveh, a dreamer afraid of dreaming

remembering that kaveh was a kid when his father died, which means he still could dream... it must have been a relief when he got his akasha terminal as a teenager and could escape the relentless nightmares of his father's death

i hc kaveh as being pretty good at having silent nightmares! because he lived with his mom as a kid, and he had years of nightmares to practice being completely quiet at night so he wouldn't disturb his grieving mother

and so when he moves in with alhaitham, post-alcazarzaray bankruptcy, everything is fine at first because the akasha terminals remove their abilities to dream. but then the sumeru AQ happens, and now everyone in sumeru is dreaming again

(yes, ensue the hilarity as the people of sumeru discover wet dreams) but more seriously, the dismantling of the akasha network heralds the return of kaveh's childhood nightmares... which are obviously unpleasant to experience, so kaveh avoids that by leaning hard into his natural insomnia and trying to get more work or hobbies done instead of sleeping.

this would be fine, if kaveh lived alone, but he does not. it's been quite a long time since he's had to accommodate someone else in the house, so he's not as quiet as he thinks he's being when having (and avoiding) nightmares

now alhaitham might say something in passing about getting more sleep and having better work habits, but kaveh gets upset and withdrawn afterwards

which is weird bc normally kaveh responds with "Well at least i love my work!" and "that's passion for you!" and is otherwise pretty much unbothered by alhaitham's comments

alhaitham is stuck between a rock and a hard place here because he can obviously tell that something is wrong with kaveh, but kaveh also does not seem to want to confide in alhaitham. the last time alhaitham gave kaveh unsolicited but heartfelt advice about his life... uhhh yeah that didnt go so good

alhaitham historically is not good at watching from afar (especially while living with kaveh and seeing kaveh look like he's starting to fall apart from lack of sleep and nerves) but unfortunately alhaitham's approach of trying to broach the subject indirectly just pisses kaveh off more

and so they argue, and fight, until the time of the Interdarshan Tournament when kaveh's stated goal is to win the prize money to move out of a house where both residents hold each other in "mutual disdain"

the Parade of Providence event where alhaitham went off on his own to do a private investigation around kaveh's father's death (& sacchin's research) was instrumental for kaveh's mental health:

kaveh finally understands that alhaitham doesn't disdain him and the comments about kaveh's health are actually just genuine concern not snide jokes at kaveh's expense

the nightmares are better bc kaveh has closure finally about his dad's death

but also fantastic for alhaitham too!

no wonder alhaitham acted frustrated and snippy for a good part of PoP... (everytime he tries to talk to kaveh, even with good intentions, kaveh gets mad, so why bother....)

it lays the foundation for better communication between them going forward <3

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge (teaser)

PAIRING(S) | park sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE(S) | fluff, crack, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, influencer au (?)

EST. WORD COUNT | around 5k

WARNING(S) | profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad, mc is painfully dense + all warnings to be added in the full fic!

SUMMARY | being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

TAGLIST | @blank-velvet @soobisms @justalildumpling @xharisrealm @skzenhalove @alicesolengg @yenqa @geombyu @tika-writes-lol @jlheon @haknom @useraerin @hooniessslvrss @flwrshee @rikisly @tobiosbbyghorl @wonkivrse @heeflrs @bambithia @iea-tsand @chaechae-23 @en-dazed @jayfrvr @h-hazwie @moonlighthoon @justanotherkpopstanlol @sseastar-main @seongclb @shoyotime @gerianne @iadorethemskz @sieuneo @hoon0logy @luvistqrzzz @sucrosxi @lzux1 @t4kalcvr @nes-caf @odxrilove @trippy-dejun @arizejkt19 @xuimhao @vizstars @enhacatalog send an ask/comment if u wish!

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I AM COMING BACK!!!!!! (kinda. maybe. idk i get ahead of myself a lot LOL) finals are finallyyyy over and i have some time to write this week so i’ve started this old wip of mine! it’s going to be pretty short and sweet so i’ll hopefully be able to follow through on this teaser but no promises haha :)) i hope u look forward to this fic! inspired by h.j evelyn (♡)

click here for the full fic!

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen. 

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?��

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit truly went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was very long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”  

[imagines-by-cleo]

The Smell Of Apples

Part 1 of the Absolution series - part 2

John Ward x Fem!Reader

CW: religious imagery, priest kink/hierophilia, dub con, dirty talk, phone sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, wet dreams, masturbation, corruption, catholic guilt but sexy, we're getting a few years in purgatory for this

I've been getting way too into Faith the unholy trinity lately and this is the result of that.

There's an interview with the creator where he talks about every ending being cannon and John being a much more morally grey character than people realize so I played with that idea. I'm really proud of how this turned out, I would even be so dramatic to call it my magnum opus. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It starts as all mistakes like this do, innocently enough. One sunday morning after mass John is sitting there alone in a small chapel reading his bible as he's in the habit of doing. Then you come in, smiling sweetly but he can see something troubling behind your eyes. He returns the smile as he greets you, noticing a faint blush creep on your face when he calls your name.

"It's always good to see you." He says as he closes his bible and sets it aside making a place for you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is, Father." You answer, taking a seat beside him on the pew. "There's something I've been struggling with lately."

"Of course, my child." He comforts you, setting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Tell me all about it."

The blush on your cheeks returns, growing deeper as you take a moment to find the courage to share your heart with him. "I suppose it's the kind of thing you would take to confession, but I'm nervous. I've never confessed before."

The way you describe your troubles so sweetly leads him to believe you had never committed a sin in your life, he almost wants to laugh at the suggestion before he has to remember you were only human. John understands your hesitation though, being a relatively new priest he isn't entirely confident in his ability to hear sins and offer absolution, but he takes comfort in knowing that your inexperience matched his own, meaning any mistakes wouldn't be noticed right away.

"Confession is meant to unburden you of your sins, it can be daunting at first but you'll feel much better when we're done." He reassures you, keeping his hand on your shoulder as he moves closer. "I'll be here to guide you through every step of the way."

"Where do I begin?" You ask, encouraged by his words.

It warms his heart that you're so eager to take part in this cleansing ritual, while he was nervous at first now he was glad that it was him you decided to come to. Normally this was done in a booth, somewhere with more privacy, but it would be more comfortable for them both to stay there and not bar absolution with pointless formality.

"Usually you would begin by saying the words 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned.' Then you would tell me what's been troubling you." He explains, taking it step by step.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." You repeat, your voice a low reverent whisper.

The way you say that sacred phrase makes a chill run up his spine, though he's not sure why just yet.

"I've been struggling with..." You pause, looking for the proper words to describe your feelings. "Lustful thoughts."

John can feel his face go pale when he hears the subject, then he feels his cheeks heat up with a blush that mimics yours. Not even a few minutes into this confession and he realizes the true purpose of the sacred booth and the privacy it offers. He longs for that safety now but it's much too late, so he continues.

"Where are these thoughts coming from?" He asks, before having to clear his throat to correct to pitch of his voice. "And how often do you find yourself struggling with them?"

"There's someone close to me that I've been thinking about." You admit, beginning your story seeming so unassuming but slowly delving into something more sinful as you reveal more information. "It started so innocently, I just liked the way he smiled at me and now I can't stop thinking about him. I even have these thoughts during service now."

This particular bit of knowledge is the most shocking to the priest, before he had no idea that you were even capable of harboring these thoughts, let alone having them during such a sacred time while he was so close to you. As he continues he worries how this may affect how he looks at you in the future.

"How do you feel about this person? Perhaps what you're feeling is just misplaced love." He suggests, still trying to maintain the image of the sweet chaste girl he had spoken to moments ago.

"I think very highly of him, he's actually a very holy man, but I can't help but have these unholy thoughts about him." You explain, a tinge of guilt in your voice at this aspect of your admission.

John takes a deep breath in, trying his best not to look frustrated as he tries to reason with the two opposing images in his head. "Is it the holiness that you find so appealing about this man? If so it could be your desire to be holy yourself."

"Oh no, it's not like that, it's..." You look away from him as the blush deepens on your face, unable to article the details of your thoughts.

He takes your hands in a comforting gesture and feels them trembling in his grasp, you inhale sharply as you both touch but he keeps his hold steady, determined to be the one to help you through this no matter the discomfort at first.

"There's no need to be afraid, anything you share here is just between us." He assures you, your shaking doesn’t cease immediately but it calms slightly at the sound of his voice. "Now tell me, are these thoughts about any specific actions? Or is it just a feeling of longing?"

You seem to think for a moment before answering, glancing down at where your hands met, back up at him, then away again with red cheeks. "It was just longing at first, then I thought about things like how his hands felt when they were holding mine, and how they would feel touching me in other places..."

John should have pulled his own hands away when you said that, but he couldn't bring himself too. Suddenly he felt the need to hear more of the confessions that made him so apprehensive at a few moments ago.

"How do you feel after you have these thoughts? Do you feel guilty? Or maybe even satisfied?" It feels like a different person asking these questions as they flow from his mouth, but they're driven by a need that is entirely his own.

"I feel so guilty, Father, but I don't know how to explain it. The guilt just makes it more tempting." You tell him, your voice quivering in shame.

This strikes a chord with the priest, he knows the exact feeling you're describing all too well. At this point he knows he should stop, offer penance, grant absolution and go separate ways. Though before he can speak up you continue.

"When I 'indulge' these thoughts the guilt makes it more intense." You explain, raising more questions.

"How do you indulge these thoughts, my child?" He inquires, without the chance think of how bad of an idea it is to delve further into this.

"Oh, Father, it's so shameful." You look away and cover your mouth in reluctance to answer, a faint glimmer of forming tears shines in your eyes as the last remnant of your chaste persona disapates.

"It's a very common struggle for young women, there's no need to feel ashamed. Tell me how these desires take hold of you so we can fight your temptation together." In this moment he feels less like the holy man he should be and more like the serpent whispering in your ear, either way your trust is completely in his hands.

"Well sometimes late at night, when praying doesn't work I-" You pause as your breath quickens, admitting your guilt in barely a whisper yet the words seem to echo through the small chapel. "I touch myself..."

John has already anticipated the words before they left your lips, but they still made him shudder with sinful delight. He could pretend this desire inside him didn't have a name or a purpose until now, but it was unmistakably revealed to be the same struggle that you came to him to have forgiven.

"I see..." He replies, tugging at his collar and feeling the sweat begining to dampen it as the air in the small chapel seems to get hotter and fills with a sweet scent that could only be your perfume. "What are your intentions when you 'indulge'? Is it just to relieve your burden or do you let your mind wander?"

"I only wanted to relieve the burden at first, to get it off my mind, but it felt so good to give in, and now I think about him doing all kinds of things to me." The answer comes out between short and shallow breaths, every question answered on the brink of sobbing. "I shouldn't be feeling this way about someone like him, but I can't help it."

Without considering how inappropriate it might be John puts his arm around you, shushing you as he holds you close. From here he can smell your perfume overpowering the chapel incense, creating a sweet aroma that weakened his resolution with every passing breath. His heart races as he wrestles with his own voyeuristic urges while trying to guide you through your own temptation.

"It's alright, I'm here to help, you can trust me." He assures, though the words are more to convince himself than to console you. "The path to absolution is difficult and frightening, but there's no same in walking that road."

With a few deep breaths to collect your emotions you prepare to finish your confession as you wipe the tears from your eyes. "Thank you, Father."

"Now are you ready to tell me more?" He smiles wide, it's meant to be comforting but it stems from the pride he can't help but feel in his ability to make you trust him so easily. "You've tried praying, but when that fails does this indulgence make your thoughts worse, or do you feel too guilty?"

"Well, I suppose it does both." You answer, no less ashamed of your feelings but much more forthcoming with the details he wants to hear. "When finally I give in the guilt makes it so much more intense, then it's so hard to stop. I do it over and over, sometimes for hours at night."

John holds his breath as every secret is shared, the magnitude of this burden is much more than he even could have imagined in his most sinful fantasies. He wants to be there, to watch you writhe, to make you writhe with pleasure and guilt. For a moment he forgets his purpose, having to remind himself that even if he isn't thinking like one that he is still a priest.

"My child, are you familiar with the concept of penance?" He asks as the most perfect plan comes to mind, it is his duty to help and this will benefit both of you.

"Not really." You answer, though unfamiliar you seem relieved to have the end of your burdens in sight.

Excellent.

"I'm determined to help you through this, for your penance I want you to write down every thought you've ever had about this man." He orders, doing his best not to seem too excited to see the results.

A flicker of doubt flashes in your wide eyes, not in his wisdom but in the practicality of this task. "Every one, Father?"

"Yes, and when you've finished bring them to me so I can absolve you." He adds on, hoping the promise of absolution will make your penance easier to accomplish.

"But, Father, what if someone saw what I wrote? What would they think?" You ask, suddenly sounding much more the innocent virgin John thought you were before this.

"I promise to keep everything you write between us and God." His vow is less for your privacy and more for his safety, but he continues to endanger himself in new ways as his intrusive thoughts get the better of him. "And anytime you ever feel the need to 'indulge' again, you have my number. After you pray about it I want you to call me."

"That might be difficult, you see I've been doing it during the day now too." You tell him, your reluctance born from consideration and kindness he no longer deserved. "I wouldn't want to burden you like that, Father."

John shifts in his seat at this revelation, knowing how desperate you are constantly does the opposite of deter him from this task.

"This is your soul at stake, it's my duty to help you any time of the day or night. This is a burden we will bear together." He reassures you as he does his best to hide the eagerness that burns up his entire body. "Can you do this, my child?"

"Yes, Father." You answer, completely unaware of the path he was leading you down.

"I look forward to hearing from you." Perhaps the only honest thing he had said since the begining of this confession.

He rises from the pew, kissing you gently on the forehead before he leaves and letting his lips linger for just a little longer than they should. Leaving you there in the chapel to contemplate the task you're about to undertake, fully believing it would lead to your absolution. You were so easy to convince, the only thing left was for John to convince himself that this was the right thing and not his own indulgence in the same temptation the woman he was supposed to help had battled.

As the day went on, he almost felt regret, and if he would have dwelled on that any longer he would have called you and put an end to this. One thought occupied the forefront of his mind though, the "holy man" you mentioned. It really could have been any member of the church, but it wasn't so farfetched to think it was a priest, why else would you be feeling so much guilt for natural pleasures instead of just persuing them? If it was a priest then it was likely that it was himself you were thinking of, every time you blushed when he smiled at you suddenly made sense.

It's an intoxicating thought that carries him into the night, imagining being the object of your desires. The innocent crush on your priest turning into something far more serious until it consumes you night and day. There was at least one sin he is committing, though he isn't sure if it's pride in himself or lust for you. If he keeps it in the frame of confession he can continue to believe it was neither and he was only guiding this lost lamb into a better understanding of the desires that plagued her.

The hours seem longer, eventually John finds himself alone with nothing to distract him from these thoughts. Staring at his phone across the room long enough that it had felt like it was staring back and judging him. It isn't too late to rectify this. Of course if he stands by the belief that he hadn't made a mistake there's be no need to correct anything, right?

It's pointless going back and forth with himself like this, he's going to be arguing with no one at all for the rest of the night at this rate. He looks around for something to distract him and the second he does the phone rings, the sound of it rattling his very soul.

He picks up the receiver, his voice hardly sounds like his own as he answers sheepishly. "Hello?"

"Father? I'm sorry to call you so late at night, is this a bad time?" Your voice comes like a siren call from the other end of the line.

"Of course not." He answers perhaps a little too cheerfully, he'll have to make an effort to tone his enthusiasm down as he speaks. "How can I help you, my child?"

"It sounds so silly now that I say this out loud, but I was feeling tempted tonight so I started to write down my thoughs like you told me." You begin to explain, building anticipation with every word.

"It's my duty to guide you through your penance no matter how insignificant your troubles seem." He reassures you, those words aren't entirely wrong; that must be why they twist his heart as he says them in this context. "I'm glad to hear you're taking this so seriously, tell me more."

"Well, it's difficult at night, especially when I'm alone with these thoughts." You continue, a slight shaking in your breath that he can almost feel though the phone. "I think writing them down is making it worse."

"You're tempted to 'indulge' again?" He asks, straight to the point."

"Yes, Father." You admit with a sigh of shame. "I'm so sorry."

John shudders at your admission, for a moment he finds himself at a crossroads. One path where he can offer the guidance that you need, that he is vow bound to give you, the other where he can indulge these new intimidating feelings that are brewing deep in his soul. He was so close to either outcome, knowing he's the first person you think of now when you're filled with temptation. Surely it wouldn't hurt his soul or yours if he asked for details. How else would he help you? How else would he help himself?

"There's no need to aplologize." He tells you, his voice low and soft. "You're not alone anymore, I'm here with you. If it's too difficult to write then you can simply tell me now."

"It's just that... I saw him today and I noticed his lips." You begin, bringing images of when he had kissed your forehead after confession to mind. "I thought about how soft they were, and how they would feel on my skin."

"Go on, the more you tell me the more I can absolve." He promises, dangling salvation in front of you like bait.

"I thought of him kissing me, first on my face, then my body, then up my thighs..." You whisper reluctantly at first but slowly getting more comfortable, every word making your confessors head spin.

John takes the phone over to his bed, exhaling deeply as he lays back. Taking a moment to imagine the feel of your thighs, if you would gasp and sigh like this while being kissed in forbidden places, he even swears he can smell your perfume again. He's drowning in these images, fighting to keep himself afloat.

"You're doing great." He praises, knowing exactly how you blush when he compliments you during the day.

A sharp inhale comes from the other line, an indication his manipulations were working. "I wanted his tongue inside me, I wanted him to make me moan and beg..."

With his eyes closed John relishes the sound of your breath as it grows heavier until he can practically feel it warming his ears from over the phone. Doing his best to ignore the tightness growing in his pants as it throbs to the rhythm of your every sweet gasp.

"I just needed him so bad when I wrote this." You confess as the last remnants of your strength waver. "I wanted to touch myself so bad."

For a moment he considers letting you indulge, though he's having trouble coming up with a good excuse for allowing it. What's left of his conscience is telling him to stop, apologize, hang up the phone, take a cold shower, anything to end this while he can. The coiling heat in the pit of his stomach is telling him, begging him to give permission to give in to both your desires, to have them be forgiven after the fact if they're so wrong.

"You need to ease this burden." He tells you as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. "It's alright, go ahead."

"Are you sure, Father? Can I?" You ask with no doubt in your voice, only a desperate need for the permission only he can give.

"On one condition," He adds as an involuntary smile creeps on to his face. "You have to tell me every single thought you have while you indulge."

"Yes, Father." You sigh as the sound of rustling fabric comes over the phone. "I can do that."

The touch of his hand on his own skin burns like sweet hellfire, the kind that would strike fear into his heart and make him stray away from any other temptation but this. When he's finally free from the confines of his pants he inhales sharply, facing his own desires head on. There's no denying it now, there's no way out now.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, his breath heavy and voice low.

"I'm- ugh... I'm thinking of... him. Being here, watching me." You whine your confession, struggling to find the words in your sin clouded mind. "Or listening to me..."

That last part makes him shudder, he lets out a long slow exhale away from the receiver to hide his reaction. "And what would 'he' do if he saw you like that?"

"I don't know, but..." Your answer is cut off by a short moan, followed by a few gasping breaths as you regain your composure. "I would be so embarrased, but I think I would like it."

Once again John can't help but cast himself in the role of this mystery man, he almost wants to demand you say his name, to admit that it was him and you were only fulfilling your exibitionist desires. No, he can get more out of you if he continues to be the devoted priest only interested in your soul. He shudders again at the sinful schemes he only now learns he's capable of crafting.

He pulls his mind away from his intentions and focuses on yours. "Is that what you really want? A witness to your sin?"

"I want it so bad." You concede, your moans mix with what sounds like shameful sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The picture of you with tears streaming down your face, distraught and begging for both attention and absolution is so vivid he can swear it's happening before his eyes. Here he is witnesing you like you wanted, reducing you to a creature of base desires without even touching you. In every way that matters he is this "holy man" you're dreaming of.

"You have nothing to be sorry for anymore." He holds back his own racing breath to instruct you. "Purge these desires as soon as they come."

Wet slopping sounds can be heard over the phone, your moans shift into a higher key before you simply state. "I want more."

The guise of confession is nearly completely stripped away, John can hardly pretend to be the concerned and doting priest as the images conjured up in his head get even more depraved. As he grips the very instrument of his sin tighter he tilts his head up and mouths a silent prayer of forgiveness to the one he hopes isn't watching now.

"You need this, release your burden." He encourages, both you and himself.

"I want him inside me!" You whine, completely undignified as you pour your heart and soul out over the line.

"Good, good..." He pants, your sins merge, making him as much of your victim as you are his. "Tell me all of it."

You immediately obey him without a second thought. "I want him to make me cum... I want him to cum too..."

John groans audibly as your confession gets more and more intense, what's left of his composure is dissolving with every detail revealed. He knows if he were there he could give the real thing to you, and he would let your moans and pleas drag him straight to hell. His hand now seems like a poor alternative to willing body, but he pumps it faster as he chases those forbidden thoughts.

He swallows before simply asking. "Where?"

"Inside me, all over me, anywhere!" You scream deliriously, making it more and more obvious that you're close to the absolution you seek.

With a few whispered curses John lets the images flood his mind, trying to control his movements so he doesn't act that fantasy before you do.

"Ah! I'm almost- Oh! Father!" You call out to him as you fill the receiver with sweet moans he never could have imagined in his most depraved moments.

He waits for the gasps and wet noises to come to a complete halt before he absolves you, but they never stop.

"Are you still there?" He asks with a hint of confusion, waiting with heavy bated breath.

"I made such a mess... if he were here he could clean it up with his tongue..." You tell him with such shameless detail, the confession was not over.

His mouth waters at that thought as he draws in a sharp shaking breath, unable to draw the line between his perverted thoughts and his controlled act he blurts out. "Let your own tongue carry his burden then."

The heavy moans on the other line are muffled, leading John to believe you were licking the sin off your fingers this very moment. He swallows hard and grips his cock tighter with his now shaking hand as he listens closeer.

"More, I want more." You groan desperately into the phone, continuing to indulge.

He sighs your name along with a a few quiet curses. "Is there no end to your cravings?"

"I'm sorry, it just feels so good, I can't stop." You explain, or more accurately whimper.

John can barely hide how he gives in to his own shameful desires, unintentionally letting out noises he had never heard himself make before while he brazenly fucks his own hand. The bed creaks as his hips buck up into the tight grip of his fist, he lulls his head back and wishes it was you.

"Father! Father!" You scream as your second orgasm erupts, loud enough it practically echos through his own bedroom.

"Yes!" He shouts as you both reach the heights of absolute depravity together.

The tension in his body snaps as the sin covers his fingers, he continues to stroke himself until he's too soft and sensitive to indulge anymore. He lays his head back and waits for the weight in his chest to be lifted, but it only weighs heavier with every burst of sacrilegious release.

There is a long pause before either of you speak, it's difficult to find the words, or any words whatsoever. As soon as your breath slows it speeds up again in a panicked realization of what you had done.

"I'm so sorry, I know I should learn to control myself better, I'm so ashamed-" You babble on a long list of regrets that John is far too dazed to listen to now.

"It's alright, it's alright. You're forgiven." He cuts off your hysterical apologies, as soon as the words leave his mouth he feels something twist in the pit of his stomach.

"Thank you, Father." You let out a sigh of relief as you slowly begin to calm down

"Are you going to be okay now?" He asks, showing scraps of genuine compassion he was surprised to find remaining among his selfish desires.

"Yes, Father." You answer, the serenity that comes with absolution apparent in your voice.

He smiles when he hears your reply, finding some solace in the fact that he was able to help in some small way in spite of everything. "Well then, it's getting late. I'll see you on Sunday?"

"Of course." You whisper into the phone before hanging up, the soft words sound like they were meant for a lover and not a man of the cloth. "Goodnight."

When the call ends John holds the phone to his heaving chest, his heart pounding as he sits in silence for what seems like eons with the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He can hardly move just laying there soaking in the stains of his sin, both reveling in the satisfaction and fearing the inevitable consequences.

There were so many times tonight when he could have ended it, so many times this morning when he could have kept this from happening at all. He didn't even know where to begin asking for forgiveness or if he was even sorry.

Sunday. The day couldn't come soon enough and yet it was creeping up on him along with a looming sense of dread knowing he would fail this test of faith again; and again if the opportunity arose. Something dark in his soul hoped that he would get that chance to sin again.

Sleep does not come easily to him that night.

John's dreams are haunted by the vision of a woman, her voice is smooth as she calls out to him, her soft skin burns to the touch but he can't pull his hands away and lets them sear in her embrace. Even in places he had never been touched before the feel of her fingers and her body pressed tightly against his was so real, in such stark contrast to the ever changing fog of the surrounding dream.

Whispering things he had never said, please, more, more. Moving his body in ways he had never tried grinding, writhing, thrusting. It was both liberating and damning, the only other feeling was the sensation of falling, faster and faster even while he was held so tightly. His eyes jolt open when he hits the ground he can't see.

When his body jerks John is thrust into the waking world all at once, longing for a fraction of the warmth he felt seconds ago. His skin is cold, covered in sweat, there's another wetness soaking into the sheets and rapidly cooling under his body.

Grinding his hips forward in a motion he realizes he must have been doing all through his dreams he feels the remnants of desire he did not expect to follow him into the waking world. With an unsteady hand he lifts the covers to inspect the sensation, finding his pants, sheets and even the bottom of his shirt to be marked with several stains made through the night in various stages of drying.

John lets out a shaking gasp as he rolls forward once again, rutting into the soiled mattress and using it as a substitute for the woman in his dream that he now recognizes. He calls her name much quieter than she had called him the night before, whimpering into his pillow like a plea for mercy.

As he reaches into his pajama bottoms he feels the effects of his sin and his cock throbbing for attention, he must have came two or three times in the night and he's still hard as a rock. His face grows hot and he curls up as if to hide while he strokes himself, though there isn't a soul here to witness his indulgence.

It is the shame that makes it more intense, the guilt even more so. Now that John knew you told the truth about this temptation and he had led you again down that path the guilt eats him alive, and he had never felt anything more heavenly. Every little moan he lets out is something between a gasp in surpise at the sensations he feels and a whine of embarrassment as he pumps his fist faster and faster.

The feeling of corruption fills his body and seeps into his bones, it courses through his veins and makes his heart beat like a doom drum, it clouds his mind and stains his very soul like the sheets he's about to ruin completely.

All these conflicting feelings chase each other around like a whirlwind while John races toward the peak of his indulgence, the guilt and the shame follow him wherever his filthy thoughts wander. He thinks of a circle of hell described by Dante meant for those consumed by lust. He thinks of being damned there together with you. He thinks of you. He shudders.

The morning light begins to shine in his room, gently greeting him like an old friend. Staring at the rays of sunlight coming through the window and feeling the full weight of the bags that have formed under his eyes, John is silent in mind and body. There are no racing thoughts, not images of the forbidden, only an all encompassing shame.

His tired gaze turns to the cross hanging above his bed and the feeling grows worse. It's not the image of pure holiness that makes him ashamed, only how near it is. He knows he's not beyond forgiveness, not even now, he just lacks the will to reach out and take it.

John slowly pulls the covers over his body until he can't see it and hides himself between the stained sheets until he finds the will again.

[chemblrish]

Maria Skłodowska-Curie. That's it, that's the post.

As per my poll, here's a post on MSC!

This post began as a bit of a messy thing. I wanted to write about MSC because she was a brilliant Polish woman who became one of the most important scientists of modern chemistry and physics and I, as a Polish woman and a science major, admire her greatly. But the whole thing was vague and lacked direction. I received some kindly advice though and decided to focus on this: what was Maria like? Everybody knows she had an exceptional mind, that she had close ties with Paris, that she discovered radium and polonium, that she received the Nobel prize twice… But did you know she was said to have “serious, gray eyes” or that her initial plan was to spend her life working as a teacher or that she loved her homeland deeply? Underneath her doubtlessly exceptional achievements she was a person, and I’d love to take a look at that.

Maria Skłodowska ("skwo-DOV-ska") was born on 7 November 1867 in Warsaw under Russian occupation. Her father was a mathematics and physics teacher, so it may seem natural that little Maria took an interest in science, but as a child she was a phenomenal student in general, no matter the subject; she read a lot of books, and she learnt to read very early. She was considered very gifted. 

Her family wasn’t rich by any means. Maria’s father – a Polish man, a school teacher under the tzar’s merciless reign – knew very well he couldn’t afford to give all his children the education he wanted for them, not to mention neither Maria nor her older sister Bronia were allowed to attend university in occupied Poland. Making their dreams come true – studying at the Sorbonne – depended on the money they didn’t have.

At 17 Maria made a decision: she was going to work as a teacher while Bronia pursued medicine in Paris with the help of the money earned by Maria. After Bronia’s graduation they would switch: Bronia was going to work as a doctor while Maria attended university.

It was by no means an easy task. During the following years Maria had to withstand not only immensely hard work and a longing for learning, but also unfair employers, lack of respect, and heartbreak. But she persisted. She was 24 when finally she was able to pack up and take the train to Paris.

[source]

Soon after taking up her studies at the Sorbonne did Maria realize how far behind the other students she was: they were able to pursue an official education in a free country, something she’d never gotten to experience before. She had been an excellent student back in Poland, a fluent French speaker, but now it turned out her knowledge was lacking. Obviously, this couldn’t discourage her. Bronia’s husband Kazimierz wrote in a letter to her father that Maria would spend entire days at her university, only coming home in the evening. She worked admirably hard to catch up. And she was happy: at long last she could study science and mathematics in depth, the way she had longed to do for so many years.

Of course, money never stopped being an issue. Even with her father’s and sister’s help, she was still poor. She definitely wasn’t eating enough. In winter, she was cold. Other than that, she mostly gave up on her colleagues, refused to waste her time on “insignificant” things: that is, everything but studying, unfolding the secrets of chemistry and physics, practicing her laboratory skills. She was living and breathing science.

[left / right]

Pierre Curie was older, an exceptional physicist, charming and calm, still unmarried at 35 – he wouldn’t love a woman who couldn’t be first and foremost his intellectual partner. But Maria wasn’t looking for love and she certainly wasn’t looking for a marriage. She had a degree in physics, was on her way to get a degree in mathematics as well, all the while working on the magnetism of steel. And indeed, when they met through a professor who thought Pierre might be of help to young Maria, it was mostly curiosity, mutual respect, and primarily a great scientific interest that bloomed between them and brought them closer together.

Maria didn’t give in easily. All along her plan had been to earn her degrees and return to Warsaw, to her elderly father, and remain working as a teacher for the rest of her life. But there’s no doubt that when she eventually agreed to marry Pierre, it was out of genuine, deep love. They had a sincere, precious connection, both emotional and intellectual.

Did you know Maria and Pierre loved to travel the countryside on their bikes? They did. It’s how they spent most of their time together after their wedding. And not for a moment did they forget about their shared passion for science – they discussed it even during their travels. They lived together and they worked together. Their first child Irène – future Nobel prize winner as well! – was born in September 1897, Ève – their younger daughter – seven years later.

Pierre’s family adored Maria, Maria’s family loved Pierre. The two of them would frequently visit Pierre’s parents and they continued their biking trips, but other than that their life was utterly devoted to science. I know, it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but it’s true. Along with the fact they always had very little money, work was all they had.

Radium appeared in Maria’s life when she was working on her doctorate. Her laboratory was cold, damp, and badly equipped, but it seems to me Maria’s determination was inexhaustible. She began by studying uranium, but she soon figured out she had to include other elements in her research as well in order to solve the mystery at hand. It was only after a year of this work that Maria realized she might have discovered an element previously unknown.

Pierre was interested in Maria’s research before, but – save from the occasional advice as an older and more experienced scientist – he mostly left her to do her own thing while he focused on his crystals. At this point however, he was so intrigued he abandoned his research to work with Maria on her project. In 1898 (two years into Maria’s PhD work!) they published a paper together – in it they announced the discovery of a new element: polonium, named after Maria’s beloved homeland. Later that year, they did the same for radium. They coined the term “radioactivity”.

Maria kept a meticulous journal, not only for her laboratory work. She was carefully tracking their spending as well as Irène’s development, the way she learnt to walk and speak and play with their cat.

And so, her life continued: filthy, hard work in the infamous shed, a ton of an ore for less than a gram of product (!), countless papers published with her dearest husband, watching their daughter grow, earning her doctorate degree; then, in 1903, her first Nobel prize (along with her husband and Henri Becquerel).

The Nobel prize brought Maria and Pierre fame – and it was a tragedy. For them, at least. Modest and humble as they were, they couldn’t stand the journalists almost storming their garden, going as far as “describing [their] black and white cat [in the newspapers]” as Pierre said in a letter to a friend. I allowed myself to translate a piece of a letter that Maria sent to her brother in 1904 amid the post-Nobel craze, as it’s both sad and hilarious:

“I wish you health [for your name-day], well-being for all of your family, and for you never to experience the sort of correspondence and assault that we are now subjected to. Ever since that accursed Nobel prize we’ve been unable to do anything, and I’m beginning to ask myself if the money we received will be of any consolation, as, after all, the people who sell me meat, coal, sugar, etc. are richer than me yet they do not experience such sorrows. […] and yesterday some American wrote to me, asking for permission to name a race horse after me.”

Maria’s life took a truly sharp turn when Pierre died in an accident in 1906. Despite the tragedy that irreparably crushed her heart, she never ceased her work. She became a professor, organized classes for her and her friends’ kids, ran the Radium Institute, continued her research, received her second Nobel prize. During World War I it was her mobile X-ray machines that saved countless lives: she was active and involved, operating the machines with her older daughter and teaching others how to do it.

[left / right]

She lived long enough to see her dear, beloved Poland become an independent country once more. To the very end she remained humble and uninterested in fame, hardworking and dedicated entirely to science.

I based this post mostly on Madame Curie by her daughter Ève which I highly recommend!

[mvshortcut]

15 questions, 15 mutuals.

Tagged by @trentcrimminallybeautiful thank you gert my beloved <3

Are you named after anyone? - Yes, but I don't really feel a connection to my birth name much, so I'd rather talk about my online chosen names! For the name Fallon, I just picked it because I liked the vibes honestly and also after an oc I made when I was really little. And as for the beloved name bestowed unto me, Milk. I made a typo introducing myself ("Gallon") and it stuck 😔<3

When was the last time you cried? - hm, probably a couple weeks ago? I cry when I get hungry lmao

Do you have kids? - This bear flowerpot thingy is my beloved son:

But as for human children, no.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?- unsure if absurd threats of eating furniture in response to Cool Art/Fic count as sarcasm, but if so, yes

What's the first you notice about people? - if they have a Funky Outfit on I'll probably notice that first (and then get too intimidated to talk to them because they're CoolTM)

What's your eye colour? - brown

Scary movies or happy endings? - happy ending sorry I'm a coward

Any special talents? - I play violin, and I'm particularly adept at making typos

Where were you born? - hospital

What are your hobbies? - writing, reading, rug-hooking, cooking/baking, going on walks in nature

Have you got any pets? - yes, this is my beloved fool of a dog Clyde:

What sports do you play/have you played? - none on a team, but I like playing tennis and roller skating

How tall are you? - 5'5" I think?

Favourite subject in school? - used to be English lit, but I'm a sociology/gender studies major now. but I also love Italian despite not being very good at it!

Dream job? - currently looking to go into academia! (scary!) but if I could have any job in the world, it might have to do with marine bio/conservation, or cooking, or writing, or an archivist of some sort, or a forensic entomologist, or someone who Sorts things all day, or-

Tagging (no pressure of course!) : @shiningsagittarius @never-wake-up @personinthepalace @xkurtwagner @hangrybluewhale @ae-jurumi @middle-class-trash @deeskip @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @papermillll @amysterywrappedinanenigma @nobody33333333 @sophieswundergarten @itsgoghtime @kneeslapworthy @oflightningandstars @rebecca-mbs-fan @phtalogreenpoison @crow-in-springtime @heyitsthatonesmolgay @lemondropletters

ok listen I know it said 15 but I got carried away-

that being said I definitely am forgetting people - if you see this, this is your open invitation to join (and I do mean that!)

[pedroscurls]

get to know your mutuals

thanks for the tag @lubdubology @themareverine @princessanglophile <3

what's the origin of your blog title?: - i think it's best if i just show you. the curls were CURLIN that night and i've been obsessed ever since.

favorite fandoms: oof - that's a tough one. i've been in a few fandoms before this one, but aside from the pedro fandom, the negan/jdm fandom was by far one of my favorite times in my life 🥹

OTP(s) + shipname: joel miller + me, frankie morales + me, marcus acacius + me... (shipname - idk lol) 🤭

favorite color: i go back and forth quite a lot, but forest green might be my go-to

favorite game: the last of us (part 1 btw) - i have played that shit like 8 times now lmao

song stuck in your head: at my worst by pink sweat$

weirdest habit/trait?: oh i know so many commercial jingles that i'll literally stop what i'm doing to sing along if it comes on lmao

hobbies: writing, working out, and photography

if you work, what's your profession?: i'm in edtech (currently a team lead that assists with pre- and post-enrollment)

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: photographer (i've always had this dream that my photographs would be in a museum or i'd work for nat geo)

something you're good at: photography (and it's only taken me 15 years to finally admit that lmao)

something you're bad at: building anything (listen - i can follow the instructions... it's not my fault that most of the time i have to redo it lol)

something you love: taking pictures, spending time with family, and my soul dog, Kobe

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: oh i don't think i can talk about something for hours (i'm naturally a very quiet person)

something you hate: aside from what the US is gonna be after jan 20? i hate when people are very inconsiderate of others...

something you collect: cameras + lenses (it's an expensive hobby lol)

something you forget: everything??? (my memory is shit nowadays)

what's your love language?: words of affirmation and physical touch (tell me you're proud of me while cupping my cheek 🙂‍↕️)

favorite movie/show: surprisingly, i don't have a fave movie, but fave show? modern family, hands down (it got me through a very rough year)

favorite food: chicken nuggets lol

favorite animal: i love quokkas omg

are you musical?: nope lol (i wish tho)

what were you like as a child?: a brat (ask my parents) - my parents used to think i'd grow up to be a lawyer bc i just loved to argue any chance i could get

favorite subject at school?: english! (so much that i got my bachelors in it lol)

least favorite subject?: science (it took me three times to pass bio 101 in community college)

what's your best character trait?: people have told me that i've got the biggest heart (and sometimes, that backfires on me)

what's your worst character trait?: hmm - i don't think i'm ever good enough

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?: i'd like to just be less stressed out (can i just win the lottery and never have to work again?)

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: frank sinatra (would love to hear him sing live lol)

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): my favorite question so far (and this not even the full list - i really need to make one bc everyone on this site is just so talented ok)

with all my love by @lonely-ey3s (joel miller)

two weeks notice by @yxtkiwiyxt (dave york)

guilty as sin by @ovaryacted (marcus acacius)

diet pepsi by @logansbaby (old man!logan)

prima nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin

stranger at my gate by @leslie-lyman

late night texts by @jolapeno

--

no pressure tags: @yxtkiwiyxt @ovaryacted @logansbaby @whimsiwitchy @wadewnstonwilson @lonely-ey3s @th3mrskory + anyone else who would like to do this :)

[snoopyviktor]

ooo thank u @joyful-soul-collector for the tag <3

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? i love snoopy and viktor and i think they'd be best buddies in another universe

OTP(s) + Shipname: currently i loveeee jayvik!!! but im also a massive fan of zelink (zelda + link). and loumand hehe

Favorite color: baby blue!

i'll put the rest of the questions under this so this post is not too long!

Favorite game: any zelda game!! it's my favourite game series of all time. i also love bg3 / DnD, twd telltale series, outer wilds, minecraft, acnh, and i'm currently playing RDR2 for first time and enjoying it!

Song stuck in your head: which witch by florence & the machine

Weirdest habit/trait? i have hypermobile/double jointed hands, as well as shoulders and hips. so i'm always popping out my shoulders, hips, and touching my thumbs to my wrist lol.

Hobbies: writing, figure skating, swimming, i also do casual ballet classes and i'm learning violin :)

If you work, what's your profession? studying to become a phlebotomist for now but in the future i'm wanting to go into medical imaging!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? my dream job is a cardiac sonographer. hopefully in about a decade i will be one

Something you're good at: figure skating, i like to think writing (but that's maybe debatable lol), and tetris. yea. the game

Something you're bad at: quite a lot of things, and thats ok

Something you love: role playing/story based games!!!.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: my special interests - zelda, post-apocalypse media with a focus on zombie genre and skating (especially yuzuru!)

Something you hate: leather. it's a sensory thing

Something you collect: azura blind boxes, fruit stickers and cute tags from clothes

Something you forget: where i last put an item

What's your love language? physical touch and gift giving

Favorite movie/show: currently arcane! but i also love the walking dead (up until about season 6), iwtv, james cameron's avatar, Coraline, wallace and gromit, and spirited away.

Favorite food: braised beef noodle soup

Favorite animal: bears and whale sharks

What were you like as a child? incredibly autistic lmfao . i used to stack things together and organise canned food into colours

Favorite subject at school? history, it was my best subject and i had an amazing teacher who encouraged us to think critically. i'm still in touch with her even 7yrs after graduating

Least favorite subject: general sciences. i love biology, but i found general science to be boring because i'm not that good at physics or chemistry.

What's your best character trait? well, my self identity is all over the place on most days, so i'm not really sure lol. maybe it's that i'm kind? haha

What's your worst character trait? i can get quickly overwhelmed / overstimulated and then i'm not the greatest person to be around. it's a lot better now that i'm older, though

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? i would like to feel safe :')

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? ooooo... is this meant to be about historical figures? because my answer would be my great grandmother when she was younger. it's been six years since she passed away and i miss her so deeply. the kindest woman i've ever known! <3

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!! omg ok. here's me trying to remember who all my mutuals are . @arkaniske @cheriekos @voxconcordia @awretchedthing @juuzousmom @softandslow @ttwwiiissttyy @oraccles @patheticjayce @maniiix @itsfheang @mementokore @cloudrcs @decayingstarchild @j1mmycreat3s @mothgardens @rams0up + anyone else who wants to do it :p

[knifeturtlelives]

My Writing - Masterlist

making myself a new pinned post so you can find all my OFMD writing in one place 💜

Canon Era:

gotta see a man about a dinghy (G, 2k) - s1e09 missing scene. Ed mugs a guy for his dinghy and gets to enjoy 10 seconds of happiness before everything falls apart.

Ed. Oh, Ed. (T, 4k) - Takes place between s1e10 and s2e02. A few different glimpses of Stede's "Ed. Oh, Ed" dreams. Technically a WIP, but each chapter can be read as a standalone.

Of All the Gin Joints (T, 10K) - Diverges from canon sometime during Impossible Birds. Basically, what if Ed went for a drink at Jackie'z while Stede was still working there?

Picture Taken Moments Before Disaster (M, 4k) - s2e07 missing scene. Still living in the afterglow, Ed and Stede walk over to Jackie'z for that drink, and Stede is very smitten.

Post-Canon/Post Season 2:

can't keep my hands to myself (I mean I could, but why would I want to?) (E, 5k) - Ed and Stede retire from piracy and attempt to open an inn. Or they would, if they could stop fucking for long enough to get the place into shape.

Oh, be my once in a lifetime (E, 7k) - An extremely soft + emotional look at their first night in the inn together, with rimming.

The way I feel under your command ( E, 13k) - Ed develops something of a Blackbeard kink, but he's not sure how to broach the subject with Stede (or, an exploration of the Ed/Blackbeard duality, by way of porn)

choked up, face down, burnt out (E, 3.5k) - Ed asks Stede to play a sexy game with him, and he is unprepared for the consequences (fam it's just a straight forward orgasm delay/overstimulation fic)

I know what they're thinking, 'cause I'm thinking it too (E, WIP) - Some highly valuable stolen loot leads to a surprise encounter with one of Stede's childhood friends—who just so happens to be the (very hot) black sheep of the Badminton family. At first, Ed is jealous, but soon they start to bond. Now Stede's feeling a bit green, so naturally Ed decides to have a little fun with it. Updating weekly!

Modern AUs

Come What May (T, 9k) - After a break up, Stede goes over to his best buddy Ed's house for a movie night. Is tonight the night that Ed finally tells him how he feels? Maybe, but expect 9,000 words of panic attack first. Modern AU, mutual pining/oblivious friends-to-lovers

I've got a blank space baby (and I'll write your name) (E, 7k) - Edward Teach is an expert at breakups—he should be, he's gone through enough of them over the years. He has a whole ritual for getting over someone. But when he goes out looking for a bit of meaningless rebound sex, he finds something else—something he never could have prepared for: Stede Bonnet.

Boys only want love if it's torture (E, 12K) - A follow-up to Blank Space, but it can be read alone. After 3 blissful months with Stede, Ed is suddenly ghosted without a word. Now, he's finally starting to feel like himself again, and he goes out to the bar in search of his usual rebound sex ritual. Only, Stede's at the bar tonight, and he wants Ed back. (Happy ending guaranteed!)

[luxyue]

knife boots — part v.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ flip ❞ a toe jump, taking off from a back inside edge

v. double-edged blade

Green.

Gold.

Where am I?

“You’re in the infirmary… I called Zhongli, he should be here soon—what do you think you’re doing?”

You waste no time jumping out of the bed (did he carry you all the way here?), heading toward the open door.

But luck is not on your side. In one swift motion, he manages to slam the door shut and barricades the exit by standing right in front of you (sheesh, is it just me or is it getting hot in here?).

“Let me go,” you say.

“No.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Of course, you understand that he’s just concerned for you, but right now, your only desire is to leave this place and run far, far away.

“Please?” you try.

“You’re clearly not okay, Y/N. I can’t let you just leave like this,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair in frustration. He clearly feels bad about not letting you go… but he’s just worried. About you.

“Okay, then… come with me.”

“…What?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “If you can’t let me leave alone, leave with me instead.”

Xiao’s eyes widen at your proposal. “To where?”

“Um… honestly, I don’t know. But please, can we just get out of here?” you plea, hoping that he’ll take pity on you and let you go.

“If… if I go with you, will you tell me about whatever’s been bothering you lately?” he asks unsteadily. He clearly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by crossing your boundaries, but he can’t help but wonder. Just what could rattle you so hard like that?

You freeze suddenly, eyes widening at his words. Are you even ready to talk about it?

You do trust Xiao. A lot, you realize. If there’s anyone you would tell… it would be him. But you also know that your mutual respect only went so far. Despite spending most of your days with him lately, you’ve never talked about your personal lives, keeping steady boundaries. You were honestly surprised that he had even bothered to ask you about this.

“I… if I promise to tell you about it, will you let me leave?” you decide, praying to the archons that you won’t regret your choice.

Glancing down at you one last time, he finally nods. “…Alright then. Let’s go.”

…

“Where, exactly, are we going?” he wonders out loud.

You simply shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t been around much since I moved here.”

He turns to look at you, confusion written on his face. “It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

You scoff, giving him a dirty look. “You try having the world champion breathing down your neck during training every day. It’s kind of hard to function when I get home, let alone have a life outside of skating.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I have to train a world champion every day—unpaid by the way—in addition to my own practice. How am I supposed to have a life?”

“You… that doesn’t even count. You actually deserve the title.”

The look he gives you is questioning. “Is this about what I said when we first met? If it is, I told you, I really didn’t mean any of that—”

“No, no… I don’t mean that. I promise I’ll explain soon. Just, back to the topic at hand, okay? Know any good places to eat? Or places to talk privately?” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He gives you an odd look before dropping the subject, pausing to think for a moment. “We won’t really be able to go anywhere without being photographed,” he reminds you.

You mentally slap yourself, embarrassed that you had forgotten about just how famous Xiao was in Liyue. He was like a walking paparazzi magnet, and it was honestly scary sometimes. Plus, if you were seen with him… well, his fans might not be too happy about that.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?”

“We could, um,” he coughs.

“What?”

“We could, uh, grab food really quickly and… go back to my place?” he stammers.

Was he being serious? You blink at him, slightly wondering if this was just a dream that you would wake up from in a matter of seconds.

…Nope. You’re still here. Surprisingly. But in what world would Xiao invite you over to his house?

His face goes awfully red as you struggle to formulate a response. “You don’t have to, I was just thinking, since you probably don’t want anybody listening in, so I just thought—”

“That would be perfect,” you say, stopping the train of worry in his head.

…

Two boba teas, a large box of rice balls, and a dessert that looked akin to tofu (which Xiao was surprisingly insistent on buying) later, you two finally ended up at his apartment.

It was actually a long drive. Xiao lived further from the rink than you had expected, although that made sense considering how much he valued his privacy. His apartment complex could pass for newly built, and the area was serene and peaceful.

Inside, however, all you could say was that the home was very… him. Sleek, dark, and modern, the design was truly exquisite.

But it was also bare. No personal touches. No picture frames, art pieces…

“Please tell me you have a medal wall, at least,” you say, or rather, hope. Xiao has multiple medals from just about every major international competition there is, and, well, you would probably give anything to see all of them.

“I do, actually. In here,” he motions for you to follow him through a doorway.

Oh… oh. Wow. In front of you is a display room that could honestly pass for a tiny museum.

Bronze, silver, and absolutely no shortage of gold hang neatly arranged on the walls. You see medals from domestic competitions, like nationals—then even more from the Grand Prix series, Grand Prix Final, and Worlds.

And then there are photos. So many photos, starting from when Xiao was a young boy, all the way up to his latest competition. You notice Zhongli is in most of them.

“Who are they?” you ask, pointing to one photo in particular, where Xiao looked… really happy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old in it, and he was posing with a group of four others in the same rink you currently train in every day.

He glances over to see which one you were talking about, before looking away sadly. “They’re old friends… who have since stopped skating.”

There’s a pang in your chest; you know exactly what he feels. As the years went on, more and more of the skaters you grew up with had quit, leaving you behind. It was easy to get lonely as long days of training blurred together.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you try to shift the topic back to what you originally came here for.

“So, I promised you an explanation.”

…

Once you’re both settled on his couch, boba in one hand, rice ball in the other, you begin your story.

“Well… let’s see, everyone knows I started out with Raiden Ei and skated for Inazuma, but that was way back when I was a novice skater and didn’t compete internationally. During this time… I was approached by someone who had also switched from Inazuma to Snezhnaya…”

Xiao scowls. “I know who you’re referring to.”

You nod in response. “He goes by Scaramouche nowadays. I don’t really know what he’s up to now, but I knew he was good back then. He told me to train with the Harbingers for the summer at first, just to see if I liked it. So, I did. I saw the results they were producing, and thought that, well, if I wanted to become the best of the best, I would need to make the switch.”

You pause, recollecting your thoughts.

“We don’t have to continue. If you aren’t up for it.” His voice breaks your train of thought.

“No… I want to tell you, actually,” you say, surprising even yourself. “I haven’t told anyone about this, not fully. Even Zhongli doesn’t know the full story.”

At this, Xiao reaches over, slowly intertwining his hand with yours, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” he says softly.

Trying your best (but failing) to not get flustered, you clear your throat before continuing. “This is when things started going downhill. They told… they told me that, if I ever wanted to amount to anything, I would need to represent Snezhnaya,” you laugh. “It’s funny, now I know that it was just complete bullshit, you know? But I believed it at the time. And look where it got me.”

You’re tearing up now. Xiao is unsure of what to do, but he squeezes your hand, tighter this time. “You’re right—I’m guessing they saw your talent and knew they needed you more than you needed them. But trust me, you’ll do just as well without the Harbingers.”

Sniffling, you say, “That… means a lot to me, especially coming from you. Thank you.”

“Anyway, that’s when…” you trail off, struggling to find the right words to convey your thoughts.

That’s when it all comes crashing down, and you start sobbing uncontrollably.

Through your tears, you manage to get out the words, “Xiao, I’m so sorry—please don’t think of me any differently, I really didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to do any of it, they forced me—”

In an instant, he pulls you towards his chest, holding you close, but gently, as though you were made of glass. Murmuring into your ear, he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I… I promise. You’ll be okay. You’re safe here.”

His words still manage to make your heart skip a beat, even when you’re this distraught. Even so, that doesn’t stop your hyperventilating, nor the tears streaming down your face.

“They… they made me take… Xiao…”

“Take what, Y/N?”

“They—they forced me to dope, they forced everyone there to dope, I’m so, so sorry for lying to you, that’s why I said I didn’t deserve the title, I didn’t deserve anything—I cheated. I cheated my way through every major competition I had ever won but you have to believe me, I never, ever wanted anything to do with it—”

You stop, because he… let go. He let go of you. He wasn’t holding you anymore. No… no, no, no…

“Y/N…” is all he says, and your heart breaks right there and then because never before have you seen Xiao look so hurt.