#get certification on AWS

[notbecauseofvictories]

hello! longtime follower and current 1L - am starting the rounds of the law firms and there's always the "so what practice area are you interested in?" bit. i was curious what that is for you + what you do/don't like about it? iirc, you mentioned something abt being in-house, healthcare related, regulatory side of things? i'm interested in regulatory stuff but not sure if that takes the shape of litigation or an explicitly regulatory-focused practice. found your blog back in the star wars days, then got into silmarillion and the silt verses after seeing your posts abt it haha - hope you're doing well and staying warm!

Congrats! 1L summer is a fun, anxiety-ridden time that mostly involves telling people over and over, who you are and what you're interested in---which can be tricky if you're not sure what you're interested in.

Personally, I went in knowing that I liked healthcare (the field I worked in prior to law school) and that wanted to stay healthcare-adjacent.....but not much else.

I learned I was not destined for litigation pretty much the first time my Legal Writing professor handed back our appellate briefs. (Mine did not have the grade I wanted at the top.) This was compounded by our final project, where we presented in front of real live attorneys and I was a nervous, sweaty wreck. After that, I decided that becoming Atticus Finch was not in my future.

But there are still lots of other kinds of law to practice! I live in the healthcare regulatory space---and I work for a pretty under-resourced company, which means I have lots of contact with other areas like R&D, clinical research, data privacy, marketing and adtech, direct patient care, healthcare compliance, and negotiating between various international laws. Not to mention my scope is always expanding, which is...challenging, but I'm also the kind of person who enjoys spending a weekend reading about Brazilian law.

(One of my guiding stars through the whole law school/job search process was "I don't want to be bored." I am never, ever bored.)

And this wasn't even my first stop! When I was in law school, I spent my semesters interning/clerking at firms, consulting boutiques and government agencies; policy-focused clinics and hospitals and giant corporate behemoths. I've said before that observing all these different settings was valuable, that it gave me a better understanding of myself, how I work, and the kind of work I was looking for. While I won't ever claim that every experience I had was amazing (it was not) it did give me the opportunity to explore, in a way that most adult professionals simply can't.

I mean---look. If you're committed to the brass ring of OCR and a high-profile law firm, then you might have to make this decision now. (Or at least come up with a good answer for interviewers...) But I highly encourage you and everyone choosing that path to keep the other doors open, just a crack. There are interesting things that sneak through when you aren't looking.

[autogeneity]

oh this is pretty sweet. looking up information for career advancement stuff and going, "oh I have that. oh yeah I did that. I know about that tech". and 3-4 years seems about the right amount of experience to qualify for overseas roles.

now if only I hadn't waited 2 years and counting to get my documentation sorted...

[itstimetodrew]

Unstoppable force (AI bros who only want to generate stuff based on their favorite billion dollar IPs) versus the immovable object (companies that own said billion dollar IPs and uncontrollably salivate at the idea of filing another lawsuit)

[lovelyisadora]

“are you going to do something productive today” killing her killing her killing her

[momo-de-avis]

Yesterday I was wondering.. my great great grandmother who I am going to call Eduarda from now on cause its easier, swore in life up and down that she was born in 1881. That means she thought she was 3 years younger than she really was. But all her parish records show the right age. So when I said earlier that she was married at 16, that is her actual age in 1895 (she had not yet turned 17), and that's the age the priest wrote down. On the marriage record, it states that the mother of the minor (which is Eduarda, because her husband was 27 years old...) had consented and was present to make sure all parties also consented.

But it was her mother who lied to her and told her she was born in 1881, not 1878.

So when you really think about it... my great great grandmother thought she was getting married at THIRTEEN... to TWENTY SEVEN YEAR OLD MAN

[hobimo]

Devastating news when you work your brain really hard to do academic stuff. You use up the energy that could have been Creative...

[ms-demeanor]

Do you have thoughts about the changes to Firefox's Terms of Use and Privacy Notice? A lot of people seem to be freaking out ("This is like when google removed 'Don't be evil!'"), but it seems to me like just another case of people getting confused by legalese.

Yeah you got it in one.

I've been trying not to get too fighty about it so thank you for giving me the excuse to talk about it neutrally and not while arguing with someone.

Firefox sits in such an awful place when it comes to how people who understand technology at varying levels interact with it.

On one very extreme end you've got people who are pissed that Firefox won't let you install known malicious extensions because that's too controlling of the user experience; these are also the people who tend to say that firefox might as well be spyware because they are paid by google to have google as the default search engine for the browser.

In the middle you've got a bunch of people who know a little bit about technology - enough to know that they should be suspicious of it - but who are only passingly familiar with stuff like "internet protocols" and "security certificates" and "legal liability" who see every change that isn't explicitly about data anonymization as a threat that needs to be killed with fire. These are the people who tend not to know that you can change the data collection settings in Firefox.

And on the other extreme you've got people who are pretty sure that firefox is a witch and that you're going to get a virus if you download a browser that isn't chrome so they won't touch Firefox with a ten foot pole.

And it's just kind of exhausting. It reminds me of when you've got people who get more mad at queer creators for inelegantly supporting a cause than they are at blatant homophobes. Like, yeah, you focus on the people whose minds you can change, and Firefox is certainly more responsive to user feedback than Chrome, but also getting you to legally agree that you won't sue Firefox for temporarily storing a photo you're uploading isn't a sign that Firefox sold out and is collecting all your data to feed to whichever LLM is currently supposed to be pouring the most bottles of water into landfills before pissing in the plastic bottle and putting the plastic bottle full of urine in the landfill.

The post I keep seeing (and it's not one post, i've seen this in youtube comment sections and on discord and on tumblr) is:

Well-meaning person who has gotten the wrong end of the stick: This is it, go switch to sanguinetapir now, firefox has gone to the dark side and is selling your data. [Link to *an internet comment section* and/or redditor reactions as evidence of wrongdoing].

Response: I think you may be misreading the statements here, there's been an update about this and everything.

Well-meaning (and deeply annoying) person who has gotten the wrong end of the stick: If you'd read the link you'd see that actually no I didn't misinterpret this, as evidenced by the dozens of commenters on this other site who are misinterpreting the ToU the same way that I am, but more snarkily.

Bud.

Anyway the consensus from the actual security nerds is "jesus fucking christ we carry GPS locators in our pockets all goddamned day and there are cameras everywhere and there is a long-lasting global push to erode the right to encrypt your data and facebook is creating tracking accounts for people who don't even have a facebook and they are giving data about abortion travel to the goddamned police state" and they could not be reached for comment about whether Firefox is bad now, actually, because they collect anonymized data about the people who use pocket.

My response is that there is a simple fix for all of this and it is to walk into the sea.

(I am not worried about the updated firefox ToU, I personally have a fair amount of data collection enabled on my browser because I do actually want crash reports to go to firefox when my browser crashes; however i'm not actually all that worried about firefox collecting, like, ad data on me because I haven't seen an ad in ten years and if one popped up on my browser i'd smash my screen with a stand mixer - I don't care about location data either because turning on location on your devices is for suckers but also *the way the internet works means unless you're using a traffic anonymizer at all times your browser/isp/websites you connect to/vpn/what fucking ever know where you are because of the IP address that they *have* to be able to see to deliver the internet to you and that is, generally speaking, logged as a matter of course by the systems that interact with it*)

Anyway if you're worried about firefox collecting your data you should ABSOLUTELY NOT BE ON DISCORD OR YOUTUBE and if you are on either of those things you should 100% be using them in a browser instead of an app and i don't particularly care if that browser is firefox or tonsilferret but it should be one with an extension that allows you to choose what data gets shared with the sites it interacts with.

[schadenfreudich]

Franz was talking about reading a proposed law early in the morning and went "Yes, I love doing that" while putting his hands into what was almost the Merkel Raute, just not on purpose.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “YEAH I’M A BUSY WOMAN I WOULDN’T LET YOU COME INTO MY CALENDAR” ── .✦ ( batboys x uni!reader because why not ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: writing this while like two cans of coke zero and I genuinely might pull a crazy all nighter but I sleep at 5 am normally so WHO GIVE A FUCKK, anywayss this goes to my stress ridden babies due to midterms for you guys soon I thinkk (all of us 🥲) tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He brings you snacks when you’re studying and by “snacks” we mean full takeout meals because he forgets how to portion ( accidentally gets you like 10 different sauces because he didn’t know which one you’d want. )

Will absolutely FaceTime you during your breaks just to make you laugh and decompress.

“So what are we learning today, professor babe?” , “I’m not even a professor dick.” while spinning in your desk chair.

Offers to help you practice presentations and claps like a proud dad after. (YES HE’S THAT CRINGEY)

Shows up to your classes sometimes just to walk you home hoodie, shades, and all like he’s one of those celebrities who avoid paparazzi.

Brags about you constantly: “They’re in college. That’s hot.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Brings you coffee strong enough to revive the dead. “You said you had a paper due, I brought the goods.”

Pretends to not care but is 100% the one who stays up with you all night while you write essays.

Sits on the couch reading classic literature while you're buried in textbooks. "Need help understanding The Iliad? I gotchu." ( he’s the besttt explainer )

Might write your prof a strongly worded email if he thinks you got graded unfairly. You have to stop him.

“Study breaks” with him usually turn into making out. And somehow more caffeine. ( i volunteer to contribute i fear )

Secretly keeps one of your academic achievements (like a certificate or paper) in his bookshelf. Doesn’t tell anyone.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The ultimate study partner. Organized notes. Color-coded everything. Quizlet decks for days.

“You’re not sleeping enough. Here’s melatonin. And a planner. Also, breathe.”

Will pull all-nighters with you and still somehow get 100% on his own assignments.

If you’re freaking out, he builds a full 7-step action plan with deadlines, breaks, and snacks.

Occasionally goes “I read that journal article actually, it’s flawed,” and you’re like ( insert standing woman emoji fr fr 🧍‍♀️)

Loves helping you with research. You say “I need a source,” and he sends you 12 peer-reviewed papers in 5 mins.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦ ( AGED UP FOR THIS BUT NO NSFW!)

“Tt. University is easy. You're making it harder than it needs to be.”, “EXCUSE ME-“ But deep down, he’s in awe of how hard you work.

Brings you your favorite drink exactly how you like it without asking and knows what flavor of drinks you like too.

He proofreads your essays like he’s a dissertation committee. Will roast you but also fix every single grammar issue.

Draws you little doodles on sticky notes with encouraging messages like, “You are competent. Continue.”

constantly complaining to you to, “You should be getting more sleep.” “You should talk to your professor.” “You should eat breakfast.”

Acts unimpressed until you ace a test, and then he casually slips a gift into your bag like it’s no big deal.

[steddie-island]

Four Ring Circus

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem bingo prompt: Marriage of Inconvenience and for @steddiebingo round 1 prompt: Surprise Rating: M | WC: 943 | Tags: Steddie, implied Gareth/ Jeff/ Unnamed Freak, Las Vegas wedding, drunken shenanigans, crack fic For full list of tags see ao3! | Divider Credit

One of Eddie's rings is missing. It's the first thing he notices when he wakes up, is the lack of the weight on his finger. He cracks an eye open, groans and immediately covers his face with his arm to hide from the blinding sunlight. "Fuck—"

There's movement to his left. He gets flashes from the night before— teeth against his throat, his own digging into the hard line of a collar bone, his fingers surrounded by tight heat. Right, he didn't go to bed alone. And whoever he went to bed with is still there with him, warm and heavy against his side.

"Eddie?"

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

Eddie knows that voice, is as familiar with it as he is with his own, or Jeff's.

"Stevie?"

There's a groan and a warm face buries itself against the crook of his neck. "Shhhh. Turn it down."

Whatever happened last night, at least Steve feels just as terrible this morning. Though, now that he remembers whose mouth was on his dick last night— Steve, Steve, holy shit it was Steve!!— he's feeling less awful with each second. He drags his hand over his face, which reminds him that his ring is gone.

Only when he opens his eyes, it isn't gone. It is, but there's still a ring on his finger. A simple gold band, right where his skull ring had sat before.

Oh goddamn fuck.

"Steve." Eddie's wide awake, much to the disapproval of the marching band in his head.

"Shhh—"

"No, Steve." Eddie shakes him, pushes him a little away, until he can dig Steve's hand out from beneath him and search for—

"Fuck." Eddie whips the blankets off, doesn't care that he's still naked or that Steve is looking at him like he's ready to throttle Eddie with the nearest object. "Did we get married last night?"

"What?" Annoyance is still plastered in every line of Steve's face. He opens his mouth, blinks, and then Eddie watches as it comes rushing back to him, too. He lifts his hand to see his own matching gold band. "I… We didn't… did we?"

Eddie feels like he's three seconds away from a panic attack, which is not how he'd wanted getting Steve in his bed to go. There was a massive difference in getting Steve into his bed and fucking marrying the guy.

"Fuck." Eddie digs through paperwork strewn over the hotel table alongside their empty bottles from the night before. He doesn't even have time to worry about his liver, can barely spare it more than a thought as he keeps digging through every piece of paper he can find.

"It's in the refrigerator."

"What?" Eddie asks without stopping his search.

"The marriage certificate." Eddie looks up and watches the way Steve presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "We put it in the refrigerator. Something about it being… cooler in the morning."

That sounds exactly like something Eddie would say, three sheets to the fucking wind. He opens the door of the mini-fridge and— bingo. There it is, tucked into the little freezer slot. Eddie pulls it out, finds the license and certificate both there, on top of a pack of cigarettes— what the fuck did we drink last night?

Eddie had laughed when Wayne told him not to get married in Vegas, and now here he is. Sweaty, hungover, married to one Steve Harrington.

Er, Steve Munson, if the signature on the marriage certificate is correct.

"Ah, fuck." Eddie stands, nudging the fridge closed with his foot. "Jeff's gonna kill me. Gonna kill us."

"What makes you think he didn't go get himself married, too?" Steve asks. He still hasn't gotten out of bed, is still sitting there with both hands in his hair.

"That's not happening until next week." It's why they're here in the first place, a happy little sendoff for Jeff while they still had a few minutes to breathe.

"This wasn't supposed to happen at all." Steve slips out of bed and Eddie can't help the way he watches Steve's back, then his ass as he finds his underwear and gets them pulled up his thighs. Even hungover Steve's still the most gorgeous person Eddie's ever seen. He delights at the bruises he hadn't been able to see before on Steve's hips, a dark one on the back of his neck, several lighter ones down his spine. His cock gives a twitch of interest as his mind wanders to all of the other places and ways he could mark up Steve's body.

Before he can even think to move and actually do something about it the door on the other side of the room opens up. Eddie actually squeaks as he brings the paperwork still in his hands down to try to cover himself as much as possible— not that they haven't all seen each other in various states of undress before, being on the road and sharing a bus for as long as they have.

"We have a problem," Jeff says. He gives a tug and that's when Eddie notices the silver cuff around his wrist. Gareth is attached to the other end.

"Did you two—"

Jeff hangs his head and holds his uncuffed hand up, showing off his own gold band. "Yep."

"To Gareth?" Steve asks.

"Yep." Gareth holds his cuffed hand up. "That's not the only problem, though."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. The whole situation is so fucked he almost forgets to keep himself covered. "What is, then?"

Jeff and Gareth exchange a look before looking back at Eddie. "Dougie's handcuffed to the bed, and I think we flushed the keys."

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[fumiliar]

"what's a darry ring?" kento asked gojo and shoko, interrupting their current conversation.

"you don't know what a darry ring is? i mean expected," gojo teased, receiving a light hit from shoko.

"it's a ring you can only buy once in your lifetime, yoy have to show your id and everything," shoko answered, earning a nod from kento.

"interesting..."

on a random tuesday night, kento had come home with a stack of packages as usual.

"thanks for getting my packages ken," you gave him a peck as he set the boxes on your countertop. you looked at all the packages, and noticed an extra box.

"ken, did you buy something?" you looked at the bland box with no address or identification.

"i got you something, open it," a smile crept up his lips as he rested his hand on your waist.

you lokeat him skeptically, today wasn't anything special. in fact, you started to think today was a special occasion. "did i forget an anniversary?"

a chuckle escaped his lips. "no, i just felt like it. nothing to worry about, love."

full of suspicion, you slowly opened the box, being presented with the white gold box engraved with the letters "DR". and as you opened the box, you saw a ring, specifically a ring from darry in the exact model you liked, and a certificate.

"how...did you know about this?" you stared at the ring in your hands.

"do you like it?" he rested his head on your shoulder, looking at the ring with you. "i'll put it on for you," he took the ring box out of your hand, swiftly turning you around with the other.

"to my beloved," you could see the slight shake in his hand as he slowly put it on your ring finger, right on top of your wedding ring.

"it looks....beautiful," you stared at awe, the darry ring perfectly complimenting your wedding ring. "how did you know about this? you're usually not up to the current trends?"

"i heard from a little birdie," he brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a kiss.

"you know this is an engagement ring right? what's the special occasion?"

"nothing, i just wanted to," he gave a shrug as if it actually meant nothing. "i thought about you as soon as i heard about the premise, you're only allowed to get this ring once, and you are the only person i'd want to spend the rest of my life with, so why not?"

"ken....i love you so much," you put your hands on each side of his neck as he put his hands on your waist.

"i love you, y/n."

[whisperedmeg]

RE-ENTRY BURN ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part vi

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: spencer returns to the field, and the soft parts of him begin to harden. together, they search for a way to hold on.

genre: hurt/comfort, like kinda fluff if you squint I guess?

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, spencer goes back to work, reader gets anxious again but for a diff reason, spencer is still a reassuring sweetie pie, reader meets (part of) the bau, just some kissing but nothing more than that, big moment in their relationship !!

a/n: I wrote, erased, and rewrote the second half of this chapter like five separate times before I was happy with it and I’m still not 100% convinced, so I hope it turned out okay. no spoilers but there’s some major payoff at the end in this one 🙂‍↕️. as always, thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

series masterlist

The call came on a Thursday morning.

Spencer was sitting on my living room floor, back against the couch, flipping through a book of poetry he insisted he didn’t like but kept rereading anyway. I was in the kitchen in one of his old t-shirts, buttering toast and making an omelette and wondering if I had time for a shower before my shift. The air smelled like coffee and rain. It felt like a quiet, ordinary kind of day.

Then his phone rang. And I watched everything in his body go still.

“Yes,” he said after picking up. “This is Dr. Reid.”

His fingers tightened around the phone. His spine straightened. I turned off the burner.

I didn’t try to listen, but I didn’t leave the room either. He only said a few words: Okay. Thank you. I understand. See you soon. But when he hung up, he didn’t just look different — he looked lit up, like something dormant had just sparked back to life.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a second, then looked at me with wide, stunned eyes.

“That was them?”

He nodded slowly. Then, voice thick with disbelief and something close to awe: “They’re taking me back. I’m reinstated.”

For a beat, all we did was stare at each other.

Then I crossed the room and launched myself at him. He caught me, laughing, and spun us around so fast we nearly knocked over a vase.

“Oh my god,” I said, cupping his face. “Spencer, that’s amazing. You did that.”

“I didn’t think—” he broke off, blinking fast. “I thought it would take longer. Or that they’d changed their minds.”

I kissed him, hard and messy and happy and full of relief. He kissed me back just as fiercely, both hands buried in my hair. We were still tangled in each other when the real weight of it started to settle between us.

I pulled back slightly, breathless. “So… what happens now?”

“I report to Quantico next week. There’s some re-entry protocol — updated field certifications, paperwork, so on. Then I’m back on the team.” He paused, then added, “Back on the jet.”

I nodded, trying to keep my smile steady. “Right. Of course.”

But a quiet fear had already begun to curl into my chest — something I didn’t want to name. The fear that maybe the version of Spencer I’d come to know, the one who made me coffee with too much cinnamon and traced my shoulder blades with reverence, was only who he was here, with me.

Who was he when he was chasing monsters across state lines again? Who was I to him in that world?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching for my hand. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I’m so, so happy for you. And I want this for you. I… I just don’t know what it means for us. I don’t know that version of you. Your life is about to get a lot bigger, and I’m still here, going back and forth to Millburn, in scrubs, on twelve-hour shifts, staying exactly the same.”

“You think I’m going to leave you behind?”

I paused. “I don’t really think that. But I still fear it. Which might be worse.”

His grip tightened slightly. “I’m not going anywhere. But… I know this will change things. I just don’t know how yet.”

We sat with that — the not-knowing. It was becoming a constant companion.

He exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against mine. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

—

His first day back, I packed him lunch.

It felt stupid and too intimate and maybe a little bit like denial, but I did it anyway. Hummus, cut-up vegetables, and fruit, plus two hardboiled eggs he’d probably forget to eat. Spencer had a habit of doing that — starting a meal but then getting too absorbed in his work or the documentary on TV or the book in his lap to remember to finish it. I tucked in a note before I could overthink it: You’ve survived worse. Just breathe. You’re gonna be great.

He texted me later to say thank you. Then I didn’t hear from him for six hours.

I tried not to spiral.

When he finally walked into his apartment, he looked… different. Not bad, but sharper. Like someone had ironed some of the softness out of him. I was already waiting for him on his couch — he’d given me my own key last week and told me to use it.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Strange,” he said honestly. “Good. Overwhelming.”

I kissed him and tried to pretend I wasn’t searching his eyes for cracks.

—

By day three, he was already packing an overnight bag.

“There’s a case,” he said, tucking mismatched socks into a duffel. “We think there’s an unsub targeting sex workers.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching. “That was fast.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the job.”

The words landed harder than he probably meant. I swallowed thickly.

“Will I get to know where you are?”

He turned, reaching for me. “You can know everything I’m allowed to tell you. I won’t shut you out.”

I nodded, because I didn’t trust my voice.

He kissed me once — soft and lingering — and then he was gone.

—

The next few days passed slowly.

He texted when he landed in Denver. Again when they reached the local precinct. That first night, he called me from his hotel room. His voice was tired but steady, full of soft reassurances: I’m okay. I’m thinking about you. I wish you were here.

But the check-ins were short. Sporadic. Sometimes twelve hours went by without a word, and I had to remind myself he was just busy. That it wasn’t about me. That he had bigger things to worry about. That he wasn’t retreating.

Still, I found myself staring at my phone more than I wanted to admit. Writing texts I didn’t send. Wondering if this low, quiet ache in my chest was normal or the beginning of something harder.

When he got back four days later, he smelled like airplane soap and adrenaline. His arms were around me the second he was through my front door, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“I missed you,” he murmured against my hair.

I squeezed him closer. “I missed you every second.”

Then he pulled back, and I saw it — the part of him that was already half gone again.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m tired. But yeah.”

“Did you eat the eggs?”

He blinked. “What?”

“In the lunch I packed. On your first day back.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I forgot.”

—

That weekend, Spencer’s work friends invited him out to a nice dinner downtown.

He insisted I join him. Said he wanted me there. That he wanted me to meet more of his team, and that they wanted to meet me, too.

I said yes because I could tell it meant a lot to him — and because I genuinely did want to meet the people closest to him — but I was a nervous wreck over it. I felt like I was going to be interviewed by the people who had known him for years, who had pulled him from blood-soaked crime scenes and watched him unravel and rebuild more than once. People — profilers — who could probably read body language as easily as breathing. People who would know if I was feeling even just a little bit off.

Penelope nearly vibrated with joy when Spencer and I walked into the restaurant, hugging me like I was a gift-wrapped surprise. JJ gave me her usual perceptive, friendly smile, the kind that made me feel both seen and slightly exposed.

But it was meeting Emily and Rossi for the first time that made me sweat.

Emily shook my hand with polite warmth, but her eyes were sharp. Measuring. Assessing. As if she couldn’t help it. As if it was hardwired into her, the way it was hardwired into me to check pupils and track vitals. Rossi gave me a smile so charming it almost felt intimidating — not because he was skeptical, but because he was paying close attention, the way you do when someone you love finally lets you see something they’ve been protecting.

I did my best to hold my own. I answered questions about myself — my job at the infirmary, the story of how Spencer and I met (they loved hearing how I’d given him my number via scrabble tiles), what I liked to do outside of work. I laughed when they teased Spencer about still being the worst at remembering to eat, and about the time he tried to explain string theory at a retirement party and knocked over an entire cheese platter mid-metaphor. He rolled his eyes and claimed it was an unfair exaggeration, but his ears turned pink.

There was a moment when Emily asked what had drawn me to Spencer, and a million different answers piled up in my throat all at once. I just smiled and said, “He’s easy to care about. Even at his lowest, he was still always the kindest person in the room. Plus, he even pretended to feel bad when he kicked my ass in chess.”

Garcia let out a delighted little sound, pressing her hand to her heart. JJ’s eyes softened with something almost protective. Rossi gave an approving nod and raised his glass. And Emily — she didn’t quite smile, but her shoulders loosened, like she was easing off an invisible trigger.

Still, the entire dinner felt a little like walking a tightrope — one foot in Spencer’s universe, the other still hovering over mine. I couldn’t tell if I was holding my breath or just trying to match their rhythm.

“You okay?” JJ asked gently while we waited for dessert. “It’s a lot, I know.”

“Being part of this world?”

She tilted her head. “Being with someone who spends half their life chasing ghosts.”

I smiled tightly. “I haven’t quite figured out where I fit yet.”

“You don’t have to know today,” she said. “But if you care about him — and it’s pretty clear you do — then hang on. He’s worth the turbulence.”

I looked over at Spencer, who was in the middle of arguing with Garcia about the probability of alien life as if the past six months hadn’t nearly broken him. His hands moved as he spoke, his expression animated, utterly absorbed in the debate. There was something so familiar about it — the way he lit up, the way he met the world with open palms and big questions. Like the worst thing had already happened, and now he was trying to believe in wonder again.

“I know he is,” I said softly. “But turbulence still leaves you breathless sometimes.”

—

Later, in the car, Spencer took my hand. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

I shrugged, watching the city pass by through the window. “I’m just tired. It was a good night.”

He glanced over at me, unconvinced but gentle.

“I really like Penelope,” I added. “She always hugs me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“She thinks you are,” he said, no hesitation. “And she’s right.”

I smiled, feeling my cheeks warm. “And JJ. She’s… perceptive. And kind. Like she sees things but doesn’t make you feel too exposed.”

His thumb brushed across my knuckles, slow and steady.

“And Emily was warm in a scary, FBI-chief sort of way. I was terrified she hated me, but then she made that joke about your hair and I felt like I passed some kind of test.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh. “That’s exactly how you know she likes you.”

“And Rossi’s stories are even better than you said they’d be,” I continued. “Though I’m still not convinced that the one about the ambassador’s wife and Ringo Starr actually happened.”

“Oh, it definitely did.”

That made me laugh. I leaned my head back against the seat, exhaling. “It was a good night, Spence. Really.”

Spencer smiled softly, but didn’t say anything. His thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against my hand — like he was trying to ground me without interrupting whatever was unraveling inside my head.

I hesitated. “It’s just…”

He waited, thumb still brushing lightly over my knuckles. I kept my gaze on the window.

“It’s strange,” I said slowly. “Watching you slip back into your world so naturally. Not in a bad way — it’s a good kind of strange. But I’m still figuring out where I fit.” I paused for a beat. “Sometimes I worry I’m just watching your life take off without me.”

He turned to look at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“I know,” I murmured. “But it feels that way sometimes. You’re re-entering a life that’s so much bigger than I ever knew, and I’m still finding my place in it.”

His fingers tightened gently around mine. “You’re not on the outside of this. You never were. You’ve always had a place with me.”

I nodded, though the ache lingered. “I know, Spence. It’s just… kind of a lot, I guess. I wasn’t ready for how much of it existed before me, which I know sounds incredibly silly.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car over with a soft turn of the wheel, settling us into the stillness of a side street, headlights casting long shadows through the trees. Then he turned toward me fully.

“You’re part of my life,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “The best part. I just need you to trust that I’m still in this. Even when I’m gone on cases. Even when I come home wrecked and quiet. I’m still with you.”

I looked at him then, really looked. At the man who had once been shattered, who had let me see every broken edge, who had handed me the glue and trusted me not to cut myself as I helped him put the pieces back together. And who now was flying straight toward the storm again, because that’s what he was made to do.

“I trust that,” I said softly. “I really do. I just don’t want to be the thing that keeps you grounded if what you really need is flight.”

His brow softened, and he reached across the console to cup my jaw, thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone, tender and steady. “You’re not holding me down,” he said. “You’re giving me a reason to land.”

My throat tightened. The knot in my chest loosened — not all the way, but enough. I nodded, blinking against the rush of everything that wanted to spill out.

He gave my hand a final squeeze and slowly pulled back onto the road.

And this time, I really did let myself believe him.

—

That night, we didn’t sleep right away. We just… laid there, wrapped around each other, quiet and breathing like the hush itself was sacred. His hand rested against my back, fingers tracing slow, absent-minded lines — like he was etching something into the moment to keep forever.

It all felt different now. Not just tender, but certain. Like something had settled between us that couldn’t be undone.

He shifted slightly, just enough to look at me. His eyes moved across my face like he was studying it, memorizing it, letting the silence stretch long enough to make my breath catch.

Then he said, softly but without hesitation, “I love you.”

No preamble. No buildup. Just the truth, laid bare between us.

It hit me like a tidal wave, sudden and warm and full. I think part of me had been waiting for him to say that — aching for it, really. I had felt it already, but still, actually hearing it aloud cracked something open in my chest.

I blinked hard and reached for him, tracing his cheek with the backs of my fingers.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “I think I have for a while now.”

Something in him shifted — softened, unknotted. He exhaled like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. And then his lips curled into a smile so bright it almost hurt.

“You mean it?”

I nodded, and his smile deepened, eyes full of hope. “I think I’ve been waiting to hear that since the moment I met you,” he murmured.

Then he kissed me — slow and deep. Not hurried or desperate, just honest. His lips on mine like he was saying it again with his mouth, his hands, his whole body:

I’m here. I’m yours. I’m trying. I love you.

ᝰ.ᐟ

part vii

[slushycoookie]

Rookie of the Year

Sylus x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: Reader makes Rookie of the Year and Sylus helps you celebrate. MC! Reader. Mainly Fluff. Sylus isn't beating the loverboy allegations. It gets a little suggestive at the end.

A/N: This is actually a gift for my wife and Sylus lover @bluesidez. She loves that man more than I do. Plus, she's graduating today so everyone tell her congrats!

You've made Rookie of the Year.

It came as a shock when suddenly your desk was surrounded by your coworkers cheering and praising you. Tara hugged you, squeezing any surprise you had away. Obviously making rookie of the year was a huge honor, but you didn’t think you did enough to warrant that. UNICORNS saw your potential though and wanted to celebrate you.

You'd get to walk across the stage to collect a plaque with your name and title plastered on the front, shake hands, take photos with people you hardly knew.

All you had to do was dress nicer than usual.

When you told Sylus this, while showing him the black dress you were wearing, you hope your casual demeanor would give him the hint to not be extravagant. It was a simple ceremony. No need for grand entrances and fancy clothing.

Your heart won't stop ramping in your chest as everyone piled in the hall the ceremony is being held in. One commonly used for conferences or work events now used to celebrate your achievements. Your skirt was going to get wrinkled if you kept bunching under your firsts. You also had to do a speech. A small one, to show others why you deserved to be Rookie of the Year. Sylus heard you go on and on for a few days as you recited your words.

“For a ceremony that's low key, you’re worrying an awful lot, kitten.” He said while lounging in his plush chair, eyes never leaving you.

Those words stuck in your head. Because it isn't a big deal. All hunters get awards like this, so why are you worried?

It's when you saw that signature white hair, that made you become alert.

Sylus was here, carrying a gigantic bouquet. An arrangement of white roses, baby's breath, and other greenery resting on his shoulder.

Your eyes meet, your heartbeat pounding in your ears at the gentle smirk he makes when seeing you. There's no Luke and Kieran. Mephisto is probably lurking outside somewhere. He listened without you having to say anything.

Of course he had to buy you the biggest bouquet in all of Linkon. You wouldn't be surprised if he corrects you by saying he actually got it from the N109 zone.

But he's here. Your palms are wet and suddenly you feel as if everyone's eyes are on you. Sylus doesn't break eye contact, almost encouraging you with those entrancing red eyes of his.

The ceremony starts and the announcer's voice drowns out. The lines from your speech play in your brain like a record. Going over it two, no three times. The applause breaks your trance and your name is called.

You walk across the stage, putting on the best smile you can give. The crowd cheering and clapping with joy for you. Including Sylus, whose smirk turned into a heartfelt smile.

“Thank you.” You take the plaque, admiring it momentarily. “It is a huge honor to accept this award. I'd like to thank everyone who's encouraged me to give my all. My boss, my coworkers, my friends…” You cut an eye to Sylus, his attention still on you. “I wouldn't be here without them today. I will continue to do my best to protect the citizens of Linkon, day or night. If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to reach me. Thank you.”

There's another roar of applause. A couple whistles here and there, lights from multiple cameras flash in your line of sight, blurring your vision.

After taking your last step off the stage, you were swarmed to take pictures.

Of you, you and the certificate, you and your coworkers, you and your boss, Captain Jenna. Many people who you hardly recognized also snuck in for a photo. You’re pretty sure you also took pictures with the mayor. So much for a low key ceremony.

You smiled through it all, despite the constant flashes irritating your eyes. Sylus was still behind the crowd, patiently waiting to have you all to himself. He’s patient. His arms folded with a low smile, those red eyes watching your movements from afar. They comfort you throughout the picture taking.

Not long after, a group of news reporters surround you. Mics all around you, cameras practically shoved in your face.

“What’s next for the hunter that’s rookie of the year?”

“Any plans to go higher up the ladder?”

“Do you have any thoughts about changing divisions?”

“What’s the quota on how many wanderers you defeated?”

So many questions. You always struggle with what you’re having for dinner every night. How were you supposed to answer all of this?

You answered the best you could while maintaining eye contact. Sylus left your vision, that huge bouquet helped spot him a mile away. Now, he was nowhere to be found. Your heart couldn’t help, but squeeze at the possibly that he might’ve left. Leaving you to fend for the hungry reporters eager for the next story.

“I believe that's enough questions for one day.”

He steps in between you and the swarm. The bouquet covering up your form so you're out of sight. You focus on at his broad shoulders underneath that leather jacket, protecting you. His strong musk pulling you in unknowingly.

“Who are you?”

“Her boyfriend.”

You weren't sure if you wanted to facepalm or smack his shoulder.“Sylus-”

“So the rookie the year also has a boyfriend?”

“Yes-”

“That’s not important now. No more questions.”

Sylus doesn't resist following behind you when you take his hand, making your way out of the hall. You go to the nearest stairwell, quickly stopping to take a breather. After a long sigh, your shoulders relax. It’s not until Sylus’ amusement that takes you back to the present.

“Someone was awfully jumpy when I mentioned that I'm your boyfriend. Embarrassed of me?”

“Not even. It’s none of their business.”

“I agree.” He steps closer and you realize that it was really just you and him alone. Giving you time to smile up at him when he hands you the bouquet.

The weight doesn't bother you. Not when your heart beats in flattery at his mild attempt of being low key.

“They’re beautiful.”

“They reminded me of someone. Only she's more beautiful.”

You happily accept the kiss from Sylus, engulfing yourself in the embrace. He’s warm, hands slowly tracing your back. You wish you could kiss him longer, but you didn’t want to stain his face too much with your lipstick. As if he cared about that.

“The twins wanted to show you something.”

You watch him pull out his phone, positioning beside you when he pulls up a video.

Immediately, you're hit with the sight of confetti. Cartoon caricatures of Luke and Kieran are hollering, celebrating you getting the award. There’s a lot going on with the multiple transitions and color changes. Sylus shakes his head at it all in the corner of your eye.

But it’s sweet. You feel warmer at the twins throwing a sweet, albeit messy congratulations message for you.

“I have them running a few errands and this is the best they come with.”

You snort, “I still love it. I'll have to tell them thanks when I see them again.”

“This will only encourage them to do more of these.”

“I know.”

Sylus takes your hand, “Ready to go back out there?”

Going back to more picture taking and awkward conversations did not appeal to you. He knows you too well cause he chuckles when your face twists with displeasure.

“I thought so.”

He leads you out of the staircase. Hopefully everyone else would understand when you return to work tomorrow.

You're surprised when you don't see his motorcycle and instead a sleek, two-door black car. Like a gentleman he opens the door for you, making sure you're in completely and comfortable.

The leather seats are snug to the touch. A hint of spice tickles your nose. You're trying to figure out if you've seen this car before when Sylus starts it.

“No more joy rides in your motorcycle?”

“I didn't want to ruin your hair.” He says while shifting gears, “And it would be troublesome holding on to me and the flowers I bought you.”

You nod in agreement when he pulls off. As always, he lets you be the dj, playing some r&b on the way to your destination. Which you're not sure what it is. Sylus hardly speaks during the drive, his hand on top of yours, giving it a light squeeze at each stop light. Your stomach growls twenty minutes in so you hope whatever he has planned includes food.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to let you starve.”

“Oh, that's nice of you.”

His chuckle radiates warmth throughout your body. Your heart skipping a beat when he kisses the back of your hand, rubbing it a little with his thumb.

Soon he pulls up at a restaurant on a cliff. It gives the two of you a view of the city below. A vast range of the city buildings, the bustling sounds of life was distant when he helped you out of the car.

You immediately recognized this place.

“Wait is this-?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

Solaire, a popular restaurant in Linkon, was a place you never thought you'd get into. It was booked months in advance and unless you had enough money to buy out the place, it was difficult to get into.

The empty restaurant except for the staff told you everything you needed to know.

“Is it fitting for someone who made rookie of the year?” Sylus asks when he leads you inside.

You were stunned, no words coming from your lips as you were escorted by the host to your table.

The modern contemporary restaurant caught your eye. The dark stained wood arches above you, creating a mature atmosphere with the complimentary wooden decor. Thin, green fauna accentuates the space . You almost feel like you don't deserve to be here. It was a simple award, you don't know why Sylus went out of his way like this.

Everything feels strange when you sit down. Your bottom getting extra comfort due to the cushion that was placed. The smooth, white table cloth feels like satin.

“Shall I get you started with something to drink?”

The host, whose name you definitely missed, says to you.

Sylus motions to you, “Ladies first.”

The menu you're given has an array of refreshments. Wine, tea, espresso. You decide on a lemonade while your partner picks a white wine. When the host departs, you’re still looking around, not believing you're actually inside.

“Do you like it?”

Sylus looks to you expectingly. His relaxed, but steely demeanor wants to make you relax. Like a dragon who just provided a gift to his mate and wants to be praised.

Your smile is small, “I do, but I don't deserve all of this. I would've been okay with us going back to your place and ordering takeout.”

“The rookie of the year doesn't deserve a small hangout while we eat a slice of pizza.” Sylus scoffs, disgusted at that idea. “You deserve more than that.”

He's right. You were just used to not having much to celebrate your milestones. Anything was okay as long as you were with people you care about.

“But if you want to do that, we can leave.” He places the menu down, staring into your eyes. “The restaurant is paid for. Everyone is getting paid regardless if we celebrate or not.”

“No, it's okay.” You take his hand, “I want to stay.”

Sylus smirks, sitting back to his regular position. “Good. I heard this place has exceptional caviar.”

“I've never tried. I heard it was salty.”

It's like a subtle light went off in his eyes.

“You have to try it.”

Sylus decides to order almost everything in the restaurant. Half of the menu consisted of things you've never tried while the other caught your eye and you wanted to try it. You almost felt bad for the waiter who had to fill out three pages to make sure the order was complete.

Warm bread is brought out to the table with multiple arrays of flavored butter on display. They were all so good, but your favorite might be the cinnamon sugar. Sylus enjoys his wine and of course it catches your attention. You reach over to take his glass and he playfully eyes you.

“You have lemonade.”

“But your wine looks good too.”

“Then get your own glass.”

“Did you suddenly forget about the boyfriend code?” You bite your lip when he chuckles, handing over his glass. He watches you take a sip so you don’t drink all of his.

It’s sweet on your tongue, complimenting the warm bread you just had. Your hum tells Sylus everything he needs to know when he flags the waiter down to request another glass and refill yours.

“I’m still drinking the lemonade too.”

“Of course you are.”

The appetizers roll out; fresh ravioli covered in parmesan and basil, oysters, creamy leak soup. You weren’t sure what to start with first. But everything tasted heavenly. Your tongue filled with different combinations of flavors that you enjoyed. Even the caviar, which you did think was a tad bit salty, but you weren’t going to tell Sylus that.

While the staff clears the table of the empty dishes, you see your boyfriend’s gaze to your wrist. It was brief and enough for you to notice. What else is he planning?

“Should I give you your gift now or later?”

You squint at him, “What did you do now?”

“Someone’s starting to sound ungrateful.” He traces your frame, not missing how your cheeks puffed up at his vagueness. “I did just buy you beautiful flowers, an entire restaurant…”

“I’m not ungrateful. Just curious.”

“Curious kittens don’t sound like that.”

“Sylus.”

He reaches in the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a box. It’s medium sized, covered in all black. When he opens it, a gorgeous silver bracelet graces your eyes, decorated in small, black gems. Your eyes get as wide as your mouth and once again you’re struggling what to say.

“The rookie of the year deserves a pretty bracelet.”

Sylus moves to put the jewelry on you, making sure it clasps around your wrist until it’s snug. The warm touch from his fingers spreading around your wrist. You hold it up for you to see it better, admiring its beauty.

“I’m never taking this off.”

“Good.”

The high of the gift Sylus’ gives you lasts for the rest of the meal. The multiple entrees come out including an herb encrusted salmon, a rack of lamb, and a roasted chicken. You’re wondering if you should take some of these as leftovers. Your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you got full a plate in.

Sylus notices the stuffed look on your face, calling the waiter for checks and a few take out containers.

Oh. You wanted some dessert too.

“And we can look at the dessert menu while we wait.” He gives you a wink when the waiter leaves.

You wanted to jump for joy and kiss his face. Actually, why not?

You sit on Sylus’ lap, hugging his neck and kissing his face. His chuckles rumbles across your body while one hand rests on your lower back. The other caressing your thigh.

“Don’t tell me I finally got you with the dessert.”

“Well…it helped.”

With a belly full of food, a pretty bracelet, and extra food for later, you’re practically skipping to the car. You weren’t even drunk either, you just felt happy.

You didn’t know what to do next after all of this. You were supposed to go home after a good day? That didn’t seem fair, did it?

You wanted to pout at Sylus and hint that you didn’t want to go home. Heck, you had the rest of the day off. It was almost the evening. But you held back a yawn ten minutes into the drive. Maybe it’s good to go home and take a nap.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He states, looking across the oncoming traffic, hand still on yours.

“I should at least go home and put away my award-”

“No need. It’s staying at my place.”

You purse your lips, “Who won rookie of the year again?”

“You did, so it’s mine by proxy.”

“So you’re holding my certificate hostage?”

“It’s not a hostage, if it’s willingly staying with me.”

You shake your head, deciding not to banter with him about it anymore. If he wanted you to come over his place more often, all he had to do was ask.

“Did you have a good day?” Sylus asks, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“Yeah, it was nice…” You gaze at him with love from your heart, “Thank you.”

“You deserve to be happy.” When he pulls up to the apartment, he doesn’t waste a moment to give you another kiss. A gentle one that allowed you to still taste the wine on his tongue. “But if you still want to thank me…” His whisper ignites the goose bumps on your skin. “join me in the shower.”

[wttcsms]

baby, oh baby ; satoru gojo

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader word count 1.2k synopsis gojo is surprisingly good at caring. (or: he comforts you while you get morning sickness and start spiraling). content contains thr*wing up (morning sickness), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, domestic fluff, soft!gojo, reassurance

Satoru Gojo knows he’s a dead man from the minute he swings open the bathroom door and finds you curled up by the toilet. 

Even in his shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have clearly seen better days, with your hair all messed up and your lips chapped, Gojo thinks you are absolutely adorable. Beautiful, even. 

He tells you this, thinking it’ll cheer you up, but all you do is narrow your pretty little eyes at him.

“You,” you practically snarl at him. “You did this to me!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Now, honey, I know it’s been a while since you took a biology class, but it takes two of us to, you know—” He gestures to your stomach, which still isn’t showing much of a bump since it’s only the first trimester, but you get the message. He decides he should have just shut up whenever you send him an absolutely scathing glare.

“It’s all my fault.” He immediately changes his tune. “You’re right, honey, I am an awful person for getting you pregnant. You should kill me for my transgressions.” 

“You want to make me a single mother now?” You snap at him.

“Okay, I see that that was the wrong thing to say.” Gojo tries to give you a soothing smile to calm you down, but it comes off as more of a nervous grimace. “I would never die early and let you raise our wonderful child alone. As a matter of fact, I refuse to die only until you tell me it’s okay to do so!” 

“Satoru.” You close your eyes, opening the toilet lid, anticipating another bout of morning sickness to come spilling out your mouth. “Get out.” 

“Nah. That’s the one thing I can’t do.” He dares to take another step into the bathroom, frowning at how cold the marble tiles are. It can’t possibly be comfortable for you to be kneeling on the floor like this, especially since you’re throwing up last night’s dinner. 

“Satoru, I’m not being funny right now. I’m seriously about to vomit, and you won’t want to be here.”

He kneels down by your side, gathering your hair in his hand and pulling it all behind your shoulders. “I’m not being funny, either. I’ll stay by your side no matter what.” 

You don’t reply to his sweet comment, even though you really want to. Instead, you actually do make good on your word, and only after you flush the toilet does he bother saying anything else.

“Do you feel a bit better now?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” You shut your eyes, leaning against him, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. Being pregnant sounded hot during the heat of the moment when the baby was being made, but now reality is hitting, and you’re already crying about how ugly maternity clothes are. You look like a wreck right now, and you’re barely nine weeks in with the pregnancy. Meanwhile, Satoru looks fan-fucking-tastic, as he always does. 

His hand finds yours easily, and he intertwines your fingers together. He starts to absentmindedly fiddle with your wedding ring as he talks. 

“What’s bothering you?” 

You know that while Satoru was pursuing you, there was a long line of women all excited and ready to be the one by his side. You know that Satoru sometimes is a certified flight risk, running away from intimacy when the feeling gets too overwhelming for him. You know that Satoru is the only man capable of breaking your heart, and he’s subsequently the only man who would be able to piece it back together. Even with a ring and a legal certificate binding you two together, there are still annoying little doubts running in the back of your mind that has only worsened through your anxiety of life literally being grown inside of you and unbalanced hormones. 

“Everything.” You tell him, and it’s not even a joke or an exaggeration. 

“Well, tell me something that’s bothering you now. Something I can solve.” He adds on this last sentence, already knowing that you would most likely ask him for the impossible just to be funny. As conceited as he acts to the outside world, Satoru is surprisingly caring and observant towards others. 

“What if our baby is ugly?” You look up at him, gauging his reaction.

At first, his eyes widen, and then he laughs. You can tell it’s genuine because you can feel the way it comes from his chest. 

“It has us as its parents. With both our genes combined, it won’t have much to worry about.”

“No! I’m serious! Haven’t you heard the saying that two pretty people make an ugly baby?” 

“Well, we’ll be the exception.”

“I’m being serious, Satoru! Your eyes are kinda scary to look at sometimes. Our baby will need brown contacts if it inherits your eyes.” 

Oh, so because you’re emotionally fragile, you’re allowed to make comments about his eyes? Satoru snorts. You better be lucky he loves you so much. 

“Why does it matter if our baby is ugly? Why is our baby being ugly even a thought in your mind?”

“This world sucks. Looking good is key to having an enjoyable experience on earth. You should start worrying about our child’s future, too, you know!” 

“I would fight the entire world if it mistreated our baby.” Satoru presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “And I know you would, too. So who cares if our baby is ugly?”

“That’s not the point, Satoru!” You frown, knowing that you’re being ridiculous right now, but who else could handle you in this state if not him? There’s a reason why he’s the one you call your husband, and he’s the one who put the aforementioned potentially-ugly baby inside of you. 

“Fine. If our baby is ugly, let’s leave it on Kento’s doorsteps and let it be his problem for the next eighteen years. Then, we can get started on the next and hope the second time’s the charm. Sounds like a solid plan?” He doesn’t mean it, but he knows it’s best to just try and nip these hypotheticals in the bud. 

You’re silent for a moment. Then, “You’re awful! I would love our baby, even if it had your eyes and crazy ass hair.” 

“I would love our baby, too. Ugly or not. You know why?”

“You’re going to say something corny.” 

“I was going to say that I would love our baby because it came from you. Nothing ugly is coming out of your body, babe. And anyway, I love you so much, how could I hate anything that’s literally half you?” 

Even if you’re in the mood to be annoying and insecure, and your brain is telling you to argue some more with your husband, you can’t help but relax after hearing this. 

(Nine months later, all your worries seem to be all for naught; your son is the cutest thing to be born.)

[strialternatives]

You mentioned in the tags of I think your comic of Akira and Akechi traveling that Akechi is first-aid certified in multiple countries. Does this mean something to any headcanon’s you have about what his adult life would be like? I love your palace au and i’m really interested in how he recovers afterwards!!

If it was just a joke then you don’t have to answer :)

that actually wasn't a joke! :D it started off as a "taking care of akira" investment that got outta hand ya see-

some background first! in my head shuake wind up traveling after Akechi's physical therapy and Akira takes an "extended leave" from uni then just. never goes back.

they travel China, then Thailand--near all the countries in east asia. at first, its about putting some distance between themselves and tokyo and all that metaverse ptsd baggage no one wants to acknowledge or talk about-

not that they don't have talks. they talk a lot, they have a lot of hard talks in hotel rooms, during quiet moments, about everything and nothing at all. akira is devastated to learn that his future husband is a dog person.

then, literally as they're about to book the plane back to tokyo, after months and months of travels and late night talks--akira offhandedly, mentions that he's always wanted to visit paris.

there's no reason for them not to. akira has an absurd amount of metaverse money, akechi has the key to a good chunk of shido's offshore assets. akira picks up languages quickly thanks to his personas and so does akechi.

and it kinda spirals from there. after that they only drop by tokyo for holidays and planned thief get-togethers.

akira's the type of wild card that picks up confidants everywhere he goes, he likes to help the people he connects with, and sometimes that comes with dangerous situations and hospital visits.

(the two of them are nosy, reckless and don't know how to mind their own business to save their lives. and akira is so kind to others and willing to help and his and akechi loves and hates him for it so, sooo much.)

at first akechi learns how to patch (his) idiot up for his own peace of mind, its manageable, he's used to patching up real world wounds. his initial mementos explorations were full of trial and error, after all.

--then there's this awful business with the russian mob that akira's gotten involved with during that part-time bodyguard gig protecting some small time lawyer's child during a court case and, well. he's two years in, somewhere between learning how to suture a stab wound from an underground doctor and looking up tameki-san again,

akechi realizes he's in this for the long haul. that he has to--unfortunately--lock in.

and he's GOOD at it, akechi likes being good at things.

he's not planning on being a doctor or anything, can't stay in one place long enough for a degree. but, picking up certifications still scratches an itch he wasn't aware he had. to heal instead of hurt--it helps that it starts with akira.

anyway, sometimes when he's bored and they're in one place for more than two weeks he'll go hit up foreign clinics who need a temp helper.