#cause i had a whole conversation with echos about how i thought being in a dimension where time moves slower than the outside world

[ssahotchnerr]

Hello! How are you doing?

I don't have anything extremely specific (sorry, I'm just leaving work and haven't really thought about this).

But if you want to, how about jealous Aaron who has the, very rare, opportunity to go pick up the reader from her job and see her all smiles with another coworker? In this case I was thinking that there might be a age gap between them and the male coworker is more of her age? So a bit of jealous and insecure Hotch?

If you feel comfortable with this of course!

Have a good day 😊

in comparison

cw; fem!reader, age gap, insecure :( and jealous!aaron, some angst, small suggestiveness, fluff <3 wc; 1.2k

You were exiting the building with a few of your colleagues, partaking in what appeared to be an entertaining conversation from Aaron's line of sight. The liveliness on your face was vivid, undoubtedly enjoying whatever the whole of you were collectively discussing.

You looked comfortable, relaxed, happy. You molded into the group well. One of your male colleagues in particular was inching a bit too close, a near awestruck expression on his face as a laugh escaped you. If he took one step to his right, his shoulder would be touching yours. While you were clueless, he was enamored.

Aaron felt his eyes harden involuntarily, a jealous heat swarming through his body; he wanted to march over there and assert his role as yours. However, the feeling wasn't long lasting. A profound sadness climbed up his spine, as he gained a different perspective.

It wasn't that you didn't fit into his life. On the complete contrary: you were the perfect addition.

But something about seeing you with others, with someone closer to your age, was daunting. Intimidating. It sickened him how natural the visual appeared. Reality has smacked him in the face numerous times over the years, he wouldn't be surprised if it happened again. That somehow, someway, you would prefer the latter. The one that had nothing to do with him.

As you walked towards Aaron's car, you glanced back at your coworkers, offering a wave and a smile as they jointly headed to the parking lot. His window was opened a crack, and he heard you call back towards them, "Have fun tonight!"

Aaron exhaled a breath.

"Hey." You chirped as you slid into the passenger seat, leaning over the center console to place a kiss on Aaron's cheek. He was rather stiff as you did so, causing you to lightly scrunch your nose in confusion, pulling away slowly. Something was up.

"Hey," He echoed, greeting you with an almost forced smile. The abruptness of his thoughts had unsettled him deeply - he couldn't shake them. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." You responded hesitantly, searching his face as you buckled your seatbelt. You added after a moment, happy to be in his company and the emotion overtaking your heart. "I missed you today."

But your words went unnoticed, as he had already reentered the void that was his unwelcome thoughts.

In result the car ride home was silent, Aaron's pout unfaltering. His mind was plagued by the image of your coworker being in his place, driving you home, or the two of you huddled together amongst a night out with friends. It caused an uncomfortable, sad pit in his stomach.

"You missed a turn."

"What?"

Your statement jolted him back to earth. No he didn't... did he? His eyebrows furrowed in a line, reassessing the current surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, all familiar street signs. When he confirmed he, in fact, did not miss a turn, he turned to you, only to find a knowing smirk plastered on your face.

His eyebrows quirked softly, obstructing the line drawn above his eyes. "What was that about?"

"To get your mind off whatever you're stewing about."

A smile threatened his lips, due to your witty expression and observation, "I'm not." His tone found a slightly lighter note - amusingly guilty. Anything but convincing.

"Aaron, darling, you're gonna break some teeth if that," Your playful demeanor dropped for a moment, your eyes tracing back and forth, as if you were in a trance. "Jaw of yours tightens anymore."

Your brief distraction eased a notion of his jealousy, he still had that effect on you, thankfully. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his stare forward.

"So what is it?" You asked, "Did you have a bad day?"

He shook his head.

"Bad bout of cases?"

Aaron grimaced, his knuckles letting up only to secure his fingers over the wheel again, "They're always bad."

"Something I did?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but only silence came out. His hesitation caused your face to fall, your shoulders dropping and posture succumbing to the back of your seat.

"No honey, no you didn't do anything." He was quick to reassure, feeling entirely worse. "I can assure you."

Your eyes met his, needing more.

He sighed defeatedly, surprisingly not afraid to bluntly admit, "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" You froze, but then it clicked. You gestured behind, as if your colleagues were somehow tailing the two of you. "Of...?"

Aaron bit his lip, nodding slowly.

Your expression lightened, a soft and genuine wonder in your eyes, "Why?"

"Are you okay with this?" Confusion arose on your face once more, so he clarified. "This. Us. You signed up for a lot, quickly at that."

Truth be told, the two of you had progressed at a rate neither of you expected, due to the sheer infatuation you possessed for one another. That, too, had been natural.

"I'm divorced, widowed, a father - I come with baggage. My 'going-out' are days long gone. I don't want you missing out."

"Aaron." In a way, you could laugh. It tore your heart into pieces he was thinking this way, doubting himself but he was clueless in an adorably, idiotic way. In summary, he simply never gave himself the credit he deserved. "What could I possibly be missing out on?"

"You could be spending your weekends out, socializing, with people closer in age. And yet, you're..." He came up with an example. "Making pillow forts. These are supposed to be the best years of your life. I'm terribly boring in comparison."

"Hey, I make a mean pillow fort."

He gave you a look.

Your hand grabbed his bicep affectionately, clinging onto it as if you were knocking some sense into him. "I chose this. I chose you. Jack is the addition to my life I never knew I needed. And I don't want to be out galavanting bar to night club to bar. I jump at the opportunity to deny a night out to spend it in. With you. When have you ever seen me wanting to go out and party?"

An expression of distaste flashed across your face at the concept, and Aaron's head tilted to the side as he considered your point.Yeah, that was true.

"I'm a homebody. And if there's anything I've realized over the course of the past months, you're my home. You."

Aaron let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know what I'm in for. And I embrace it with open arms. I want it." Your face was content, even more so than when you were talking with your colleagues. "I love you. And I love the life we're creating. It's so special, beyond my wildest dreams."

"Really?" A boyish, hopeful expression graced his face.

"Really. I wouldn't want it any other way. I can promise you. This- you're everything I could ever want."

Aaron's hand found your thigh, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. "I love you too, sweetheart."

You beamed in response - you'd never get tired of the words leaving his lips.

"That one guy though," Aaron raised his eyebrows, taking a quick glance at you. Envy began creeping back, "He seemed interested. Wasn't a fan of that."

You scoffed, unbothered. "I'm into men, not boys. Which again, you are the utmost depiction of." Your delightful smirk resurfaced, admirably looking him over. "Believe me, I couldn't be more satisfied."

He wanted to play into your suggestive remarks, but he needed further confirmation. Once more. "You sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

Finally satisfied himself, he surrendered, "Okay."

"In fact, I can think of a few ways to show you just how much later."

[crystalkitty1220]

Might have to scrap a fic idea because I thought the panic that came with time moving too slowly or too quickly was a universal thing, but now I'm realizing I probably have chronophobia and the fic might not feel the same to other people. Don't want it to drag on or feel rushed if readers won't get the same kind of anxiety the character's getting.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ LIFT YOUR EYES

꩜ pairing: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ rating: 18+, mdni!

꩜ word count: entirely too many. (9.3k;-;)

꩜ warnings/contains!: smut, virgin!spencer, sub!spencer, softdom!reader, loss of virginity, piv, handjob, mirror play(?), dacryphilia, slight body worship, pwp, unprotected piv(don't do that.), creampie, nervous spencer, marking, smidge of orgasm denial, praise, pet names, mention of and use of plan B, silly love confessions, no use of "y/n"!!, i think that's all

꩜ lyric: "lift those eyes, look into mine, cause i can guide you, i can guide you"

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts!

[WARNING! - explicit sexual content! proceed at your own risk!]

꩜ A/N: this is proofread but i'm a moron and can't read so no promises🤷‍♀️ ALSO! be nice to me i haven't written a single thing in like a good few years</3

Spencer had been acting off ever since he had drunkenly revealed that he was still a virgin on one of your group nights out. Being a profiler had many benefits, and this was definitely one of them. He was more withdrawn from all of you, had been keeping to himself, and kept conversations to a minimum. He was pretty inconspicuous with the ways he did it, but you picked up on it immediately. You couldn't blame him; he had been backed into a corner by Derek and Garcia, pressing him for a sex story, but what they didn't expect was his answer to be that he didn't have any, with Spencer leaving shortly after, the whole atmosphere being unbearable for him.

You acted the same with him; of course, being a virgin was nothing to be ashamed of, and you didn't see him any differently; he was still Spencer, and honestly, it didn't surprise you; he certainly wasn't the type to sleep around or have one-night stands, and you were sure you would've heard of an ex-girlfriend by now, which you hadn't, not a single mention, so you put two and two together and just assumed the others would do the same, but unfortunately not.

If you were being entirely honest, the fact that Spencer was still a virgin only made you more attracted to him. You were already borderline infatuated with him, but this newfound information only heightened it. You didn't really know when your crush on him developed, but it developed rapidly, your small crush turning into an intense desire. You couldn't stop thinking about him, thinking about how easy he would be to render a babbling mess, how he would be so sensitive and reactive to every little touch, and how pretty he would sound moaning your name. You had to force yourself to shake your thoughts, trying to focus on what you were actually supposed to be doing, which was mundane work tasks, and it didn't help that Spencer somehow always ended up in your line of sight. 

You managed to push through the rest of the day without much more zoning out and you were packing up your things to go home for the night when Spencer approached you, stopping what you were doing to give him your attention. He seemed on edge, his body language was stiff, and he wouldn't look you in the eye. "Can I uh- , do you mind if I come over?" He spoke meekly, and honestly, if he'd been any quieter, he'd be whispering.

You just smiled, ignoring his strange behaviour, knowing there had to be a reasonable explanation that you'd soon find out. "Of course, what's the occasion?" You pulled your bag onto your shoulder, ready to leave with him without much question. You didn't want to turn him down considering the recent events, and you also just wouldn't. You loved hanging out with Spencer; he was a breath of fresh air, completely honest with you, and just great to be around.

"Oh uh no occasion, just haven't hung out in a while." He gave you that straight smile he did all the time, still avoiding your eyes for the most part. You hummed in response as you motioned for him to follow you, making your way to the elevator, Spencer following close behind, your joint footsteps echoing through the empty space, the two of you being some of the last people in the whole building, which was eerily quiet.

Spencer didn't say a word to you on the whole way down in the elevator or on the walk to your car, and still not a peep halfway through the car ride to your apartment, you decided to pry a little—not a lot, but just to see if he'd crack and spill whatever it was that was bothering him.

"what's up? You're an unusually quiet Spence." You took your eyes off the road very briefly to glance at him, seeing that he was in a world of his own, staring out of the window, your voice breaking whatever his train of thought was as he looked back at you with a dazed look on his face, taking a moment to process what you'd asked him.

"Nothing's up; why would something be up?" His tone wasn't defensive, like you were accusing him of something, which is yet another reason why you knew something was definitely up. There had never been a single time where someone had insinuated something was up with him and he didn't get defensive about it, but you just took his word; he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and you weren't going to force him to yet.

"No reason, Spence, just thought I'd ask." You flashed him a sweet smile, and he nodded, going back to completely ignoring your presence. Something was seriously going on with him; you just needed to figure out what it was. Honestly, it was eating you alive the whole way to your apartment. He had never been silent for such a long period of time in the entire time you'd known him, and it was unsettling.

Once you reached your apartment, you unlocked the door and shuffled in, switching on a light before locking your door behind you just to be safe. You hung your bag on your coatrack and shrugged off your jacket, Spencer doing the same, both of you removing your shoes in unison before you turned and made your way to your sofa. "Wanna watch a movie?" you asked as you plopped down on your designated corner of the couch, looking over at him and awaiting his response.

"Yeah, sure," Spencer smiled. Following suit to your sofa and sitting at the opposite end, you furrowed your brows at his choice of seat. He always sat in the middle when he was here. Always. As if all the other unusual behaviour wasn't evidence enough that something was going on with him. This certainly topped it off, which prompted you to begin your interrogation, ready to present your extensive evidence.

"Alright, Reid, out with it. What's going on with you?" You turned to face him, your elbow resting on the back of the sofa as you stared him down.

"Nothing's going on with me? What makes you think that there is?" His tone was defensive this time, but not in an aggressive way; more in an accused way. His sudden change from in the car only further proved your point.

"You've been nothing but weird since you came up to me; you were completely silent the whole way here, and when I asked in the car what was up, you weren't defensive, which you've never done before; you hate when people insinuate something is wrong; you also haven't looked me in the eye this whole time; and finally, you're sitting on the opposite end of the couch." You finished your rundown by flashing a smile at him and raising a brow. You knew he couldn't deny any of it because you knew he knew you were right. It was your job, after all.

"Alright, fine, you got me, but it's nothing, really." Spencer finally met your eyes, his expression unconvincing. It wasn't nothing, and you knew it, but you just couldn't work out what it was on your own. You were good, but not that good.

"stop lying! I know it's not nothing, Spence. C'mon you can tell me. Promise nothing you can say will phase me."You shuffled closer to him as you spoke, now sitting in his spot in the middle. The sudden closeness of your body to his putting him under pressure.

"I don't know how to say it," he said softly, eyes fixed on his lap as he fidgeted nervously. His behaviour only made you more desperate to hear what it was. You'd never seen him so nervous before, so you knew it had to be good whatever it was, and you knew he had to get it off his chest asap. You also didn't think you could handle him being so quiet for a minute longer.

"Ugh, c'mon, just spill it; the anticipation is killing me," you giggled, trying to make him feel at least a little more at ease so he'd just get it out already. Spencer sighed, mentally preparing himself as he mustered up the courage to say what he was thinking.

"Okay, alright, you can absolutely say no, and we'll never talk about this again. It's completely your choice, of course. I would never try to force you to do something you didn't want to do, y'know. I completely understand if you say no; I won't take it personally. I just thought I'd ask just in ca-" You cut off his rambling with a loud groan, reaching out to hold his face with your hands and forcing him to look at you.

"stop rambling. say it. right now, Spencer Reid." You both sat in silence for a moment before he took a deep breath, closing his eyes before he finally said it. His words rendered you completely speechless as it all made sense; no wonder he was a nervous wreck.

"Will you have sex with me?"

The words bounced around in your head like a ping pong ball, repeating over and over and over again as you just continued staring at him. He cracked his eyes open to see the dumbfounded expression on your face, immediately regretting ever considering asking as he moved to get up.

"I uh- forget it, I'm just gonna go," he said, making a beeline for your door as you continued to sit in silence, watching him grab his jacket before you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a deep breath.

"I will," you said, opening your eyes again to see him completely still, back to you, so you couldn't see his face. The only reason you hesitated was because you weren't entirely sure that you were awake. You'd been daydreaming about a situation just like this one only hours prior, and when you realised that this was actually happening and Spencer Reid was actually asking if you'd have sex with him, you knew you couldn't turn him down; you'd be a fool to.

"you will?" Spencer finally turned to face you, his doe-eyes meeting yours. You smiled at his sweet expression; he looked almost excited, and you nodded. "Course I will, c'mere," you said nonchalantly as you patted the spot next to you, and he nervously padded back over, sitting next to you before you reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Is this about the other night?" You kind of already knew it was, and you weren't going to take it personally if the only reason he was asking was so he wouldn't be a virgin anymore. It flattered you honestly, the fact he wanted it to be you, that he felt comfortable enough to ask you and allow you to take his virginity.

Spencer sighed, "Yeah, I mean- not entirely, partly—I just don't want to have to tell another person that I'm still a virgin, but I do think you're pretty, of course! I'm not just using you," you let him ramble, knowing he felt the need to explain himself most of the time. You couldn't help but smile at his behaviour; he was always so put together and professional, and now he was completely erratic and hardly making any sense.

"You think I'm pretty?" You teased, pulling your lip between your teeth. Spencer then realised what he'd said; unable to backtrack, he opted for scrambling to explain, "I-I mean, yeah, you're stereotypically attractive; most of the population would be objectively attracted to you just based on a visual first impression." You couldn't help but laugh at his flustered state, moving to run your hand through his hair, the physical affection making him relax slightly.

"Can I kiss you, Spence?" You mused, your fingertips stroking the hair behind his ear. You already knew the answer to your question, but you wanted him to tell you that you could, that he wanted you to, you wanted his consent through the whole experience, making sure that he knew he could tell you if there was something he didn't like or if he'd changed his mind.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, hesitating for a beat before replying. "Please," he practically whined, his voice airy, and you felt the air shift. A whole different atmosphere filled the room as you gently moved your hand to his cheek, turning his face to you. You smiled, just staring into his eyes for a moment before you slowly leaned in, placing an experimental kiss on his lips, and he immediately returned it, which was then followed by another and another before your gentle kisses became open-mouthed, sensual making out, your lips slotting perfectly into his as he tentatively placed his hand on your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and pressing your body to his, your actions causing him to moan quietly into your mouth. The sound was sweet, like music to your ears, and you wanted more.

You tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck lightly, eliciting another moan from him, the pretty sound vibrating against your lips before you ran your tongue across his plush bottom lip, and he immediately knew what you wanted, opening his mouth to allow you to slip your tongue in, the feeling of your warm tongue exploring his mouth making him let out a whimper as he allowed you to completely dominate him, the sound awakening something in you as you moaned into his mouth before you broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, you quickly manoeuvred to straddle his lap, your skirt riding up your thighs, mere inches from exposing your underwear.

You began pressing open-mouthed kisses down Spencer's jaw and neck before you were stopped by the collar of his shirt. You pulled away, moving to take ahold of his tie before you hesitated, looking up at him. "Can I?" you asked, almost desperately. Spencer looked back at you, already with a lustful expression on his face, his lips swollen and red, his hair dishevelled, and his cheeks flushed pink.

He nodded eagerly as you still held his tie in your hand. "Ah, ah, words, honey." Honestly, you didn't need him to say it, but you definitely wanted him to. The idea of him having to outright tell you what he wanted or what you could do to him made your stomach flip.

"Y-yes," you saw his Adam's apple bob as he gulped, a sly smile spreading across your lips as you leaned in to place a few stray kisses on his neck, stopping just below his ear. "Good boy," your voice was sultry and teasing as you loosened his tie, his breath hitched at your words, eyes closed as he let you do whatever you pleased.

You discarded his tie on the floor, moving to unbutton his shirt, kissing lower and lower with each button before kissing your way back up to his collarbones as you started kitten licking at his skin, hesitating before biting down—not too hard, of course, as not to startle him too much. Spencer gasped at the feeling, a whimper following after. His pretty sounds were so much better when they weren't muffled, and you had to resist the urge to just unzip his pants and pull your underwear to the side then and there.

"You sound so pretty, baby." You spoke into his skin, flicking your tongue out to lick his neck, your words making him whine. "P-please," he mewled. His voice was high-pitched and whiny as he pleaded with you to do something, anything.

"Please, what, baby? Tell me what you want." You placed a few kisses on his cheek before pulling away, your hands resting on either side of his neck and your thumb stroking his skin. He was a nervous wreck, muscles tense and eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but your eyes. You let out an airy laugh while he gulped, trying to muster up the courage to tell you what he wanted. He was adorable, and it made you want to croon at him and take care of him, doing whatever you pleased without him having a say, but you knew you couldn't. This was about him, and you wanted his first time to be memorable in a good way.

"Aw, baby, it's okay; just relax; tell me what you want; I won't say no; this is about you and making you feel good, okay?" Your tone was soft and almost motherly as you caressed his cheek, trying to ease his nerves as best you could. Spencer looked at you with puppy eyes, his lips slightly pouting as he took a shaky breath, trying to force himself to relax.

"T-touch me, please." He whined, eyes still fixed on yours; you could've melted right there. The sight of his pleading eyes, swollen lips, messy hair, flushed cheeks, and bare torso beneath was enough to make you let out a muffled moan, surging forward to lock your lips with his in a desperate kiss, Spencer returning it with equal desperation.

You trailed your hands down his body, stopping to stroke his slim waist. His skin was hot to the touch and silky smooth, and the sensation of your hands caressing his skin made him whine into your mouth. You let your hand trail lower, stopping at the clear bulge in his pants. Your touch was feather light, teasing just a little to hear him whine again. You pulled away, watching him chase your lips before you fully palmed him over his clothes. The sudden stimulation made him gasp, jutting his hips upward into your hand for more.

"God, you're so fucking pretty, you know that Spence?" You rasped out, continuing to tease him, knowing that the material separating your touch from where he wanted you would get him hot and bothered. Your words made him whine and mumble something inaudible; your curiosity piqued.

"hm? What'd you say, baby?" You spoke softly, continuing to palm Spencer over his pants. His head was tipped back, resting on the back of your couch, his eyes closed and lips parted as he let out laboured breaths.

"I'm not," Spencer's words made you stop dead, the loss of stimulation making him open his eyes to look at you, only to find you already glaring at him, "What did you just say?" Your tone was stern, and eye contact was unfaltering as Spencer began to sweat under the pressure of your eyes and demanding tone.

"I'm not pretty," he murmured, shrinking in on himself and averting your gaze. You took his chin between your fingers and tilted his head to face you again. "Don't you ever say that to me again, Spencer," you ordered, watching him swallow thickly at your sudden change in demeanour.

"W-why?" he asked meekly, a doe-eyed, innocent expression on his face. You raked your hand through his hair, leaving a silence in the room before you answered his stupid question.

"Because, Spencer, you are pretty. Let me show you." You stood up from his lap as you spoke, Spencer gaping up at you with a confused expression on his features. His confusion was quickly squashed when you extended your hand to him, placing his hand in yours without question and standing up from your sofa, allowing you to lead him through your apartment to your bedroom. Once there, you kicked the door closed behind you before trailing Spencer to the side of your bed, pushing his shoulders down for him to sit on the edge before you switched on your lamp.

You moved to press a kiss to his lips, which didn't last nearly long enough for him, making him whine as you pulled away. You just smirked, moving to the side to get onto the bed with him, revealing the mirror directly in front of him, and he was about to ask why when you moved to kneel behind him, your hands smoothing up his back and stopping at his shoulders. You placed a kiss on his covered skin before you took his shirt in your fingertips, sliding it off of him, gently kissing his exposed skin as you did. Spencer assisted you in removing it before you balled the material up and discarded it on your floor.

You continued to kiss his soft skin, kitten licking and nibbling as you went, stopping at the junction at the base of his neck, looking up through your lashes to make eye contact with him in the mirror as you marked his skin, suckling and biting harshly, the sensation of your hot mouth on him making him whimper, feeling you smile against his skin as he did.

Once you were satisfied with marking his neck and shoulder, you shifted back, spreading your legs. Spencer whined at the loss of your body heat before you tugged him back into your chest, his head against your shoulder. Spencer watched you trail your hand down his body through the mirror, stopping at his waistband and bringing your other hand around his waist, starting to slowly and teasingly unbuckle his belt. Spencer swallowed in anticipation, his breathing picking up as you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

You trailed your fingertip over the outline of his hard length over his boxers, watching his brows snap together as his eyes fell closed, his mouth dropping open, a moan falling from his lips, the thin material of his underwear making the feeling much stronger than before. His reactions only egged you on, fully palming him and beginning to stroke him through the material.

"A-ah-p-please" Spencer mewled, reaching back to grip your thigh. You smiled, leaning your head into his, Spencer opening his eyes to see what you were doing. His eyes glazed as they connected with yours in the mirror.

"Don't look at me, look at you," you whispered into his ear. Spencer followed your direction, his eyes gazing at his own reflection. The sight was so foreign to him; he'd never seen himself like this; it made him feel vulnerable and shy, a blush blooming on his skin.

"Good boy, now lift your hips for me, honey," you breathed, hooking your thumbs into the elastic of his waistband. Spencer swallowed, letting out a shaky breath before he complied, raising his hips enough to allow you to tug his underwear and pants down to his mid-thighs, his cock springing free and hitting his pelvis. The sight made you pull your lips between your teeth, Spencer sucking in a breath and screwing his eyes closed at the cold air hitting his hot, sensitive skin.

"God spence, look at you, so fucking pretty, even got a pretty cock," you rasped in his ear, your lewd words making him gasp and blush a deep pink. You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he cracked his eyes open, watching you run your hands up and down his sides, the sensation tickling slightly, making him squirm against you.

"Can I touch you, baby?" You asked the question as if you didn't already know the answer; it was obvious, of course, but you still wanted to hear him say it. The question made Spencer roll his hips into nothing, subconsciously nuzzling his head into yours.

"Y-yes, please," he breathed, his eyes still fixed on his own reflection, watching as your hand trailed lower, painfully close to where he needed you, but you stopped just before your hand reached his length, drawing figure eights into the smooth skin of his pelvis. Spencer whined at your teasing, jerking his hips into your touch, urging you to touch him where he needed you, but you wouldn't; instead, you just let out a breathy laugh in his ear.

"I'll give you what you want if you do one thing for me, baby, just one. Can you do that?" Your voice was silky smooth, your light touch still on his skin, and Spencer nodded eagerly, "Yes!, yeah, anything! I'll do anything!" His voice was needy and whiny as he spoke, his head tipping back onto your shoulder as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at yourself and tell me you're a pretty boy," you said into his ear, your lips grazing his skin as you did. A smirk spread across your face when you heard his breath hitch in his throat, eyes opening to see you already looking at him, waiting patiently.

Spencer locked his eyes on himself, breathing deeply as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his skin heating up, a pink tint spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. You could see the hesitation in his eyes. You were inching your hand just slightly closer to remind him of his reward, mumbling "go on" under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I-I'm a p-pretty boy," Spencer stammered, his voice cracking and shaky as he spoke, instantly tearing his eyes away from his reflection, blushing impossibly harder, and his cheeks turning cherry red. You smiled wide, kissing his hot cheek. "That's my good boy, my pretty boy," you praised, finally taking his length into your hand. Spencer immediately let out a breath that formed into a whimper, relaxing against your body as you slowly dragged your hand up his shaft. Spencer let out a moan at the slightest stimulation, making you wonder what he'd sound like when you picked up the pace and stopped teasing.

You soon found out when you began languidly stroking his cock, not too fast but definitely not as painfully slow as you had been so far. Spencer was twitching in your arms, his hips stuttering into your touch while he let out strangled moans of pure pleasure. The whole experience was completely new to him; he'd never felt this good before, and it was going to his head, making him babble incoherently.

"Feel good, pretty boy?" You mused, your thumb rubbing his slit, and Spencer's hand flying to grip yours that rested on his hip, squeezing hard as he shuddered and whined, his back arching slightly. "S-so good, feel so g-good, d-don't stop, p-please don't s-stop," Spencer's voice sounded teary as he rambled, your hand continuing to stroke his length and your pace fastening slightly, drawing more of his sweet sounds from him.

"I wasn't planning on stopping, baby, don't you worry, I wanna see you cum," you finished your sentence by circling your palm over his tip, the action pulling a choked sob from him as tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over any second. Your eyes were fixated on his reflection, mesmerised by the way his body writhed against you, his hips rutting gently into your hand and his mouth agape as his head rested on your shoulder, the close proximity of your faces having him practically moaning in your ear.

"O-oh, my god! f-fuck" Spencer moaned loudly, his hips rutting into your hand more harshly as tears spilled down his pink cheeks, quiet gasps falling from his lips. You could feel the dampness pooling in your underwear as you watched Spencer fall apart in your arms. He looked irresistible as he gripped your bedsheets with one hand and your hand in the other. His entire body was shaking and twitching as he got closer and closer to cumming.

"I-I-think I-" Spencer could hardly form a sentence, at least every second word being interrupted by whimpers and sobs. You hushed him, understanding exactly what he was trying to say and opting to stroke him faster, tightening your hold just slightly. The change made Spencer arch his back into your touch, a choked moan filling the room, his hips uncontrollably rolling into your hand as he chased his release.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna c-cum, please p-please d-don't stop, s-so close." His voice was high-pitched and whiny as he lost control, his body spasming as he let out choked sobs. When you felt his cock twitch in your hand, you stopped at the base and squeezed tightly, preventing him from cumming. The sudden denial and loss made him cry out, and a non-stop stream of tears ran down his face and neck. He became a babbling mess, unable to form a sentence, just begging over and over again for you to let him cum.

"Shh, baby, shh, I'm going to let you cum Don't worry, baby, just do something for me, okay?" You slipped your hand from his to smooth his hair off his forehead, the sweat that had gathered making it stick to his skin. Spencer opened his eyes, his lip quivering and his waterline still teary. "p-please please, a-anything! j-just p-please l-let m-me, n-need it so b-bad," Spencer sobbed. The sound broke your heart, hearing your pretty baby so distressed.

"Watch yourself cum for me, baby." Your voice was low as you spoke in his ear, your hand absentmindedly stroking his hair, unknowingly soothing him slightly. Spencer nodded erratically, shifting in your hold as his gaze fixed on himself, his heart hammering in his chest. The anticipation of finally getting his release made his whole body start short-circuiting.

"Such a good boy for me, baby," you praised, releasing your hold on his shaft and drawing back to your steady pace. The abrupt stimulation had Spencer moaning almost pornographically, and the sound was music to your ears, knowing you were the only person to have ever made him sound and feel this way, only making it so much more exhilarating.

Spencer's breathing became exasperated as he tried to say something, his voice failing him completely, but you knew what he was trying to say, his cock twitching in your hand, giving it away. Spencer's eyes were trained on his reflection—something so sinfully mesmerising about watching himself and seeing himself this way—not many people have the chance to see themselves so vulnerable.

"P-please, c-can I?" Spencer mewled. You think if you said no, he might've broken down right then and would never forgive you. You weren't going to, of course. You wanted this as much as he did, and as soon as you whispered those three golden words, it was all over.

"Cum for me."

Spencer cried out as he came, his eyes rolling back into his head. His orgasm hit him harder than it ever had before, his mind going completely blank. cum painted his abdomen and your hand in spurts, the thick white liquid coating his skin as you milked him of every drop, working him through his orgasm. You only stopped when he let out a whine of protest at the overstimulation and tried to squirm away from you.

"So proud of you, baby; you did so so well, my good boy," you said sweetly as you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close to you while nuzzling your head into his and pressing gentle kisses to his hair.

You sat in silence while Spencer came down from his high, allowing him time to get his breath back. The sound was the only thing filling the room. You placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder before you spoke, "You know we don't have to have sex tonight if you don't feel up to it, baby; we can just cuddle; I won't mind." Your chin rested on his shoulder, eyes closed, while Spencer peeled his open, turning his head to look at you fully instead of through the mirror.

"No, I want to; I wanna at least try to return the favour." His voice was raspy as he spoke, all the noise he'd been making taking a small toll. You tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, the same strand that seemed to be perpetually out of place, your expression softening at his words, "Spence, you don't have to return any favors; I told you at the beginning that this was about you, not me." You knew Spencer was persistent and wasn't going to give in easily, or even at all, but at least you offered.

"I want to, for you...and for me," Spencer averted your eyes, shy at admitting wanting this for his own trivial needs. His conformation that he did in fact want this and he wasn't just doing it for you because he felt guilty was convincing enough for you as you pressed a kiss to his lips. The sudden action caught him slightly off guard, but he quickly recovered, kissing you back with fervour, the anticipation of what was coming making him borderline intoxicated.

You broke this kiss, tugging Spencer's bottom lip with your teeth as you did, the action making him whine and chase your lips, desperate for more, but you just giggled, pulling away from him completely as you shifted up the bed, his eyes fixed on you as you moved to begin slowly unbuttoning your shirt. Your pace was painfully slow, giving him a bit of a striptease, the way he licked his lips and scanned every inch of skin that was revealed only egging you on further.

Once you popped the last button open, you slipped the material off your body, throwing it on the floor alongside his shirt. The sight of your chest, although covered by your bra, had the blood rushing straight to Spencer's cock, his eyes too busy on your boobs to notice you clearly staring at him until you spoke.

"Wanna touch them?" It could've just as well been a rhetorical question, with the answer already blatantly obvious. Spencer nodded eagerly; his keenness was endearing, and it had you squeezing your thighs together and biting down your lip.

You furrowed your brows when Spencer sat unmoving until you realised what he was waiting for; "C'mere then, baby" Your go ahead had him closing the space between you at light speed, and your eyes trailed down to see him fully hard again. It was a lewd sight, his pants pulled down just enough to free his length, his stomach still covered with his release, and his neck, shoulder, and collarbones lined with dark red and purple bruises.

Spencer noticed your staring and whined in embarrassment, feeling exposed while you were still mostly covered. You couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "You want me to take my skirt off? Will that make you feel better, baby?" Your voice dripped with honey, and the premise of seeing you in just your bra and underwear made Spencer's brain turn to mush.

"Y-yeah, please," he rasped, his eyes scanning your body from top to bottom, watching as you moved to kneel and reached behind you to unzip your skirt, pushing it down to your thighs before you leaned back on your elbows, your eyes connecting with Spencer's as you concealed a smirk.

"Help me take it off, pretty boy." You fake pouted and fluttered your lashes. Spencer's breath hitched in his throat, letting out a shaky breath before leaning over you, taking your skirt in his hands and slowly slipping it down and off your legs, dropping it on the floor before his eyes trailed back up to your covered crotch, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight.

"Fuck c'mere pretty boy," you leaned up onto your hand, placing the other on the side of his face and surging forward, pressing your lips to his with fervour. The kiss was sloppy and desperate as you pulled Spencer down to lay on top of you, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your chest. He moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your soft breast in his hand, starting to knead and massage gently.

"Can I- can I take it off? please?" Spencer breathed, breaking the kiss, his hair falling around his face as he looked down at you. You bit down on your lip and nodded, arching your back off the sheets to allow his hands to slip around your body, fumbling with the clasps for a moment before they clicked open, your bra going slack on your chest. You weren't even surprised that he was also good at that.

Spencer let out a breath, watching you take the straps in your fingers and slowly pull them down your arms, finally revealing your bare breasts to him, his mouth gaping at the sight, seeing your nipples harden in the cold air, perking up and practically begging for him to suck on them, so he did, taking you by surprise when he leaned down, taking your nipple into his mouth without hesitation, wasting no time with testing the waters.

"Oh, fuck baby," you mewled, placing your hand on the back of his head and running your hand through his hair as he continued to suckle on your hardened nipple, letting out muffled moans into the soft flesh while he kneaded the other. You arched your back, pushing your chest into his face as he turned his attention to the other nipple, giving equal attention to both while you let out sighs of pleasure, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Spencer released your nipple once he was satisfied before burying his face in the crook of your neck, the movement causing his cock to press into your thigh, whimpering into your skin at the feeling. "Take your pants off, baby," you rasped in his ear, kissing his hair. Spencer immediately complied, pulling away and standing up from your bed before tugging his pants and underwear down his legs and stepping out of them, leaving them crumpled on the floor.

When Spencer turned around to climb back onto the bed, he was met with you completely naked, holding your underwear out to him on your foot, your lip pulled between your teeth. You giggled at his reaction, knowing that he'd be completely awestruck, not expecting you to be bare in front of him.

"Keep 'em if you like," you said teasingly, a sly smile on your lips as Spencer took the garment, dropping it on the floor along with the rest of your clothes and watching as you slowly spread your legs, completely exposing yourself to him, watching as his mouth dropped open at the view of your glistening pussy, feeling a little boost to his ego knowing that he was the reason you were wet.

"Are you going to come and fuck me or not, pretty boy?" You purred, watching him quickly climb back onto your bed, moving to be leaning over you again.

You could hear his heavy breaths, his body tense, nerves wracking his body under the pressure. You tucked his hair behind his ear once again, smiling sweetly at him. "Don't be nervous, baby; I'll tell you if you're hurting me or doing something wrong." Your words eased him slightly as he shifted closer, kneeling between your thighs, his eyes scanning your body from your face to your chest down to your waiting entrance.

Spencer didn't notice his breathing getting out of control again until you sprung up, taking his face into your hands, a worried expression on your face. "Hey, hey, breathe, baby, just breathe. You're okay. What's going on?" You tried to calm his breathing before it became a panic attack. Your soft touch and gentle words worked enough for him to talk to you. "I-i c-can't-" Spencer stuttered, avoiding your eyes and trying to pull away, but you just secured your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

"Yes, you can Spence; if you don't want to, that's completely different, but if you're just worried about doing it wrong, then you're not going anywhere." Your words made Spencer lift his gaze to your eyes, scanning your expression to see that you were completely sincere. He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to kiss you, initiating it for the first time. His kiss was gentle and slow, and you returned the same treatment, slowing the pace down to his comfort zone before you went any further.

You were the first to break the kiss for air, both your chests heaving and Spencer's nerves seeming to have subsided. You pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips before looking up at him, his eyes already fixed on yours. "You ready, baby?" You smiled, your hand resting on the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I am now." With that, you lay back again, watching Spencer smooth his hands down your inner thighs, urging your legs to open wider before wrapping them around and tugging you closer to him with no effort. The action made you gasp, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Spencer placed a hand on your hip before his head snapped up to look at you. "I don't have any protection, do you?" He had a slightly panicked expression, and you just laughed, realising that you, in fact, didn't. "Just pull and pray," you said it so nonchalantly as if it weren't completely irresponsible and unreliable.

"But that doesn't prevent you from getting pregnant, and it's stupid, are you sure? I could go to the st-" You cut him off with a loud groan, glaring up at him. "Spencer, I swear to God, please just fuck me." You weren't usually so forward, but right now you were borderline sexually frustrated with how much he was putting it off.

Spencer gulped, nodding as you sighed in relief, watching as he moved to stroke his length a few times, taking a deep breath before leaning over you, pushing his hips forward enough for his tip to meet your entrance. You gasped at the contact, rolling your hips up and causing his length to dip into your cunt. Spencer immediately pushed further in at the feeling, his jaw falling slack as your walls started surrounding him, wet and warm and perfect, his hips subconsciously rutting forward into you.

"F-fuck s-sorry," Spencer apologised, stopping his movements to make sure he hadn't hurt you. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer until he was bottomed out. A strangled moan ripped from his throat at the feeling of your soft walls wrapped around him. "O-oh, my god," Spencer breathed, his eyes screwed shut as he tried not to move, knowing that he had to wait and let you adjust to the stretch, which you were thankful for because it definitely was a stretch, making sure to mask the pain so he wouldn't worry. You lay quietly while Spencer let out laboured breaths, the hot air fanning your skin as his head rested on your chest.

Instead of telling him he could move You rolled your hips upward, Spencer moaning into your skin as you did, pulling out slightly before pushing back in, both of you moaning in unison. Spencer lifted his head from your chest and looked up at you, silently asking for reassurance. "Keep doing that, baby; that's good," you breathed, slinging your arms around his neck.

Spencer took your waist into his hands, continuing to roll his hips into yours at a steady pace, but you could tell he was holding back, trying so hard to be gentle and slow for you. It was endearing, of course, but you needed more. "F-faster, please" you moaned out, encouraging him to just give in and fuck you how he wanted to, how you needed him to.

He fastened his pace at your plea, his hips snapping into yours as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, moaning desperately into your skin. "F-fuck! S-so good, pretty boy," you gasped, gripping his shoulders harshly, your nails leaving crescent moons in his skin. Spencer didn't even notice the stinging; the feeling of your pussy clenching around him overwhelming his senses as he moaned and whimpered into your neck.

"O-oh god, s-so warm," Spencer whined, gripping your waist tighter as he rutted his cock into you harder, his tip brushing that perfect spot inside you, the feeling making you gasp, nails running down his back, leaving red streaks across his skin. "R-right there! F-fuck Spencer, don't stop!" you moaned wantonly, back arching off the sheets as the sound of skin against skin filled the room.

Spencer's movements were slightly clumsy and out of rhythm, but the way he filled you and moaned your name made up for it completely. You felt his hips begin to stutter slightly, knowing that he wasn't going to last much longer; it didn't bother you at all. Your expectations for how long a virgin would last weren't exactly high; you didn't even expect to finish, but when Spencer moved his hand from your waist down to tentatively rub circles on your clit, you felt a familiar knot forming.

"Fuck, baby, that's it!" You moaned loudly, Spencer's fingers working faster at your praise, reassuring him that he was doing good. You felt tears prick your eyes, the sensation of Spencer's cock dragging against your sensitive walls and his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit making your mind go numb, clinging to him as you ground your hips up to meet his thrusts, the head of his cock brushing your g-spot over and over again.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum," Spencer warned, voice strained and whiny as his pace faltered, thrusts getting sloppy as he neared his second orgasm. "m-me too baby just a l-little more," you whined, head thrown back against your pillows as a few stray tears escaped your eyes, thighs beginning to shake against his waist, your legs still secured around him.

It didn't take much longer for you to feel Spencer's cock twitch inside you, your walls fluttering around him as you felt your orgasm dangerously close. Spencer was suddenly trying to pull away to release on your stomach, your legs instinctively constricting him harder, desperate for your own release. "I-I c-can't hold i-it; you need to l-let me-" You could hear how much he was straining in his voice, desperately trying not to cum, but your mind only had one train of thought, and that was your own release.

"I-inside! p-please just c-cum inside!" You begged, Spencer's eyes blowing wide at your words, his cock twitching at the implication of filling you with his cum, and honestly, it seemed like his only option. Your thighs clenched around his waist and hands holding him with a vice-like grip, so he gave in, hands moving to hold your hips as he let himself thrust into your warmth, both of you moaning in tandem.

Spencer gave a few more sloppy thrusts before he choked out a moan, eyes squeezing shut and head tipping back as he released into you, burying his cock as deep as it would go, cum painting your walls in spurts, the feeling of the warm liquid filling you to the brim had to toppling over the edge, your back arching as you clenched around his length, a mix of his and your cum spilling out around his cock as he gently rocked his hips into you, riding out both your highs.

Spencer let himself collapse on top of you, his arms wrapping around you as he nuzzled his head into your chest, which was rising and falling quickly with your heavy breaths. You both lay in silence as you caught your breath, only remembering that you had to get up and clean yourselves when Spencer moved slightly, feeling more of his cum seep out of you.

"You should go pee." Spencer's voice was muffled as he spoke into your chest. You laughed lightly at the fact that he knew that. I mean he of all people would know that women had to pee after sex. "Well, get out then," you joked, Spencer cringing at your choice of words but complying, lifting himself off of you and slowly pulling out his softening length, both of you sucking in a breath at the feeling.

Spencer insisted on cleaning you up, taking care to be gentle and careful as he did, knowing you would still be sensitive before he all but forced you to pee, going on a tangent about UTI's and the statistics of how many women get them after not peeing after sex, and shoving him out of the bathroom. You finally got some peace to actually use the bathroom without him making you paranoid about your vagina falling off or something.

"alright! i pissed! happy now?" You walked back into your bedroom to find Spencer digging around in your closet in just his underwear, your bedsheets strewn on your floor. "Yes, very, where are your spare sheets?" he asked, turning to face you. You just stood in silence for a moment before you smiled, padding over to him, suddenly full of emotion as you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head into his bare chest. Spencer was surprised at your sudden affection but returned your hug, resting his chin atop your head and enveloping you in his arms, his larger body completely engulfing yours.

"What was that for?" Spencer asked when you pulled away, and you just looked at him with your eyebrows furrowed. "We just had sex, and you're asking why I hugged you? Got your priorities  straight, I see Dr. Reid," you jokingly rolled your eyes, feigning being mad at him. Spencer had learned how to differentiate when you were joking and serious pretty early in your friendship, so he just laughed at you, shaking his head but still curious as to why you decided to hug him.

You brought out your spare sheets from the closet, looking at Spencer with a look on your face that said everything: "I swear I looked there." He tried to reason, but you just scoffed, mumbling, "Yeah, yeah" and shaking your head.

Spencer all but forced you to let him help you make the bed, quickly regretting it when it turned into you both bickering over who was doing it wrong and who was doing it right, Spencer cursing more in the ten minutes it took to make the bed than he had in your years of knowing each other, but you eventually had the bed made, both of you getting in on your designated sides. It was a good thing you both religiously slept on opposite sides, or you think you might've actually become an unsub.

You switched off your lamp before rolling over and scooting over the bed to press yourself into Spencer's back, wrapping your arm around him and nuzzling your cheek into his back. "Are you...spooning me?" Spencer sounded as if he was trying not to laugh, and you glared at him even though you couldn't see him whatsoever and he couldn't see you even if a light was on. "Oh, I see, you don't appreciate my spooning you ungrateful little ass; I'll just be over here, don't you worry," you scoffed, rolling over aggressively and letting out an overexaggerated huff as you scooched right to the very edge of the bed, as far away from him as you could get, taking all the blankets with you.

"No no! i do! I really appreciate your spooning! come back!" Spencer laughed, reaching behind him to find you, his hand accidentally landing on your ass, making you gasp and swat him away. "Pervert! You're lucky you're cute, y'know." You rolled back over and moved to slot yourself behind him again, pinching his waist as a form of punishment for grabbing your ass before you draped your duvet back over him.

You both lay listening to each other breathing as you felt sleep begin to creep up on you. You heard heavy breaths leaving Spencer's lips. You poked him lightly a few times to be sure he was asleep before you whispered quietly, "I hugged you because I'm kind of in love with you." You held your breath, praying that he was actually asleep, and when he didn't reply, you let it out, sinking into the mattress as you let your exhaustion win, everything going black.

silly little epilogue!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you practically yelled, rushing out of your apartment with Spencer in tow, still buttoning his shirt, belt undone, and hair awry as you both hurried to your car. You had both slept in for work, completely forgetting to set alarms the night before. You only woke up when Penelope called you, asking where you were, eyes bulging out of your head when you noticed how late you were, Spencer stirring beside you at the commotion, opening his mouth to say something when you slammed your hand over his lips, his eyes widening when he realised it was Penelope on the phone.

You had to lie to her when she asked if you knew where Spencer was, telling her you had no idea and that you were sure he would be there soon. Spencer took the opportunity to jump out of bed to scavenger hunt for his clothes around your apartment.

You made a pit stop on the way to the pharmacy to pick up the morning after pill, the cashier looking at you with a knowing look at your appearance; your hair was messy, your clothes were askew and untidy, and there was not a lick of makeup on your face. You only realised you didn't have anything to take it with when you got to the car, and you were not taking it dry, opting to just speed off and deal with it later.

Your car all but screeched to a stop when you reached the building, both of you swinging the doors open and slamming them behind you, almost forgetting to lock your car as you tried to discreetly run-walk to the elevator, which didn't work. Passersby giving you both weird looks.

You did your best to fix yourself in the elevator, trying to look at least presentable to minimise questions from your colleagues. You didn't even glance at Spencer; how he looked was his own problem today. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, both of you striding out in unison, making your way through the office to the conference room.

"So sorry, I'm late!" You spoke, quickly making your way to your seat. "Traffic was terrible, sorry, hotch." Spencer followed suit, taking the seat next to you as everyone's eyes turned to you, looking at you both with a strange expression that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Hotch went back to the briefing, going over the details that you had about the case when you leaned in to whisper to Derek, who was next to you. "Can I have a sip of your water?" you asked, and Derek nodded, handing it to you without hesitation. You tried to slyly pull the pill out of your pocket and quietly remove the packaging, but you clearly weren't sly or quiet enough. Penelope was gasping from across the table.

"no way! you dirty dogs!" She practically squealed, everyone's undevided attention turning to you, some confused expressions at her outburst. "That, my friends, is the morning after pill, and those, my friends, are a whole bunch of hickeys; oh, may I remind you they came in together, by the way?" Penelope pointed as she spoke, at your hand and at Spencer, both of you blushing and trying to wrack your brains for an explanation, but there was none.

"My boy!" Derek celebrated, leaning around you to pat Spencer on the back. You turned to him with an apologetic expression, realising it was probably your fault for not checking that they were covered, too worried about your appearance.

"Why am I not surprised?" Rossi added, a few of the others agreeing with him. You could tell that everyone wanted to bombard you both with questions but knew that they couldn't because of the whole part where you were all in an important meeting, Hotch clearing his throat as a reminder, everyone's attention turning back to the case.

You took the opportunity to actually take your pill, throwing it in your mouth and taking a swig of dereks water before handing it back to him and turning your attention to Hotch, the meeting continuing as normal.

You didn't notice Spencer scooting closer to you until he gently tapped your thigh to get your attention, turning to face him before he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"I'm kind of in love with you too, by the way."

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Heart Matter.

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader

Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |

Summary: A few months after you left, Spencer thinks he sees you walking down the street, and his whole world is turned upside down.

Words: 3,2k.

TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death, pain and violence (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so much angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm so sorry, that's all I can say now.

Also, I thought about making this a series, but I'm not sure because I've never done one before and I've really only been writing here for about a month??? I'm trying hard.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

July 18th, 2011

The steady ticking of the wall clock echoed in Spencer's head as a reminder that his time in the session was ticking away, robbing him of the chance to express himself without sounding like a complete lunatic.

“I saw her.” He had to repeat it aloud after receiving a puzzled look from his therapist.

The woman pursed her lips. “In a dream? Are you having nightmares again?”

The lump in the agent's throat felt tighter and more suffocating, causing him to shift in his seat to hide it. He wanted to appear sane and focused, however much his next words were anything but.

“No.”

The therapist's intrigued look and the fact that she stopped writing in her notebook to give him her full attention made his hands tremble and his heart pound as he spoke again.

“I mean, I still have the same nightmares...but this, this is different.” Reid tried to explain hesitantly.

Since the day he found you lying in a pool of blood outside your sister's apartment, his mind had been tormented by the image and the guilt it caused him. The nightmares of seeing you again and losing you were a constant every night. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he woke up agitated, feeling again the emptiness of not having you by his side. And that was something his therapist knew better than anyone, because she forced him to write down every nightmare and tell her all of them.

Those bad dreams were supposed to be over, or so he had claimed for the past three weeks.

“How?”

“I wasn't asleep when I saw her.” Spencer finally blurted out in a slightly shaky voice. He had rehearsed the same conversation several times and always ended up feeling like a deranged man seeing ghosts. “I was on the street.”

That sentence instantly changed the tone of the conversation.

“It was after work, I went to buy some food because the case ended earlier than I thought. Her favorite Chinese restaurant is a few blocks from my apartment, we really liked to eat there...I bought some and when I came out, I saw her.” He paused for a minute, trying to mentally return to the moment that was relentlessly replaying in his mind. “She was across the street, buying flowers.”

He had to be quiet for a second, pausing to calm his own breathing. It was ridiculous, but the thought of you buying flowers again made him smile slightly.

You had always loved flowers and now he was supposed to bring them to your grave.

“I ran across the street as soon as I saw her, but I lost sight of her when a bus came across.” He said, struggling to finish his story.

“Spencer, listen to me.” The woman's tone alone let him know that she didn't agree with him at all. “It's normal to think we see someone we lost, it happens to several people. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her, and being near a place the two of you frequented contributed to the confusion.”

That was impossible because he would recognize you anywhere and there was no one else like you.

“You know the truth.”

Of course he knew.

He had been trying to live for six months knowing that you were already dead.

Six months of him trying to deal with your ghost. Six months of him on his knees begging for this to be just another nightmare. Six months of reliving the last time he held you in his arms. Six months of being dead in life.

“Yes, but she looked different.” He explained, receiving a puzzled look that prompted him to provide further clarification. “Her hair was shorter, much shorter. And if I were hallucinating her ghost, I'd see her the same way I saw her the last time, or maybe the time before that. It wouldn't be so different from the way I remember her.”

“You lost two important people on the same day, it's not about logic.”

From her reaction when he concluded his session, it was evident that she considered his perspective to be irrational and clouded by the effects of grief.

And maybe it was.

July 30th, 2011

A few days of missing therapies and locking himself up at work already had consequences.

It was the second time a case had ended earlier than expected and Spencer had to go back to his lonely apartment and find excuses to leave without feeling sorry for himself. It was hard for him to be in his own home without you, surrounded by the photos you always insisted on taking and framing to preserve moments that were now torture. So the best solution was to make unnecessary purchases or lock himself in the nearest library.

Anything was better than being locked in a room with himself, so he decided to read in a room full of strangers who provided the company he so desperately needed.

The bad news was that the library's closing time had come earlier than expected for unknown reasons, and life seemed to force him to face his reality on the busy streets of Virginia, taking every possible alternate route to delay his arrival home. He didn't want to have to open the door knowing that no one would be waiting for him, that you wouldn't be there asleep on the couch after watching a marathon of your favorite movies, or just trying to read one of his books so you could discuss it with him.

His mind was still hazy and his eyes were wandering through the shops of the city when a familiar and unmistakable figure appeared before his eyes, just a few meters away, coming out of one of the shops on the next street.

It was you again. Unmistakably you.

He started running without a second thought, but the streets were so crowded that it was hard for him to move through the mass of people. His heartbeat was out of control and probably everyone could hear him, but he didn't care about looking crazy, he just needed to get a little closer to talk and make sure it was you.

The city's public transportation seemed to be against him, because just as he was about to cross the street, not caring that the light was red, another bus crossed the street and almost ran him over. Just a few inches and the story would have been very different for him. Everyone on the street was whispering, car horns were honking and every now and then someone would ask him if he was okay or look at him like he was a psychiatric patient. But nothing mattered to him, there was only your image in his mind and the possibility of finding out if he was really going crazy or if your ghost was haunting him.

When he managed to cross the street, there was no sign of you, and his therapist's words echoed in his mind as a symbol of temporary insanity brought on by pain. Try as he might to ignore his conscience, there was no way to find you in the sea of people, and he had no choice but to enter the store where he thought he saw you coming out.

“A woman bought something here a few minutes ago, she had a bag slung over her shoulder.” Spencer spoke quickly as soon as he walked in and approached the local salesman. He paused only when the man nodded in confusion at his attitude. “Do you know her name? Where she's from? Does she come here often?”

The man's lips were sealed, he just waved his hand to let him know he would only talk for money. He didn't even flinch when Reid pulled out his badge and repeated that he was FBI. Anyway, the thirty dollars was the master key to get the information and the security camera footage, which was barely visible because of the poor quality.

“I don't know who she is, it's the first time I've seen her. There aren't many customers on my shift, and not everyone buys that many books.” He began to speak under Spencer's curious gaze. “She paid cash and bought a bunch of classics. And she had a limp.”

“Are you sure? Which leg was it?”

There was a short silence, which the salesman used to remind himself, and Spencer's nerves got even more out of control.

“I don't remember which leg it was but I was definitely limping. I noticed that when she climbed the ladder, I had to help her.”

January 11th, 2010

“Can we eat here?” You asked after reading the sign that said the restaurant's elevator was under repair. “There are a few tables.”

Spencer couldn't help but frown and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. His eyes searched for yours. “I thought you wanted to come up, the view is your favorite thing here.”

You two were at your favorite restaurant, a Chinese food paradise with the best view in city, according to your expert opinion. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been there, so you had already more than booked a table, and this one was on the third floor. Your favorite part of going there was seeing the moon.

And of course, Dr. Reid was the kind of guy who always paid attention to the little details. He remembered everything, and could probably tell what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

“Let me take you upstairs, please.”

His puppy-dog eyes and a single phrase were enough to get you to let him take you by the arm and lead you up the stairs at a slow pace. By the time you got to the second floor, he offered to carry you like a princess. You had no choice but to accept, especially since it had already taken you more than ten minutes to climb a single floor. The pitying looks from the other diners were starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You mumbled as you reached the table and he pulled up a chair for you.

He smiled. He loved how you said his name and wanted to hear it for hours.

After you both sat down and made your requests, you spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask why I can't climb a ladder?”

“I won't ask you anything you don't want to answer.” He said simply.

You felt like you could tell him anything, even your darkest thoughts. Your sister had already talked about it. Either it was the Reid effect, or you were just madly in love with him. Both were quite similar in your view.

“I hurt myself while I was practicing ballet. I made a really bad move.” You spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He frowned when he heard you. He had no idea you played the sport. “I was supposed to have quit, so I didn't tell anyone. Only Emily knew. I didn't treat it until the injury got worse when I went out in the field on a case. That's how I retired from the FBI. My mom freaked out, and my left ankle was screwed up for my whole life.”

Before you turned your attention back to Spencer, you prepared yourself mentally for the sympathy he would undoubtedly show. The curious thing was that in his eyes, there was nothing but interest and gratitude for having allowed him to know more about you. That was what kept you talking.

“There's an operation to try to fix it, but recovery takes quite some time. I'd rather always take the elevator and avoid the stairs as much as possible than have to rely on Emily to take care of me for three whole months. She has work to do and would go crazy having to be my maid.”

“I would.” He said without hesitation. When you looked curious, he elaborated. “I'd take care of you.”

“For three whole months?” You asked, sounding rather incredulous and as if you thought maybe he was just being extra nice.

“For the rest of my life, if you let me.”

September 5th, 2011

“There's no way you could have seen her, Spence.”

JJ's eyes fell on his friend's not-so-shaky ones, and a part of her churned inside, not knowing what else to say to him. It was eleven o'clock at night, the first time in several days that Spencer had shown up at her house to try to find comfort and perhaps understanding.

“I know, I know it shouldn't be possible.” He replied and went back to pacing the room, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his godson or his friend's husband. “But it was so real...maybe I'm crazy.”

“You're not.” She said firmly, getting up from her seat to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

At the time, even he didn't know for sure, and that made him fear that he had lost his mind. He was hungry for a love that he would never have again.

“You just miss her.”

No, missing was nothing compared to his feelings.

“It's more than that, much more. I haven't been able to catch my breath since she left.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair as tears formed. “I miss Emily, too, and I don't see her walking down the street.”

Silence fell over the room because no one had anything to say. There weren't enough words to describe the situation. The only sound that could be heard was the man's sobbing on Jennifer's shoulder, trying to be encouraged with words.

“It's going to be all right, Spence.”

He didn't say it out loud, but he thought he'd never get anything right in his life if all he wanted was you.

March 14th, 2010

The coffee he was carrying kept him warm as he made his way through the chilly FBI offices. Spencer wondered if the air conditioning had broken down when he reached the technical analyst's office and a conversation stopped him in his tracks.

“My take? She looks like she'll be Mrs. Reid one day.” Penelope's voice was heard after several loose sentences that the boy couldn't understand from the other side of the door. He figured they were talking about him and his relationship with you.

“I hadn't thought about Reid being legally part of my family until now.” Emily spoke next, letting out a few chuckles. “I'm going to have mini geniuses for nephews.”

“Stop it, we're just dating.” You spoke with some nervousness, still reeling from the implications. “It's not like we're getting married tomorrow.”

As he leaned against the wall by the door to hear better, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about what he was doing. He knew it wasn't right to overhear other people's conversations, especially if they were about him. But he had a feeling he needed to know what you were saying about him when he wasn't around. It wouldn't hurt to just hear a little bit.

“Don't pretend you don't talk about future names for your babies, I heard you two.” Garcia spoke again.

“It was a random conversation.”

“About baby names?” She gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean is that bringing things forward is not good.” You began to speak, completely ignoring the previous point. You were trying to be the voice of reason in the midst of their ridicule. “But I'd like him to be the one.”

“I think I'll shed a tear or two because you've grown up so fast.” Your sister commented in a teasing tone that hid quite a bit of truth. She gave your hand a quick squeeze and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking again. “What's up with that look on your face?”

You frowned. Spencer's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “What look?”

“You know which one I mean—the one you put on when the coffee runs out.”

Reid's hands began to sweat. He felt like a teenager trying to figure out what the girl he liked really thought of him. Did you ever have doubts about your relationship? Did you ever picture yourself with him in the future? Was he really the one for you?

“The scariest thing about love is getting hurt.” You said, trying to initiate the idea. Unfortunately, Penelope beat you to it and spoke up.

“I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you.”

“I know, I don't care about that.” You spoke up again after a few seconds, looking around the room as if lost in thought. “What if I do it? What if I break his heart?”

Oh, that was certainly not something Spencer was expecting to hear.

“How would you break his heart? Not answering his calls for five minutes and seven seconds?” Interjected Emily with a teasing tone to try to lighten the mood and get a smile out of you. “I don't think either of you would consciously hurt the other.”

And right after that, the protagonist of the discussion entered the room, causing the three of you to remain silent and pretend that nothing was going on. You could only smile when your boyfriend came in with a hot coffee for you and you saw the tender looks the two women gave you.

“Thank you.” You said.

“It's nothing.” He replied, pulling you close to surprise you with a hug that brought him close enough to your ear to whisper. “You could never break my heart.”

September 21st, 2011

Ian Doyle was only a couple of meters away.

Spencer's fist throbbed and burned, still stained with the blood of the man who had taken everything from him seven months ago. He knew he had done wrong, that he had promised everyone that he would only talk to the terrorist, and that he had done much more than that. The team had barely been able to get him out of the interrogation room because he was out of control with rage.

He wanted to make him feel a lot of pain and a minimum of what you and Emily probably felt that night.

“You need to calm down.” JJ came out of the meeting room to stop him before he could go in.

“I'm calm.” He replied, still trying to regulate his breathing. He could see his friend raise an eyebrow, and he decided to speak up again to avoid upsetting her. “This is about as calm as I can get right now.”

As soon as he was done speaking, Reid tried to keep going to the room, but the woman was in his way again and stopped him from opening the door.

“You have to be calm for what Hotch has to tell you. I mean it.” Jennifer said, after receiving a confused look. “What you're going to see now...”

“I'll be fine.”

Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he opened the door to the room. Spencer thought he'd find photos of the crime scene that ruined his life, maybe some testimony he didn't know about, or even the killer there. But none of that was true, and it made his heart stop.

“Hi.”

You certainly broke his heart this time.

[scoutswritingcorner]

More Papa Headcanons!

PLATONIC Papa!Alastor & GN!Child!Reader

Angst Flavored~

First Part

TW: ANGST- Just a teeny tiny bit. For the soul. Oh and Susan is mentioned.

A/N: Enjoy~

I usually leave this part up to you guys, the readers of my ramblings, but what if you were born out of wedlock? You are technically Alastor’s bastard child. Especially during that time period? That was greatly frowned upon and you never knew who your mother was! But despite all of that, Alastor and his Mom adored you. (Don’t get me wrong she probably chewed his ass out for it but she adored you.) 

Now, as you grew older people started saying it to your face, even kids at your school. But everytime you brought it up to Alastor he got angry, not at you, so he teaches you how to defend yourself and makes sure that you know to never start a fight. 

But once in hell, the name still sticks. Susan once overheard Alastor and Rosie’s conversation about it and called you that to your face. (Mean ass old woman right there.) And to say you were upset was an understatement, you knew better than to get into adult’s business but you just ran to your Papa sobbing cause you had thought you escaped that treatment. Despite being in Hell. You’re just clinging to his pants as you try your darndest not to cry but gosh the words keep echoing, both Rosie and Alastor are immediately worried about you. Cause you never cry or cause too much trouble!

Once they hear what Susan said? Rosie has to keep Alastor from flipping his lid. You stay by his side the rest of the day too scared to go play with the other kids in Cannibal Town. It shouldn’t bother you too much but you’ve been called that your entire few years of living and now it’s followed you down to Hell? What if the others start doing such a thing? 

Not to worry, Auntie Rosie shuts the whole thing down if she even catches a whiff of it. 

NOW ONTO NICER THINGS-

Full credit to @aceblaze01 for the idea of Vox being in Child!Reader’s afterlife! Especially when he and Alastor were hanging out(idk if I should call them partners). He was like an odd Uncle to you! Also 100% would let you watch kids cartoons on his screen, but you were so confused by it that you stood there staring at him before finally getting comfortable to sit down and watch those weird picture shows your papa talked about. He would totally put on Disney films for you. 

You watched Bambi once and ended up crying. He had to hold you and calm you down before Alastor was alerted. After that he stuck with everything else but Bambi. 

You sometimes go with Alastor to Overlord meetings and sit next to him drawing, not paying any mind to what’s going on either. You mostly draw your Papa and Auntie Rosie but you’ve started to draw Vox and that man cries when you hand him the drawings of him with very shaky handwriting and misspelled words. He loves it and keeps it hung up on his wall framed and everything. You gave a drawing to a lot of the nicer Overlords as a thank you for letting you join with your Papa. You gave one to Zestial, Carmilla and many of the unnamed ones that didn’t look too scary..you gave those to your Papa so he can give it to them. 

Even after all those years and Alastor’s falling out with Vox as a whole, he kept your drawings still safely framed. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Valentino said one bad thing about them and got the shock of his afterlife. That’s the last time he brought it up. He still checks up on you, makes sure you're alright. Even though he can’t physically be next to you cause Alastor would lose his fucking shit, he makes sure he has people check up on you. 

Vox has killed people who even thought of putting a hit out on you before Alastor ever caught wind about it. He’s not a man to play around with when it comes to you- his little niece/nephew/nibling (gender neutral term for niece/nephew).

During exterminations? Alastor stays with you the whole time. He doesn’t need anything hurting you. He keeps you in his room with books and anything else you want to bring. When you're in the hotel and extermination is around the corner, while the hotel is relatively safe. He still makes sure you stay far away from any doors leading to the outside. 

Oh boy, you are the only one able to sit in his tower with him while he works! He has a chair designated for you and will answer any and all questions about his work (even if they do get silly and repetitive). You’ll fall asleep sometimes when he’s on air and he doesn’t miss a beat wrapping his jacket around you as he continues to talk.

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Idk if you're still taking requests, but I have one if you do have some time 🥺🥺

I went to see my family after a while, and it was awful. There was no kind words and I had successfully avoided them until they caught me as I was leaving. My only saving grace was my adorable 4 year old niece. On the flight back, it took everything in me to not bawl my eyes out and just pretend to be occupied. But when I came home I just cried myself to sleep. I really just wanted someone there to tell me that I'm worth it and not just a burden. It's tiring to pretend I'm okay and not lonely with no one in my corner.

If this isn't too heavy for you, totally understand if it is. Could you do Steve and Bucky just being there for the reader. Maybe they heard the end of the convo with her family and waited until they got home to comfort her.

Thank you, and please feel free to ignore if this is too much, I can understand ❤️❤️

Not A Burden » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader x Best Friend!Steve Rogers

Summary: Bucky and Steve comfort you after visiting your family.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I had my fair share of awfulness with my family over the years. Just know it gets better, but it takes time🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.

Bucky and Steve knew something was wrong when they heard the tone of your voice when you were talking to your family. They went with you to visit your family for the day. You thought it would be easier knowing that they’re with you. It was, but your family didn’t make it any easier. You tried your best to keep quiet and not start a fight, but your family constantly started fights and arguments when you didn’t want to do that. Bucky and Steve caught the end of the conversation with you and your family before leaving.

“I don’t know why I even came here if I’m just going to get blamed for something I didn’t even do!” You shouted.

They heard the crack in your voice. You stormed past Steve and Bucky, making your way to the car. They watched as you got in the car and slammed the car door. They took that as a sign that you wanted to go home. They said a quick goodbye to your family and left. You were really quiet on the car ride home. Normally you point out the scenery, but this time you didn’t. You just put your headphones in your ears and listened to music on your phone the whole ride home. Bucky and Steve occasionally glanced back at you to make sure you were ok. They knew you weren’t. They brainstormed ways of how to make you feel better when you guys got home.when you guys got home, you immediately went to your bedroom and slammed your bedroom door, making it echo throughout the apartment. They went to your room and knocked on your bedroom door.

“I’m fine!” You say through tears.

Steve and Bucky sighed before opening the door and walked in your room to see you crying in your pillow. Their hearts broke when they seen you like this. They sat down on either side of you and rubbed your back to calm you down. They decided to get you talking when your cries decreased a little bit.

“Do you want to tell us what you and your family were arguing about before we left?” Steve asks softly.

You sat up and faced them, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your cheeks wet with tears.

“It’s always the same argument with my family.” You start. “I’ve always been the family member they didn’t love cause my mom had me at a young age and my dad didn’t stick around to help raise me.” You tell them.

“That shouldn’t be your fault.” Bucky says.

“Try saying that to them.” You sighed. “Everything is my fault to them. They blame me for the stupidest things.” You say.

“Anything they said isn’t true.” Steve says.

“They don’t know how amazing you are.” Bucky says.

“They don’t think so.” You looked down and picked at your nails. “Apparently to them, I’m worthless and a burden.” You say, tears brimming in your eyes again.

You looked up when Steve and Bucky gently grabbed your hands. They watched as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Bucky reached his right hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it and wiped your tears away.

“Never say that about yourself, sweetheart.” Steve says softly.

“You’re definitely not a burden. You’re worth it in so many ways.” Bucky adds.

“Thanks, but you guys are only saying that because you’re my best friends.” You say and sniffled.

“We mean it, doll.” Bucky says.

They’re right and you know it. A smile slowly formed on your face. They always know what to say when you’re upset. You sat up on your knees and hugged them.

“You guys really know how to make a girl feel special.” You say.

“It’s our job to make you feel special.” Steve says.

You kissed their cheeks and sat back down. Then your phone dinged. You grabbed your phone from your nightstand, smiling when you seen a text from your 4 year old niece who most likely stole her mom’s phone to text you. Your smile got wider when you opened the text and seen a cute picture of her.

“Who is it?” Bucky asks.

“My niece stole my sister’s phone to send me a cute picture of herself.” You say, showing them the picture.

Bucky and Steve looked at the picture and smiled.

“It’s nice to know that your niece brings out your happiness.” Bucky says.

“So do you guys.” You smiled. “I love you guys so much.” You say.

“We love you too.” They say in unison and kissed your cheeks.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[separatist-apologist]

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Life moved slower. Elain woke each morning to open windows and her husband gone, already up for the day. She’d become lady of the house which was a whole job in and of itself. Was it wrong to weaponize her knowledge from the future to smooth things over between people? Maybe, but she did it anyway. 

Partly because navigating this new world made Elain nervous. She knew everything in theory, but not in practice—and not in-depth. She made mistakes even children didn’t, which caused gossip about the barbarian the emperor had married. 

She knew men had gone to Lucien to complain, though the results of said conversations were never shared with her. She’d asked once, laying on her stomach as she traced designs over his bare chest.

Lucien had merely flipped her to her back and with a kiss, urged her not to think about it. But she did, nervous that it was going to be his downfall. What had she already changed? Elain spun herself in circles wondering if everything they knew about the Empress was simply her, right now, doing exactly what she’d done. Had she been studying herself?

Elain tried not to think too hard about it lest she drive herself insane.

She threw herself into politics much the way Arina did, the pair like university students all over again as they read works long lost to their present day time. So much of it was fascinating but a lot more was painfully dry. Even Arina couldn’t get through half of it, groaning as she stared upward, bored to tears.

“Just ask Lucien for a sword and we’ll start killing people,” she said with a roll of green eyes. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

“We shouldn’t murder the people who annoy us,” Elain hissed at her friend. Marrying Eris had been a mistake—Arina was becoming far too Romanized far too quickly.

Arina shrugged. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do and kill your rivals.”

“Did Eris give you a knife?” Elain questioned.

Arina grinned. “I’m starting a collection.”

Of course she was. 

For all the stress, though, Elain found she was happy. No longer did she have to wonder what things looked like—the vibrancy of the ancient world astounded her. She could see statues as they were, brightly painted in hues of red and yellow and blue. She could read the literature, could sit in grand atriums while philosophers debated passionately on topics they still discussed two thousand years in the future.

Sometimes she wished she could tell them they were immortalized in these discussions and their writings. That academics still taught their works and students still engaged in the same passionate debates. So many things from Rome still existed in the future, from their sewage systems to the roads they’d built, all the way to the language they used and the influence it would have on European languages. Their myths, their gods—all of it still existed as some faint echo of a past humanity would never return to.

And she wasn’t just witnessing it—Elain was part of it. Her mind couldn’t comprehend all of it. The whys, the hows—if it was magic or some other explanation they were too primitive to understand even two thousand years in the future—it didn’t truly matter in the end. Sometimes she thought she’d wake and find she’d merely dreamt it all up.

And other times she was certain she’d been born here for how natural it all felt to her. At times, Elain forgot everything else but the present—at least until something jolted her out of her bliss. She’d see something that reminded her of Graysen or her sisters or her home and spend the rest of the day wondering if they still thought of her. What they made of her disappearance.

She knew her sisters would be in pain over losing her. Gray would move on, eventually, and Elain genuinely hoped he did so with minor emotional wounds. 

Her sisters would never forgive her if they learned she could have returned and chose not to. Elain was grateful they’d never know. Maybe that made her a coward—she simply couldn’t bring herself to care, especially as time went on. They’d continue their lives without her and maybe they’d all see each other again some day.

But not in this lifetime.

What had once seemed like a terrible decision seemed like the best idea Elain had ever had. Maybe that was all the lead water she was drinking, though. She was happy, and that was all that mattered. She watched other women marry, participating in the ceremonies as the Emperor’s Consort. She was part of festivals and just generally seen in the city with a guard of heavily armed soldiers Lucien made swear to protect her, even at the expense of their own lives.

And she had Arina.

That was enough. 

Her favorite part of every day was when Lucien finished with the things he did to tell her everything, eyes bright as he stripped down to nothing. If he found it strange telling a woman about the political machinations of his empire, Lucien never said. He, instead, treated her like one of his advisors. He asked her advice on how to handle delicate situations both with his patricians and Senators and when trying to adhere to Roman diplomacy.  

And then, once he’d said everything he needed to say, Lucien all but got on his knees and kept her up half the night. He acted like he’d only just discovered sex. Sometimes she felt the same way. 

“Tomorrow I will be unforgivably late,” Lucien told her, hand on his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. 

Elain rolled to her side. “Why?”

Lucien shifted, eyes on the dark ceiling overhead. “I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

She’d heard him say that only once before, and in the aftermath it had been an assassination he claimed to know nothing about. Elain very much doubted that was true, though his hands were clean. Eris likely arranged the entire thing, which seemed to be how things were done between them. Elain often wondered if Lucien truly trusted his older brother, or merely kept him close to prevent a coup. 

She doubted being married to Arina would stifle his political ambitions. 

That was a personal question for Lucien to grapple with. She knew he loved Eris, and figured Eris must love his brother to some degree if he was willing to stand by him even when everything he’d worked so hard for had been ripped out from underneath him. Beron had intended to drag his own son down with him, and never planned for his wife’s illegitimate child to take his own full-blooded son's place.

History said Eris remained loyal until he died, but Elain didn’t know how much of history she and Arina had already rewritten. They’d never know without returning to the future to read the books. She assumed something must have been altered since all records of Helena were gone save for Lucien’s own writings. She was here, though she didn’t dare leave a record other than her mere existence which was immortalized on coins and paintings and whatever doodles Lucien left in the margins of his documents. 

She seemed to recall a half naked one with exaggerated breasts that had been so amusing at university and was now a little mortifying to think about. 

“Should I go to sleep without you?” Elain asked, pulling herself from her endless musings. 

“You can try,” he replied with that handsome, slick smile of his. “I’ll wake you up.”

“You’re a devil,” she said, forgetting he didn’t know that word—Elain quickly attempted to explain, foregoing the religious connotations to avoid getting bogged down with the future of Christianity. While Elain liked listening to Lucien talk politics, he loved hearing about the future. He was interested in the culture of her home, the art, the literature. She’d spent a full week explaining the Real Housewives to him in great detail while he’d listened, rapt and glassy eyed in his enjoyment.

Elain intended to explain Star Wars to him later simply to sketch out a lightsaber and see what he thought about it. She thought Lucien would enjoy that. 

Just enough time had passed that Elain had grown complacent. She’d forgotten everything that happened during Lucien’s reign. She forgot the early years.

She forgot the coup. 

The day passed like any other. She and Arina dressed and ate, talked with the other women living with them currently, and spent the later afternoon in the city buying materials for dresses and some rather pretty flowers likely handpicked by the small child Elain gave the coins to.

They returned home and bathed after eating and Elain intended to turn in for the evening mostly out of boredom. Lucien wasn’t coming back until late, there was limited lighting which made reading difficult, and the heat of the day had taken its toll.

“Where is everyone?” Arina asked, looking around the strangely empty halls.

“Wherever Lucien is, I’m guessing,” Elain replied glumly. Arina wasn’t having it through, brows knit together as she truly looked.

“Everyone? Even the children are gone—”

“To bed—”

“Oh please, there are no bedtimes here. I heard one of those monsters screaming at three in the morning last night.”

Elain, too, paused to listen. “Is anyone here?”

“What day is today?” Arina whispered, gripping Elain’s forearm before Elain could go any further. Heart racing, she only shrugged. 

“I don’t remember,” she admitted. The calendar was different, the days rearranged according to the Julian Calendar. 

“With me,” Arina whispered, turning while clasping Elain’s hand. If anyone watched them, it looked like two women merely wanting to be close. Not panicked, not scared—not yet. They walked as they normally did, eyes straight ahead as though nothing were amiss as they both counted back the days in their head.

When had it happened? The attempted coup that ravaged the city in flame—the assassination attempts, the upheaval? In her joy, Elain had forgotten how rocky the early years of Lucien’s transition were.

She’d forgotten his new wife went missing.

Arina closed them into the bed chamber she shared with Eris, locking it for good measure. “It won’t stop them—but we’ll hear the lock turn.”

“And then what?” Elain demanded as Arina made her way across the room for the collection of knives she’d bragged about. “We should leave.”

“They’ll be waiting to ambush us,” Arina replied coolly. “We have the element of surprise.”

“We’re also just the two of us against a bunch of men with swords,” Elain hissed, watching as Arina shoved a chair against a door. “There is no where to go.”

“Wrong,” Arina said with a relish, pushing against the wall. A little cubby opened, big enough for the two to slip through unnoticed. “You didn’t notice servants coming in and out?”

Elain wasn’t about to admit she was too busy admiring Lucien to notice what anyone else was doing, especially when they were alone in their room. Having given Elain a dagger, the pair slid into the wall just as the knob of their door rattled. They both froze, half hidden in the dark. Elain’s heart raced with fear.

“Where can we go?”

“The countryside,” Arina whispered before pulling Elain in. They still had time, though not enough. Not to mention, the last time they’d tried to flee they’d been caught by highway robbers and Arina had nearly died. Staying in the city was suicide, leaving a death sentence. 

Arina’s grip on Elain’s hand tightened painfully. They only thing they truly had going for them was near prophetic knowledge of the future and, hopefully, a memorized map of the city’s layout.

They burst into the kitchen, a place Elain had never seen and was desperate to snoop around in.

“Not now,” Arina replied, tugging her toward an open door leading to the courtyard. 

It would have been a clean getaway had that guard not been standing there. He was clearly just as surprised to see them as they were to see him. The pin on his armor didn’t belong to Lucien—it was another man's crest, another man's loyalty paid out in copper and gold.

“You ah…” he hesitated, clearly unsure what he should do. “You should go inside.”

“We’re just strolling through the garden,” Elain tried, offering up her most charming smile. “Surely you wouldn’t begrudge us an evening stroll?” His hand went to the hilt of his sword and Elain knew he had no qualms about killing them here. Arina took a step back, eyes wide with fear. 

“Stand down,” Elain whispered, hiding Arina’s dagger in the folds of her skirts. She wasn’t going to die this day—not after everything else.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” that dark haired soldier said. 

It was Arina who struck, slamming her blade so viciously into his throat that blood sprayed everywhere. Elain had never seen rage like that, manifesting in each brutal stab. Channeling her inner Brutus, Arina hacked even when the soldiers knees buckled, brown eyes bulging in death. 

“It’s over,” Elain told her, swallowing bile before she vomited everywhere. Oh, the movies made killing seem so easy. So elegant.

It was horrible. 

“It’s over,” Elain told Arina, pulling at her arm. Arina swung, sharp blade slashing through the air. Her beautiful face was coated in blood, staining the blonde hair now hanging over her shoulders. “He’s dead.”

Arina looked down, expression hardening. “Let's go,” she said, reaching for Elain with trembling fingers. She’d lie and say that killing that man meant nothing, but Elain knew the truth of things. She knew the hardened act Arina put on was just that—an act. Underneath it, she was just as soft as Elain was, and just as scared. 

“Do you think this is why there’s no record—”

“Smetti di parlare,” Arina hissed, holding a hand up to silence Elain entirely. “This is not where you die.”

But Elain wasn’t so sure as several more soldiers poured into the courtyard, unable to see them in the dark and yet clearly looking for them. Arina grabbed Elain, hiding the pair behind the large concrete base of the god Jupiter. Elain counted four of them, which wasn’t horrible, but they were well trained and armed, and they were unlikely to get away with another brutal stabbing before they were killed, too.

“This way,” Elain whispered. She knew the garden like the back of her hand—knew every shortcut, ever tall hedge, and where even the bees were kept should it come to that. They were somehow silent, dodging a chicken that hadn’t been put in the pens that evening. The servants seemed to have vanished, too—had they been told to go. Or did they simply know what was coming? 

Trying not to feel betrayed—and failing miserably—Elain continued on, wishing Lucien would come charging in. She strained her ears for any sound of his thundering voice as he heroically cut down anyone in his way to get her. There was nothing but the shuffling of feet and whispering of soldiers looking for them. Elain could see no way out.

“Look,”Arina whispered, turning Elains head toward vivid orange in the distance.

Rome was burning. 

It was a distraction, terrible as it was. A nightmare for her husband, wherever he was—did he know what was happening at home? Would he come back to empty bedrooms and blood soaked floors? Dead guards and her and Arina missing? She’d never wished for a phone more than she did right then, so she could shoot him a quick text telling him her plan. To tell him she was safe—and to hear he was, too.

There was only a stretch of silence before the screaming began. People flooded out of their burning homes both to escape a truly terrible death and in an attempt to keep the flames from spreading. Arina and Elain both stopped for a moment, half hidden by a copse of olive trees. 

“He’ll crucify Hybern for this,” Arina whispered. 

“If he isn’t slaughtered,” Elain replied, her voice cracking at the thought. Arina tugged, and the two took off again. They could consider the horror of the evening another night. For now, all that mattered was survival.

They weren’t lucky. When a soldier stumbled upon them just as they were headed toward the stone walls, it was Elain who struck first. He hadn’t seen them—was simply patrolling, sword still sheathed. Was it honorable to kill him? That was a question for the philosophers, though Elain did throw up when she pulled her knife out of that man’s throat. 

Arina only grimaced. 

“Do you think it gets better?” her friend asked. “How does Eris do it?”

“He’s a menace,” Elain managed, stepping over the still twitching body. “That was…”

No one ever mentioned the way you could feel the slice of tendon and muscle, the snapping of cartilage and the wet sound a human made when they tried to gasp for air that wouldn’t come.

Elain was sick again right there in the grass. 

“In another life, Eris would have been a techbro,” Arina said, trying to take Elain’s mind off of what she’d just done. “And I would have fist fought him in a parking lot.”

That made Elain laugh. “I think Lucien would have been a politician,” she admitted, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’m not sure I would have voted for him.”

“You’d be such a Jackie though,” Arina told her. “Vogue would have loved you.” It was almost funny. Blood in their hair, hands shaking as they continued their journey through the garden in an attempt to escape Rome with their lives while they made jokes about being in Vogue. 

They were so close to vanishing into the city. Mere steps away when they saw him, coming up the hill on a gray horse. Not Lucien or Eris, or anyone they recognized—but Hybern. He looked rough. Illuminated by orange glow, Elain could see an ugly, purpling bruise on his face. Selfishly, she hoped Lucien had given it to her.

“Arina,” Elain whispered, pulling them both behind the wall.

“No,” Arina hissed, back flat against the stone. “It’s suicide.”

“They think we’re dead,” she reminded Arina. 

“He will kill us,” Arina countered, grabbing Elain’s wrist. “We need to run.”

“There’s nowhere left to go. Rome is burning.”

Arina looked over the wall again before ducking back down, unnoticed as Hybern continued through, flanked by two men wearing wickedly sharp blades. “What do you want to do?”

Elain sighed. “Follow me.”

LUCIEN:

Striding up the steps, Lucien had a sense of deja vu. I’ve been here before, he thought to himself, which—of course he had. Hundreds of times in life, even. But right then, he felt the hand of the gods stopping him. 

Warning him.

“What is it?” Jurian asked, hand already on the sword at his hip. Lucien’s eyes cut to Eris, impassive as always. His brother looked from Lucien to the forum up ahead.

“It’s quiet,” Eris finally said. 

Was that what stopped him? No, he thought, feeling phantom fingers squeeze his shoulder. Minerva was warning him, her presence looming large behind him. It wasn’t just the silence and the lack of bodies milling around—it was her voice whispering against the wind.

Don’t go.

“What do you know?” he demanded as he rounded on Eris. 

Eris raised his palms in defense, eyes narrowed. “If I wanted to see you dead, brother, it certainly wouldn’t be a group effort.”

Their eyes turned toward the Roman Forum again.

“Surround it,” Lucien murmured to Jurian. “No one part of the plot leaves alive.”

Jurian vanished as Lucien took that next step. Eris glanced again. “I have no part in this.”

“I almost wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Lucien replied with a heavy sigh. He understood why so many who’d come before him were so paranoid. He could trust no one, maybe not even his brother. 

Eris turned to Lucien, face blazing. “I won’t pretend I’m not angry. It was supposed to be me, not you,” he hissed, face red with rage. “But it was father, not you, who thwarted my ambition. And I sleep peacefully at night knowing whatever pit in Tartarus he inhabits is made more miserable by the knowledge the bastard son of his wife rules in his stead.”

Lucien took a breath, allowing Eris to add, “I’m with you until the end, brother.”

Lucien wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t afraid as they continued their assent. Even with Juran placing his soldiers strategically, there were simply too many unknowns. He could die here. 

“If I die—”

“You won’t—”

“If I die,” Lucien repeated softly, careful not to let his words carry, “take care of my wife. Swear you will let no harm come to her.”

“I swear,” Eris replied, eyes glittering. “But only because there is no need to uphold it. You will be in her bed this evening while she tends to your minor wounds and praises you for rooting out the conspirators.”

That was a charitable picture of what Elain was likely to do. Lucien knew she was more likely to chew off his ear as she’d done after the games in the Coliseum. Still, that was better than never seeing her again. If he’d known that morning, when he woke up, that he might never see her face again, Lucien would have remained in bed a little longer.

He would have told her he loved her.

Taking a breath, Lucien forced himself into the same place that, nearly two months earlier had been soaked in Beron’s blood. There was a spartan group of senators, led by Hybern. Lucien should have guessed, he supposed—the man wanted war, wanted to push the borders of Rome into territory they couldn’t take. Hybern would fight Neptune himself if he thought it would win him favor and gold. 

He was no better or saner than Nero in that regard. Lucien should have killed him when he first became Emperor. 

“Oh, Hybernius,” Lucien said, adopting the air of a disappointed parent. “Is this what it's come to?”

“You’re weak,” Hybern replied, dark eyes nearly black. “And a bastard from Syria who has no business sitting on the throne.”

Lucien raised his brows. “Challenge me, then.”

Hybern gestured around at the Senators he’d managed to win over, their blades likely hidden beneath their togas. 

“Challenge me like a man,” Luicen replied just as Jurian stepped into the open room, sword in hand. He handed it to Lucien with a grim smile, glancing toward the pair of open double doors. 

“You have a rat in your number,” Jurian lied. 

True fear slithered other Hybern’s features. He’d been so confident of his course of action, so sure things would work out in his favor. Now he’d die on the same marble floor so many others before him had, his reputation tattered. Lucien would get to write history—he’d ensure everyone remembered Hybern as little more than a pathetic traitor intent on undoing the legacy of Rome for his own selfish gains. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Lucien said, eyes sweeping the room. “I’ll let the birds do that. Your bodies will serve as a reminder to the populace of what happens to traitors of the empire.”

He was going to crucify them. He’d have them beaten and then made into a spectacle, forced to endure the humiliation of the city stares before hung up on the cross. It was, he’d been told, an agonizing death. 

It was what Hybern deserved. 

“Where is your wife, Augustus” Hybern whispered in response. Lucien froze. He wouldn’t dare. Eyes sliding to the windows at the far end of the room, Lucien found he couldn’t see his palace against the blinding brightness of the rapidly setting sun. Beside him, Eris had become taut with rage. 

Lucien’s plans shifted. He’d kill Hybern right here, right now, simply to satisfy his need. The threat against Elain was too far—she was innocent in all this. Lucien advanced, sword unsheathed as Jurian motioned for the Praetorian Guard to swarm in. It was meant to be a bloodbath—and in some ways it was. In the chaos, Lucien lost Hybern. The smell of blood and the flurry of bodies, the unsheathing of weapons—it gave the traitor a chance to slip away.

Lucien and Eris were just behind, Jurian at Lucien’s side.

“Get them to the palace,” Lucien ordered, knowing he ought to go instead. “Get Elain out.” Jurian hesitated—he wasn’t supposed to leave Lucien. 

“Please,” Lucien added, letting some of his fear slip from his otherwise cold countenance. Besides, he knew exactly who he needed for this endeavor. Jurian nodded, branching off as Eris and Lucien stepped into the city.

“You can’t trust him,” Eris hissed. He’d always been able to read Lucien’s mind.

“I apparently can trust no one but you and Jurian,” Lucien replied. “I’ll take men who fight for money over men who fight only for themselves.”

It was night by the time they reached the rather nice home Rhysand had made for himself. Lucien didn’t bother knocking—why should he? Everything Rhysand had was by his grace and mercy, and he could take it all back if he wished. Did the great Thracian General resent it? He had to, Lucien reasoned.

Rhysand looked up from a chair, dressed in a simple chiton and sandals. “Please, come in,” he said dryly.

“I need your sword,” Lucien told him without preamble.

“Why would I accept?” Rhysand countered, clearly bored with the whole spectacle. “I’d like to go to bed.”

“Would you like to kill some Roman’s before you fall asleep?” Lucien shot back, ignoring how the words felt treasonous. 

“We’ll pay,” Eris added in a bored tone. 

“It better be a lot of gold,” Rhysand grumbled as Eris tossed Hyberns emblem into Rhysand’s outstretched fingers.

“Only men wearing that,” Lucien said. “Kill them however pleases you best. Leave their bodies in the street.”

“Stop or I’ll think you’re propositioning me,” Rhysand said, throwing a wink at the pair. “Try not to die.”

Lucien only nodded as Eris sneered, clearly displeased with the whole thing. They turned to leave him, aware he needed to dress, just in time to see fire erupt in the distance. 

“He wouldn’t,” Eris whispered, his expression sliding into fear. Lucien’s heart raced at the sight, mind terribly empty.

Rome was burning. 

By the time Lucien made his way back to the palace, it was well into the evening. He and Eris had raced down to the sight of the flames, organizing the vigiles from their homes and beds to help citizens douse the flames. He trusted they’d get it under control, diverting the flow from the aqueducts so the water was more abundant where it was necessary.

But it took time—time that caused whole neighborhoods to burn to ash. The rebuilding would be costly and time consuming, especially in the middle of summer. If Hybern wanted to fund a war, burning his own city seemed antithetical to the cause.

To Lucien, it felt as though Hybern had decided to take as much with him to the grave as possible. Lucien wanted to kill him. 

Lucien would kill him.

Drenched in sweat, heart pounding in fear, he made his way into his palace to find the entryway soaked in blood. Eris paused, too, sword held in one hand. They said nothing as they stepped over the bodies of traitors, men who’d sided with Hybern and had come to slaughter innocent women sleeping in their beds.

Had they succeeded?

Neither Lucien nor Eris spoke a word as they made their way over more bodies. Blood seemed to stain the marble walls, seeping into the cracks as it dried. How much of it was Elain’s, he wondered with dread in his heart.

His bedchamber door was wide open, the furniture strewn about. Someone had come looking—and hadn’t found what they were looking for. There was no sign of a struggle, that Elain had been woken by violence and dragged out. Still, Lucien wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her, dead or alive.

“She’s probably with Arina,” Eris whispered, his voice hoarse. They turned for Eris’s bedchamber, which was far worse than Lucien’s. They’d clearly been in the room at some point and the scene of destruction was violent. Furniture was splintered and ruined, clothes pulled from drawers, windows cracked. A panel in the wall was left open—is that how they’d gotten out? Had they heard the commotion and made a run for it? 

Lucien didn’t need to ask his brother to follow behind him. All he heard was his half panicked breathing as his mind began conjuring the most horrific images imaginable. He saw Elain’s body, broken and bleeding, eyes lifeless and her spirit gone. He could see no scenario in which Elain somehow managed to invade a swarm of well-armed soldiers with her life.

They emerged in the kitchen to a grizzly sight. 

Eris exhaled when he saw that dead body. “Arina,” he murmured as though he were some kind of prophet. How he knew, Lucien didn’t ask. He merely followed into the dark where they found yet another body butchered with the unmistakable politeness that belonged to Elain. He could practically see the apology written into the skin beside the smell of vomit wafting upward from the grass.

“Where are they?” Lucien asked, turning to look toward the glow of the palace. “You don’t think they went into the city?”

Eris crossed his arms over his chest. “How much of the future do you think they know?”

“Too much,” Lucien groaned. They sprinted for the palace, though in truth Elain and Arina could have been anywhere. Was Hybern stupid enough to return here, when fleeing the city, living in exile, and amassing an army to better challenge Lucien would have been the smarter course of action? 

In the end, Lucien and Eris found Arina standing before Hybern and six soldiers, kneeling before him with her eyes cast down. He was delivering some sermon, orating before a woman forced to listen. Lucien wouldn’t have wished it on his worst enemy. 

“Step away,” Eris ordered, ending the long-winded explanation.

“You’re outnumbered,” Hybern said. Who had given him the black eye, Lucien wondered? Was it Arina? Gods above, he hoped so. The humiliation at being bested by a woman would follow him straight to Tartarus. There would be no heroes welcome for Hybern in Elysium. “Its over only for you.”

Lucien’s tongue was stuck to his throat. If Arina was here waiting to die, where was Elain? There was only one explanation—she was already dead, body yet undiscovered. It filled him with an icy hatred he couldn’t quite swallow. 

They couldn’t take all seven without letting Arina die. Eris must have calculated the odds in his heads, too, and come to the same conclusion. Was her death acceptable collateral damage? Could Lucien look his brother in the eyes, could he ask for his support knowing he let his new wife die so they could retain control of the empire?

What would he do if it was Elain?

Lucien felt impulsive and reckless. Maybe he didn’t care. Why should Eris get his wife when Lucien’s was almost certainly dead. The unfairness of the fates to bring her to him, only to cruelly snatch her away.

He took a step forward as Hybern raised his blade for Arina. She looked up, eyes blazing not with defiance, but amusement. 

“No—” Eris halted as a shadow moved just behind Hybern, slipping from behind a curtain. A moment later the sharpened tip of a dagger protruded wholly through Hyberns throat, causing his eyes to bulge with fear. He tried to turn, but Arina was on her feet in a flash, taking advantage of everyone's surprise to add her own dagger to the mix. 

“I warned you,” Arina said. “I told you that you died tonight.”

Elain’s face was pale and splattered with old and new blood. She wasn’t built for war—Lucien’s sword was unsheathed, his mission reaffirmed. Hyberns soldiers never got within an inch of her beautiful face. They met Lucien’s sword swiftly, turning their attention to him and his brother while Elain and Arina continued taunting a dying Hybern as though they were Seers blessed by the gods.

It must have been terrifying final words, though, and for that Lucien was grateful for the pair of them. He’d laugh about it later. Right then, all Lucien cared about was Elain, staring at him with the widest pair of brown eyes.

She laughed when she saw him. Laughed even as tears began to gather in her eyes and laughed some more when her knees gave out and he had to hold her against him. It was nothing like Arina, who began yelling loudly at Eris in that strange language, hands flying while his brother merely nodded his eyes as if he understood a word of it.

Maybe he did. After all, Eris did say, “Watch your tone,” in a soft growl.

“Elain, I…” Lucien felt immense shame as he looked upon her. He’d sworn to keep her safe and failed at the first opportunity to prove he was a man of his word. 

Elain merely threw her arms around his neck, face buried against his blood stained toga. “You’re alive. I was so afraid…so afraid…”

Lucien murmured nothing that was reassuring before Jurian returned with a good half of the Praetorian Guard. The night wasn’t over—but his wife was alive. Ordering soldiers to stand outside her door, the three returned to the city to help with the flames and sweep up the last few remaining dissenters. 

They all met Rhysand’s blade while the Thracian General smiled widely, face upturned toward the inky night sky. He’d never seen the man happier which disturbed him. That was a problem for another day, another time. 

Right then—all Lucien needed was Elain.

He didn’t bother washing himself, still coated in blood when he found her standing in their bed chamber.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, making his way toward her. Lucien meant to cup her face in his hands, but his knees gave way, causing him to once again kneel before this woman. Lucien bowed his head, hair sliding over his neck and if she’d wanted, she could have taken his head from him. Maybe he deserved it.

Elain’s dress rustled as she joined him on the ground, doing what he should have done—taking his face between her hands so he had to look at her.

“It was worth it to be here with you,” she whispered, eyes searching his own. “I have no regrets. Do you?”

“None,” he swore. “You are my empire, Elain. The only fealty I ever swore loyalty to.”

“Then rise, Lucien,” she murmured. Lucien did, taking her hand in his so they came up together. He reached for her then, kissing her fiercely. Elain had defied the very nature of time itself to be here with him, to live in this place. For him. She hadn’t stayed out of duty or some great love of the past, though he suspected it didn’t hurt that she was interested in his home and this place.

“Never again,” he swore, holding his wife close. Mouth pressed to her hair, Lucien repeated his vow. “Never again. 

Two thousand years in the future, historians would examine the events of that July night. Papers would be written, accounts examined, sites dug up. Artists drew their renditions of the Emperor running into the street to put out the fire, of the Thracian Gladiator who fought side-by-side with Romans to quell a would-be coup.

And of the Empress who’d slaughtered the initiator of the plot. Elain understood, now, why there were limited records of Helena—because she was from the future, and couldn’t reveal how much she knew without destroying, perhaps, the very fabric of time.

Lucien wrote very little of her as well, though they did exchange letters that she knew would be mostly lost to time. Her face would be forever etched on coins, her memory preserved in academic works. In that way, she never really left her friends and family, though she doubted they’d ever see it that way.

But for Elain, it was enough. 

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Gits

(Eventual) George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Prompt: The announcement of the Tri-Wizard tournament creates drama.

Word Count: 1894

Reader: Female

Warning: None

Author’s Note: Where are all the George Weasley fanfics? I'm back in my HP phase and I've already read all of them. AO3 too. This was written before I fell off the face of the Earth too so no promises my skills are up to par.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

=====

You let out a chuckle as you watch the boys become mesmerized. The ladies of Beauxbatons let out sighs and dreamy looks as they parade down the center of the Great Hall. They were indeed angel-like creatures but the reaction was a bit overdramatic. The boys are drooling, hooting, and standing. It was quite entertaining, honestly. You take a glance over at the Gryffindor table, the look on Ron’s face sends you into fits of giggles.

Next, the boys of Durmstrang come through the doors. Well, men of Durmstrang. Whatever is in their water in the north, you need it here. The men are doing flips, twisting their staffs and it’s very entrancing. This time, the girls are the ones drooling. They were, indeed, very attractive. What catches you off guard, though, is the last two people who enter.

Viktor Krum and Igor Karkaroff.

Your mouth opens slightly, staring at the two. Viktor Krum was a legend himself, just recently coming out of the Quidditch World Cup. You honestly didn’t realize how young he was. There are whispers and gasps echoing throughout the room. But, you’re not focused on him. 

Igor Kararoff was known for all the wrong reasons. You’ve heard his name whisper throughout your household for a few months now. Doing some research during the first few months back at school, you’ve learned his history. He was a Death Eater, being one of the ones who were sent to Azkaban. He was only pardoned because he gave up the names of his fellow Death Eaters. Maybe he was a changed man, but with the attack that just happened, you were still a bit nervous that he was here.

“Oi, looks like (Y/N) has her eye on someone.” Alfred points out causing the guys around you to sound off while the girls go straight to whispering. Cedric just laughs and shakes his head at his friends, the idea humoring him. “Malfoy and Krum, an interesting pair that would be.” He continues, you roll your eyes at their assumptions.

Switching your focus from the performance, you look past them to the Gryffindor table once again. Ron had a starstruck expression on her face while Hermione had a glare, you were glad to see she recognized the former Deatheater as well. Scanning further, a particular redhead duo catches your eye.

The twins were in deep conversation, Fred gesturing adamantly as George hung his head in defeat. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering what they were talking about to make George so uncharacteristically shy. He then raises his chin slightly, making eye contact with you and panicking. He quickly hits his brother on the shoulder before gesturing towards you. Fred turns and smirks, saying something to him before sending you a goofy wave and forcing George to send one too. It causing you to let out a giggle before smiling back at them.

Cedric watches the whole thing, noticing the small blush that comes onto your face when you made eye contact with the taller ginger. He shakes his head fondly at you, “I’m sure you already have eyes on someone particular.” He slyly comments and nods his head toward the said person. 

A small smile appears on your face as you shake your head at him. Cedric knew of your crush on George and loved to tease you about it. He was the first to figure it out and the first to point out anything remotely flirtatious that went on between the two of you. He was a cheerleader for the complicated relationship you had with the ginger, supporting your continuous breakdowns about him over the years.

And, oh, were there many.

Without realizing it, you were absently staring right at George as you thought about the time you realized you had a crush on him. It was back in fourth year, Fred and Lee had disappeared in the crowd on the way to Hogsmeade so it left the two of you alone. You spent the whole day together, laughing and having fun. You didn’t even remember your two friends who abandoned you in the first place.

When you came back tothe dorms, you found Cedric sitting in the common room with a muggle book in his lap. He chuckled as you nervously blurted out your newly discovered feelings about the ginger, relieved that you finally figured it out.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, looking back on the fond memory. George turns his head and makes eye contact with you once again. You share a dumb smile before he sends a wink your way. Cedric lets out a booming laugh when you start getting flustered. Your face flames up and you turn away, mumbling stuff under your breath about how unfair it was to be that attractive.

Cedric sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly. You let out an exasperated sigh and fall into his chest, “He’s going to be the death of me, Cedi.”

“I’m sure you’ll die happy then.”

=====

The castle already felt overcrowded with the extra bodies and they haven’t even been there for twelve hours; the rush back to the dorms after the announcement last night was ridiculous. You almost got trampled over three different Durmstrang hoards. You weren’t as lucky as Collin Creevey, poor boy got crushed by a sea of Beauxbeatons girls.

The great hall was surprisingly empty for having the additional schools being there. Most people were either showing their new friends around, sleeping in, or waiting around the cup to see who has the bravery to put their name in. It was nice to have a break from the chaos that occurred in such a short amount of time.

The twins immediately spot you once you walk through the doors of the Great Hall as if they’ve been waiting for you all morning. They wave you over, the mischievous smiles on their faces make you want to turn around and pretend you never came down here.

The boys separate and make room for you on the bench, allowing you to sit in your unspoken designated spot between the two. “Good morning, boys.” You mumble a greeting before reaching for a pancake.

“Mornin’.”

“Well, don’t you look rather ravishing today?” Fred compliments once you're settled with a plate full of food. “Doesn’t she, George?”

“I’ve never been graced with anyone more beautiful in my presence.” He dreamily says, gently pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You freeze in confusion, the dry pancake hanging out of your mouth as their words process in your tired brain. Ravishing? You were still in your pajama pants and sweatshirt that you were certain was your brother’s. Beautiful? Your hair was in disarray, more strands were out of your ponytail than in it by this point.

This wasn’t out of character for George, but Fred? You couldn’t recall the last time he complimented a sweater you wore. Realization washes over you when you put the two together...

“What do you two gits want?” You spit out and going back to your food. Fred lets out his infamous offended scoff, pressing a hand to his chest which makes you roll your eyes. You stab at the breakfast at your plate as you wait for them to answer. They silently communicate over your head, sending each other looks and mouthing words. “Just let it out, will ya.”

“So, we’ve been thinking--”

“--That’s never good--” You immediately quip while looking over the rim of your cup, hiding the smile that appears when Fred rolls his eyes.

“We, the brave and daring Gryffindors we are, would like to enter the Triwizard tournament.” The older ginger announces and you to choke on the pumpkin juice. “So, we are trying to make an age potion. We have the base of the potion but we are having trouble with the rest.” He pulls out a muggle notebook and a pencil, a list of the ingredients and directions ripped out of a book taped to it. “So, we need your expertise.”

“Are you guys mental?” You immediately scold, an onslaught of worrying thoughts flooding your brain. “There is no reason for the two of you to put your name in that cup. You would be risking your lives for what? Get your name out there? People already know the people behind the outrageous pranks.”

Fred opens his mouth to defend himself but is cut off by you continuing your ranting. You were absolutely fuming at them. How could they put themselves in danger like this? People knew who they were and they shouldn’t risk their lives for a dumb prize. “You guys aren’t even old enough to put your name in the cup, why do you think you could win it if you even got in the damn thing?”

“And Cedric can?” Fred dares to challenge you. The grip on your cup tightens at the mention of Cedric planning to put his name in the cup. You honestly didn’t want him to but you knew if he got picked he would kick ass. He’s excelled at all his classes and he has shown how talented he can be. Cedric wanted to volunteer for the challenge, not the rewards.

“Cedric has been at the top of our class since first year. He’s proven himself worthy on many occasions and has the mental capacity to handle the challenges they put him through. You two are not Cedric.” You simply state, voice scarily steady. It’s not that you didn’t think they had the skill to survive, it’s just that you were scared to lose them. Yea, you were scared to lose Cedric as well, but you knew his passion would perceive above all. “What do you guys even want to be in it for?”

“The money.” Fred instantly answers, you let out a scoff. You knew their dreams of opening a joke shop but risking their lives when there was an easier way to do that was not the way to go.

“You guys are so stupid.” You shake your head and get up out of your seat. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room in fear that you would snap and say something you would regret later. “I can’t believe you two would risk your lives for a little bit of cash.”

“We don’t have money as you do, Malfoy, so I don’t even want to hear it.” Fred has the audacity to continue the argument as George stares down at his food. “Some of us have to work harder to afford what we want.”

You physically flinch at his direct insult to your family. It takes you back to the time your first year when the feud between the three of you was at its peak. It made your blood boil, “Well, Weasley, don’t come crying back to me when you’re on your deathbed because you use the last two of your combined brain cells to enter yourself in the most dangerous competition in Wizarding history.” And with that, you turn on your heel and storm down the aisle. A few people’s heads turn your way but you don’t pay mind to them. It was a matter of life or death when it came to the Tri-Wizard tournament and those two numb skulls didn’t see the severity of it.

[crow-hoards-things]

The Bad Batch Series Finale

FULL DISCLOSURE: This is a vent post. I’m angry and hurt. After I get this out of my system I’ll be more open to discussing the positives of the episode.

Warnings: Ranting, Spoilers

Hooo boy. Okay. I am… less than satisfied?

Quick rundown since I haven’t posted much of anything Bad Batch related: Tech is my favorite Batch member, immediately followed by Crosshair. I’m also a HUGE Republic Commando Nerd (read all the books, played the game, despised Bad Batch as a whole initially because I felt the commandos were being unfairly ignored, can sing + translate Vode An, etc.) and Scorch was my favorite Delta. The Bad Batch grew on me shortly after Season 1 finished up, and I immediately latched onto Tech when I began watching. He’s the reason I watched the first two seasons. (Crosshair + delusions about Tech were the combined force behind watching the final season)

NOW, onto my actual thoughts on the episode, in no semblance of order because my brain is still trying to process, Ft. Cry count:

• Wish Tech was here. He would’ve loved the Zillo being freed.

• “‘Cause I’d do the same thing” no you wouldn’t. Fives would’ve. The you I fell in love with would’ve yelled at Fives about it being a terrible idea and then promptly gone along with it anyway. That said it was a really cute moment and I loved his nonchalant little “come on” afterwards.

• C: “Echo or Omega?” W&H: “Omega” THEY KNOW THEIR GIRL SO WELL

• When Hemlock went to get the operatives I got excited thinking maybe, just maybe we’d get Tech back.

• CROSSHAIR LOST HIS FREAKING HAND!?!? WHAT THE HECK!?! I will never stop being salty about this. He’s been through enough. [Near Tears]

• Rampart sucks

• Nala Se got to blow stuff up and I appreciate that even if I don’t really like her

• I’m glad Wrecker’s okay. He had me scared for a bit. Hunter, conversely, never really did? He’s Omega’s Dad, he had to survive.

• Did anybody else see that one operative whose helmet seemingly had goggles built into it? We had a lingering shot on his helmet for a few seconds and they looked like a red version of Tech’s goggles.

• SCORCH IS DEAD AND YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE I’M MAD ABOUT IT! [First shedding of tears]

• HECK YEAH, HEMLOCK IS DEAD!!! [Tears of relief combined with grief over Scorch]

• I’m so glad Omega hugged Crosshair first. I fully expected her to just run to Hunter, and Crosshair needed that hug.

• Echo’s goodbye was disrespectful. 0/10. He’s family and they don’t even care that he’s leaving???

• SOMEONE IS MISSING FROM OUR NICE LITTLE GROUP SHOT!

• I never really got super invested in the dynamic between Omega and Hunter, but the ending between them was cute I guess.

• We were robbed. We could’ve gotten Crosshair and Wrecker as old men and we were robbed.

• Tech is dead. Like, seriously, really and truly, dead. As a delusional “Tech’s alive guys, trust me” fan, it feels like he just died all over again. I’ll talk more about this later because I’m not over it. [Que sob-fest]

alright, circling back around to my main gripes, in order of appearance:

#1. Scorch.

I hate how they handled him. At first when he showed up I got super excited. That was my boy! In the Bad Batch show!! He’s making an appearance!!! Maybe they’ll do something with the Delta boys!!

Even as the episodes went on and I started to suspect where his path was leading, I consistently would go “Scorch!!! <3” every episode, because that is my boy and I love him dearly.

The levels of offended I am on Scorch’s behalf are not within my ability to express with words. The complete and utter disrespect he was shown over his time on the show is appalling. Why bring him in if you’re going to drain him of all his personality, make him have zero plot relevance, and then murder him?! They could easily have made a new clone for that, as seen by the number of operatives who exist and got 0.5 minutes of screen time.

But no. They brought in a beloved character with 10 seconds of canonical screen time prior, stripped him of everything that made him lovable, didn’t even have him DO ANYTHING, and then murdered him. It feels like a spit in the face and a kick to the gut all at once.

I will mourn. I’ve already cried and I’ll probably cry again. But right now I’m angry and I think Scorch deserves to have people be angry about how he was treated.

#2. Tech

Yes. I admit to having been a “trust me guys, Tech’s alive” person. I will also admit that at the end of episode 13 I wanted him to stay dead because I had zero faith they could satisfactorily bring him back.

My gripe is not with him staying dead. Yes, it feels like losing him all over again. Yes, I will mourn him again. Yes. That sucks. It’s not what’s making me mad.

What makes me mad is how his death was handled.

• It served ZERO purpose narratively other than to up the stakes and make us worry about whether anyone else would die (Spoiler alert: They didn’t. Tech was the only one who died) • Nobody mourned him. No one seemed affected by his death at all. No one cared. I don’t care what anyone says, that will NEVER be okay. • The first actual mention of Tech *dying* was in the finale. Sure, we’ve had name drops and goggle appearances, but actually talking about what happened? One line. One. Freaking. Line.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face, you know? He deserved better and so did we. He was a part of that family and they couldn’t even be bothered to address the responses to his death. He was beloved by many of us and they couldn’t even respect him or his fans enough to treat his death like something to be mourned.

That’s wrong, no matter how you look at it.

[coyotelip]

jegulus microfic: important || canon compliant, angst || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 920

“Do you really think you're important enough to shamelessly raise your voice when nobody asked?” Lucius's voice is muffled and sounds like a snake's hiss. 

Regulus can understand him, can see in his raised eyebrows and tense lips how unhappy Lucius is that he's not his master's pet today. That he wasn't the first to offer his help at the Dark Lord's request and didn't get his usual praise. 

The thought of Malfoy's precious ego being hurt pleases Regulus, but his words continue to echo in his subconscious throughout the rest of the day. 

“Do you think you're important?” It depends. Did he think he was important to their dark cause, did he make a contribution to this war? A year earlier, Regulus would have said yes, intoxicated by the feeling of freedom and power. Just come of age, listened to his father's eloquent speeches about the noble future of their family, which now rested on Regulus' shoulders, and having the inspiration to prove himself, the boy believed he was only a step away from success. 

But the bitter truth was that with each passing day, with each meeting of their dark gang, Regulus saw more and more clearly how insignificant he was in the bigger picture. The gazes of his fellow deatheaters turned from curious to bored and didn't even linger on him, as if they didn't even recognize his presence. You can't make yourself important here by being smart enough and sharing the Dark Lord's views. No, what makes you important is your unquestioning service, your willingness to throw yourself into the heat of battle.

“Oh, they certainly think it's important, but to you? What's important to you personally, Reg?” a familiar voice comes to mind. 

The library is empty at this late hour, which pleases Regulus. He knew that sooner or later he wouldn't be able to hide from James Potter any longer, he was too stubborn to be satisfied with a simple farewell note, which Regulus had used to try to end whatever it was between them. 

“You don't understand, Potter.” Regulus is trying to end this pointless conversation and get back to the dormitory as soon as possible.

“Oh, so we're on those terms now? Potter?” his voice was filled with irritation, along with concern. “I don't need to understand the whole situation with those crazy psychopaths and their speeches they're forcing on you. I only need to understand you, and I understand you. You need to have at least some good reason, at least something that is dear enough to you to make this decision. No one is going to join the obviously losing side of a war just because of their parents' imposed views, Reggie.” 

The now familiar nickname threatens to shake the steadiness inside Regulus that he has been building up so diligently over the past few weeks, weighing the pros and cons. Holding himself together, Regulus swallows before answering. 

“You're an idiot to declare victory in a war that hasn't even begun.” 

James takes a step closer to him, and inside Regulus struggles with the urge to either back away or close the distance between them and remind himself one last time how his arms feels. He does not move. 

“I admit, I may be an idiot, but only because you've always been smarter than me. Smarter enough to realize that it's foolish to express support for him now, when he's gaining strength. You are important, Regulus, your name is important, and if you speak out against him, it will weaken his authority. You can do it, you can change something!” 

James gestures expressively with his hands during this impassioned speech, taking another step toward him. As if by getting closer he has a better chance of convincing the guy. 

Regulus wants to respond sharply, wants to make James understand that it doesn't matter what's important to him, only what's right for his family. They rely on him, on the rightful heir, he really is important to them, and Regulus desperately clings to that feeling.

But the words are stuck in his throat under the stubborn gaze of the big brown eyes so close. Regulus presses his lips together and closes his eyes, trying to ground himself again, to find his inner strength and hold on to his own. But the feeling of warm fingers on his cheeks knocks the air out of his chest. 

“You're too important to me and I can't lose you like this, Reg, please.” 

The lump in Regulus's throat grows bigger at the desperation in James's voice, but he only squeezes his eyes shut, forbidding himself to look because he knows he can't take it. The pleading in James's eyes would make him want to drop everything and run away with him anywhere, but he can't do that. 

He continues to keep his eyes closed and remain silent, not letting himself melt at the feeling of the warm palms now holding his face. And his silence is all the answers James needed. 

Sighing heavily, he presses his lips to Regulus' warm forehead one last time, leaving him alone to pull himself together. 

Regulus takes a few moments to pull himself together after Lucius leaves. His fingers cling to the gold ring with the bright ruby, twisting it nervously as the words he heard long ago echo in his mind: 

“You are important, Regulus. You can do it, you can change something!” 

It is only when he is on the very edge that Regulus finally finds faith in these words. 

[starqueensthings]

So I’ve been stewing on this…

(It’s really long because I have no control over my feelings 🙃)

Echo has always shouldered the roll of “rally man” for the emerging rebellion. At first, I thought it was simply because he had only ever known life as a solider, and operating as a paid mercenary for a stranger with increasingly questionable ideals (Cid), just didn’t sit right with him. A conversation between him and Hunter on Bracca reinforced that theory: 👇🏼

Then I wondered if it was maybe just deeply engrained loyalty, and an intense devotion to his former captain that fuelled his desire to join the cause. After all, Rex was the one that put the plan in place to rescue him from the Techno Union. Maybe he felt as if he owed his captain a ‘life-debt’ of sorts. It’s even possible, when he was first rescued, that he felt the same sort of debt towards the Bad Batch, and that may have been a driving factor in his decision to go with them.

But then there was this: 👇🏼

And suddenly, my previous theory didn’t seem accurate. His continued pleads, each time eliciting a larger and larger emotional response from him: 👇🏼

It no longer seemed like simple devout loyalty to his captain that was fuelling his desperation. It seemed deeper than that, as if there was a deeply emotional, yet unspoken reason why his top priority had shifted to helping the rebellion. And it was a strong enough pull for him to upheave himself from the comfort of the squad that had whole-heartedly accepted him. Enough to send him into the clutches of unknown imminent danger, with few allies and fewer resources. And then we got this: 👇🏼

This exchange could easily just be rolled off the shoulders, and it rolled off of mine the first time I saw it. But there was something about Hunter’s comment about “being enough” that sat kinda odd in me, and I started to wonder. Maybe Echo’s persistent urge to aid in the bigger cause had nothing to do with loyalty to Freedom, his captain, or his brothers… Maybe it had everything to do with guilt. Maybe he struggles to get through his days, thinking about all the brothers had been forced to betray while his mind was under the control of the Techno Union. Maybe the weight of knowing how many brothers were lost on his account, rendered him completely submerged in shame, and this is how he was trying to make up for it.

And then I remembered Hunter saying to him when he left: “Wherever you end up, remember what I said.” Had Echo had conversations with his Sergeant about his feelings before? Had Hunter tried numerous times in the past to rid the ARC of the guilt that he walked around with on his shoulders?

[salemshotspot]

USE YOUR WORDS

Drew McIntyre x CM Punk

Song Fic

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

DESC: Punk helps Drew use his words after a night Drew would rather forget

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ MDNI//Swearing//Not Proof Read//Alcohol Mentions//Implied Mentions Of Being Drunk//Simultaneously Hate And Sympathy Fucking//Characters Acting Out Of Character//Hints Of Using Sex As A Coping Mechanism//Implied Self-Worth Issues//Angst If You Squint//Dog Collar And Chain//Implication Of Collaring As Ownership//Choking Via Collar And Chain//Generic Pet Names//Praise//Is It Still Cock Warming If It's In The Mouth//Leg Humping//One Case Of Slight Degrading//Oral//Slight Hint At Overstimulation

RED >> Song Lyrics

A/N >> This is set during 2024 Clast At The Castle and some of the song lyrics are changed ever so slightly to make grammatical sense :)

TAGS: @jobikinn [ik you wanted to be tagged in the upcoming punkintyre fic but I tagged you here too, lmk if you don't want to be tagged in other upcoming punkintrye fics :)]

Enjoy!

————————————————————————

Drew's heart raced as he finally pinned Damien and after fifteen long seconds passed a referee raced towards the ring and began counting Drew's pin, 'this is it' Drew thought, unable to contain his excitement. Drew was pulled from his excitement as the referee's hand hitting the ring didn't echo through his ears for a third and final time.

As Drew's head darted towards the referee his eyes widened in shock, his eyes must be playing a trick on him, he blinked quickly in an attempt to refocus his eyes but no matter how much he blinked the figure in front of him wouldn't change. It was Phil Brooks; it was the one man he couldn't bring himself to admit he didn't completely despise; CM Punk.

Blinded by his rage as Phil begins to taunt him, Drew took his focus from Damien and backed Phil into the corner of the ring, wrapping his large hand around Phil's neck, causing the man's mouth to contort into a triumph smirk. As Drew's hand tightens around Phil's neck, Phil kicked Drew as hard as he could between his legs, running out of the ring as a real referee made his way back to the ring. Consumed by pain and anger, Drew didn't notice as Damien threw himself over him, he didn't notice as the referee began to count, he didn't even fully notice he had just lost the title again, all he was focused on was getting out of the ring and finding Phil.

As Drew was making his way backstage he locked eyes with Paul 'Triple H' Levesque and to say Drew was angry would've been an offensive understatement. Before he could even form a single thought Drew was practically running towards the older man. 'What the fuck was that' Drew bellowed as he wasn't told Phil was going to be there, let alone be told he was going to once again ruin his chance at the title he knew that, more than anyone else in the company, he deserved. In an attempt to both calm and contain the situation Paul suggested that they continue the conversation in his office to which Drew reluctantly agreed.

'Seriously Paul what is going on?' Drew once again questioned, eliciting a small sigh from Paul who answered in a tired voice; 'it's nothing personal Drew-' he began. Before he could continue Drew cut him off angrily; 'nothing personal?' he mocked before continuing in disbelief, 'Paul this isn't the first time you've arranged for that smug bastard to cheat me out of a title, how is this not personal.' Still attempting to keep the situation calm Paul took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to Drew; 'the fans absolutely love what you and Phil have going on at the moment, it was simply a wise business move to have him come in and ruin your chance at the title again.' Drew couldn't believe what he was hearing, yes he understood that it was a 'wise business move' to have this happen but he couldn't get over the fact he wasn't consulted about this, it was like no one cared about him as a person, they merely saw him as a pawn in this whole thing. Unable to mask his frustrations, tears began to pool in Drew's eyes due to the intense anger he was feeling; before Paul could say anything Drew muttered loudly, 'fuck this company' before storming out of the office.

The thought of finding Phil no longer fuelled the fire within Drew, all he wanted to do now was get drunk enough to forget this entire thing, to forget the entire company; without a second thought Drew left the arena and headed to a nearby pub, the one good thing about being humiliated in his home country is he knew the places where he could drown his sorrows like the back of his hand.

As the hours slowly ticked by Drew couldn't help but delve into his subconscious thoughts, his thoughts that were only ever coaxed out by the manipulative aid of alcohol. Drew's hatred for Phil was something that was always exaggerated in the ring, their relationship outside of the ring was something much more complex. There was something beautifully tragic about the way their souls were intertwined; it was almost as if to exist without each other would be to live the life of an irreligious martyr but to exist together would condemn them to a glorious demise in the name of self-destruction.

As Drew continued to both resent and find comfort in the way his very being ached for the same man that made him angry enough to be so irrational, the very man his mind was fixated in rushed into the pub; a subtle worry hidden behind his unwavering expression. As he made his way over to Drew, Drew stood up to leave, causing Phil to raise an eyebrow at him and encouraging him to stop being so stubborn and to sit back down to which Drew reluctantly complied knowing he was probably too drunk to safely make his way out of the pub in this state.

Once both men had sat down there was a brief moment of agonising silence before Phil broke the silence; 'I never had you down as a sore loser' he attempted to joke to lighten the mood to no one's amusement but his own. Letting out a long, defeated sigh Drew replied in what was barely a whisper; 'Don't Phil' he briefly paused 'Not today, any day but today.' Phil frowned, he's never seen Drew so defeated, so miserable, no matter what happened there was always a soft glint in his eye, a glint which was determined to prove to the world that it hasn't defeated him; but now that glint Phil loved to see was gone, drowning in a pool of alcohol and although he would never admit it, seeing Drew like this terrified Phil. 'Come on it can't be that bad' Phil insisted to which Drew scoffed, taking another large sip of his beer, 'Not that bad?' He practically shouted, 'that entire company sees me as a joke and you think it's not that bad' Drew spat out as he attempted to stop tears forming in his eyes before lowering his voice; 'you know they didn't even tell me you were coming out tonight?' He sadly muttered.

Phil didn't know what to say so he did the only thing he could do in this moment of vulnerability which he wasn't used to being allowed to see from anyone, especially Drew, he never thought Drew would trust him enough to let him see him like this; 'I'm sorry' Phil said softly, his words causing Drew's head to instinctively turn towards him, it wasn't every day Drew heard that from Phil, 'I didn't know no one had told you.'

There was something about Phil's simple words that in Drew's drunken state made him feel heard, that made him feel like for the first time in a painfully long time somebody valued him enough to believe he was a person worthy of hearing. 'You've always been good with your words' Drew began 'do you remember that time we were running through a promo a while ago and I kept messing up?' Phil hummed in curious agreement as Drew continued, 'you said I'm no good with words' he let out a self-deprecating laugh 'well I'm worse with them now.' Phil confirmed he remembered the interaction and prompted him to continue speaking, 'you know I tried to talk to Paul earlier and I ended up just crying at him' Drew confessed.

Phil noticed Drew was steadily spiralling the more he drank, leading to Phil offering to take Drew home before he declined further and luckily for both of the men Drew almost immediately agreed. Phil was deceitfully strong causing him to be able to pull Drew up and carry him to his car with ease.

Once Phil neared Drew's house he noticed Drew begin to grow restless; 'are you ok?' Phil asked; Drew wanted nothing more than to ask Phil to stay the night because as much as he, at least on some level, hated Phil, he hated himself so much more. Although Drew was screaming at himself to just speak his mind was suddenly weighed down with words that felt too overdramatic to ever speak to anybody, especially not Phil. Drew sighed, thinking to himself 'tonight can't get much worse' before weakly asking Phil to not leave him alone tonight.

Phil couldn't help but smirk as he helped him into his house, jokingly teasing Drew; 'I've barely stuttered out a joke of a romantic and you want to be stuck to my tongue.' Drew rolled his eyes instantly regretting saying anything, 'oh please Punk' Drew teased 'you couldn't be romantic if you tried' he declared with a light chuckle.

Now inside the house Phil corned Drew, backing him against a wall immediately matching the Scottish man's attitude; 'oh yeah McIntyre? Well no one should ever feel like the greatest man in the world can't be romantic.' The physical closeness of the two men made Drew blush as he felt Phil's breath move towards his ear as he whispered 'and if you're as bad with your words as you're saying I'll definitely be staying because I don't want to forget how your voice sounds.'

Drew tried to think of a smart response but he came up short, unable to say anything, to which Phil responded; 'well that settles it I'm staying, my words are clearly all that you have so you'll need them just to get by.' Drew couldn't stop his mouth contorting into a smile as Phil said he'd stay, deep down Drew knew if he was sober he wouldn't have wanted Phil to stay but he also knew that no matter what he thought about Phil he was the only person who could make him forget every thought that was determined to destroy him.

Phil smirked as Drew smiled, his dark eyes seemingly filling with warmth, suddenly an idea crept into Phil's mind. Gently cupping Drew's face in his hand Phil softly spoke; 'wait here' he requested as he quickly went back to his car. Over the weekend Phil had a photoshoot commemorating the two year anniversary of his AEW dog collar match with MJF meaning that he happened to still have his collar and chain he wore in the back of his car. Phil grabbed the cool leather collar and pulled it close to him, the chain rattling as it was yanked upwards, before heading back to Drew.

As Phil re-entered the house, dog collar in hand and devilish smile plastered across his face, Drew's eyes widened at the sight of the collar; 'you're crazy if you think that's going anywhere near me' Drew quickly spoke. Without missing a beat Phil replied with a mocking smirk; 'now now' he began sarcastically, 'you said you're getting worse with your words so I'm going to help you.' While unclasping the dog collar, reaching his arms around Drew's neck he whispered almost compassionately; 'it's the least I can do after tonight.'

As Phil fitted the collar around Drew's throat he couldn't help the way his cock began to strain against his pants as his eyes examined the way his collar tightly hugged the taller man's throat. Phil could barely contain himself, he'd always secretly fantasied about Drew in his collar but he never imagined he would look this good; the way the leather clung to his throat, ever so slightly too small for the man, not enough to choke him but enough to make its presence known, the way Drew's eyes widen as Phil wrapped the chain of the collar around his hand practically terrified to let go; Phil never thought Drew would look this good at his mercy.

Drew's voice pulled both men's attention back to the room; 'what exactly are you going to do?' Drew questioned with a hint of curious anxiety lacing his voice to which Phil let out a chuckle and replied in a teasing manner, 'I put a collar around that throat of yours and you lose your hearing?' As Drew pouted and lowered his head Phil gently tightened his grip on the chain and raised it upwards, causing Drew's head to involuntarily lift as the two men's eyes met; 'I said I'm going to help you with your words McIntyre' Phil repeated in a more dominant tone.

Drew was practically falling apart at the sound of Phil's voice; he knew deep down it wasn't healthy to crave Phil's touch whenever he felt down but the hatred he felt for the man was quickly outshone the second he felt Phil's eyes grow both lustful and full of pity; although he hated himself for craving Phil, he knew this was the life he loved to lead.

Phil effortlessly pulled on the chain in his hand leading Drew to the living room and seated himself on the couch. As Drew attempted to sit next to Phil, Phil placed his hand on Drew's chest and gently but firmly pushed him down, causing Drew to end up kneeling on the floor in front of the man who had an increasingly smug look painting his face.

Looking down at the man kneeling before him Phil couldn't help but smile as he ran his slender fingers through the man's black locks before speaking in a voice which Drew was desperate enough to perceive as loving; 'good boy' he mocked as he saw how willing Drew was to bend to his will. Drew wanted to roll his eyes, he wanted to tell Phil how much he hated him, he wanted to do anything, but he couldn't, all he could do was softly whimper as the praise falling from Phil's mouth caused Drew's cock to lightly twitch.

Embarrassed by his reaction to Phil's words, Drew muttered out; 'asshole' which caused Phil to laugh as he responded, 'come on now' he began, 'there's no need to be so miserable' he joked. Drew let out a quiet laugh that was heard by himself and only himself, if he was miserable like Phil joked, he wished more than anything that he could let go of his pride and hatred to let Phil know how misery loved him.

Noticing the way Drew was fidgeting in place as his cock was throbbing against the fabric of his pants, Phil decided that now was the perfect opportunity to start his attempt to help Drew with his words. Refusing to break eye contact with the man, Phil slowly unzipped his pants and slightly raised his hips momentarily to pull them down, slowly pulling his cock from his boxers as his pants fell around his ankles. As Phil pulled himself from his pants he slowly wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly pumping himself in his hand as his cock swiftly hardened.

As Phil's eyes alternated between slowly fluttering closed and reopening to reveal his glossed over eyes he noticed Drew's eyes fixated on his ever growing member as he instinctively gulped realising Phil's cock was in arms reach. As he reached out to wrap his hands around Phil, Phil gently swatted his hand away causing Drew to avert his eyes in shame; gently grabbing his chin Phil tilted Drew's head to look up at him before he spoke, 'use your words baby' he cooed.

Drew couldn't help but blush as he was filled with a sense of embarrassment and excitement; in any normal circumstance he would despise the smug look on the older man's face, he would stand up and walk away from Phil, vowing to never even look at the man again but this wasn't a normal circumstance; all Drew could think about was how much he needed to feel Phil, he needed to be as close to him as he could, he needed nothing more than the man he despised to make him complete. Swallowing his pride Drew begrudgingly mumbled 'I want to feel you.'

Refusing to break eye contact as he continued to pump himself into his hand Phil let out a low chuckle and teasingly spoke; 'I can't hear you' to which Drew repeated his words ever so slightly louder. Loudly tutting, Phil grabbed Drew's chin with his spare hand; 'this is worse than I thought' he began 'you're lucky I found you when I did, you need so much more help than I thought.' With a smug look on his face, Phil let the word 'open' fall from his lips. Drew silently followed Phil's command causing Phil to warmly mutter 'good' as he slowly slid himself into Drew's welcoming mouth.

As Phil continued to insert himself into Drew's mouth, Drew grasped at Phil's legs as his cock reached the back of his throat, obstructing his breathing. As Phil heard Drew gag as he grabbed at his legs he softly comforted the man; 'shh baby, breathe through your nose.' Once Phil was fully inserted into Drew he hummed in approval before pulling on Drew's chain to ensure he had his full attention. As Drew let out a soft gag as Phil pulled on his chain, Phil's voice lowered; 'now McIntyre I need you to listen' he uttered as Drew nodded slightly, 'you're going to learn how to use your words, lets start with a simple mouth exercise' Phil said unable to hold back a smirk, 'be good for me and keep that pretty mouth perfectly still.'

Drew had to use every ounce of self control he had festering inside of him to stop himself from desperately sucking on Phil's cock like a man starved of any and all sustenance. The feeling of Phil on his tongue was enough to make Drew's cock fully harden between his legs, all self control leaving him in an instant. With his voice muffled by Phil on his tongue Drew whined out the word 'leg', desperate to feel any kind of friction against his painfully hard member. Pride flushed Phil's face at the sight of Drew completely falling apart at his feet, pulling on Drew's chain, gently choking the man, Phil spoke with feigned compassion; 'full sentences baby.' Drew once again attempted to once again plead with Phil to permit him to use his leg for a brief second of friction, however Phil couldn't fully understand the words escaping Drew's mouth so he slowly pulled himself from Drew, both frowning at the loss of contact.

'Please' Drew whined, 'I need you', he blushed 'I need you to make me feel good.' There was something about Drew completely undone that Phil couldn't get enough of, pulling Drew up by his chain hard enough to have Drew leaning over his lap, Phil seductively whispered; 'well I have always been one for positive reinforcement and since you asked so nicely', he gently pushed Drew back to the floor, 'of course you can use my leg to get off like a dumb little mutt' Phil harshly teased. Completely overcome by his desire to ease the pain between his legs, Drew completely ignored the way Phil revelled in his degradation and eagerly attached himself to the man's legs, gaining a soft chuckle from Phil.

As Drew slowly started to grind against Phil's leg he couldn't stop himself from whimpering as both his speed and desperation grew. 'You look so pretty like this' Phil declared as he sunk into the sofa in order to get a better view of Drew rutting against him. The sound of Phil's voice alone was almost enough to push Drew over the edge and he knew it; Hiding his blushing features in the seated man's leg Drew whined out in a desperate tone, 'going to' his words trailed off.

Phil knew exactly what Drew meant but he was going to hear the man say it even if it killed him; abruptly sitting upwards in order to get a better grip on the chain he was holding, he pulled Drew to his feet, eliciting an upset whine from the collared man. 'Now why don't you show me a little bit of spine you've been saving for your mattress' Phil mockingly questioned as he pulled on Drew's chain, lightly choking him as his face edged closer to Phil's.

Deep down Drew couldn't ignore the debilitating feeling that Phil was only doing all of this out of pity but right now all Drew needed was sympathy from Phil and he didn't care how real it was. Practically pleading, Drew looked down at Phil, uttering the words, 'I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.' As Drew spoke Phil couldn't help but notice a sadness in the man's eyes; he knew Drew needed this.

Showing what felt like the first ounce of genuine kindness Drew had received in a long time Phil gently rubbed the man's face before gently leading him upstairs to Drew's bedroom, signalling for the chained man to sit on the bed. Once Drew had sat down at the top of the bed Phil, for the first time all evening, let the chain fall from his hand before slowly crawling towards Drew from the foot of the bed. Once he had crawled to Drew, situating himself between Drew's legs, Phil leant forward to place a gentle kiss on the man's lips. Without saying a word Phil unzipped Drew's pants, softly pulling the man's painfully throbbing cock from his pants. Drew was growing desperate, he had been so close to spilling over for what felt like hours; 'please' he began to plead 'please make it feel better' he whined, causing Phil to slowly wrap both of his hands around Drew's member. Before Drew could react to the sensation of Phil's cold hands making contact with his hot member Phil was already gracefully wrapping his mouth around the cock in his hands.

Phil easily started sliding Drew in and out of his mouth, eliciting a string of 'oh fuck' and 'yes' to fall from Drew's mouth. After mere seconds of Phil feeling pleased with the sounds falling from Drew's lips Drew balled his hands into fists as he practically moaned out; 'Phil I'm going to cum.' Drew's needy, desperate tone was addictive to Phil, he could tell the extent of the stimulation Drew was feeling was becoming too much for the man so, instinctively, Phil soothingly rubbed Drew's thigh.

This simple touch was enough to finally push Drew over the edge; as he finally climaxed Drew choked out a moan as his back involuntarily arched, as his orgasm washed over him, Drew desperately grabbed for Phil's hand to help him through a painfully enjoyable orgasm.

Phil easily swallowed the seed Drew released into his mouth as he felt Drew grab at his hand like it was his lifeline, intertwining his fingers with Drew's, Phil slid Drew out of his mouth using his free hand to wipe his mouth, never even trying to remove his hand from Drew's.

'See how good it feels when you use your words' Phil proudly teased; Drew wanted to reply in an equally sarcastic manner but before he could he was overcome with a tired feeling, his mouth letting out a content yawn. Phil smiled and lightly teased; 'is someone tired out?' As he went to get up to leave Drew to sleep, Drew tightened his grip causing Phil to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

Drew's heavy eyes glanced down to Phil's pants, the hardness of his cock painfully evident; 'what about you?' Drew muttered, causing Phil to chuckle, 'well aren't you just the sweetest when you're all fucked out?' Phil cockily praised him before kneeling down to Drew's eye level; 'don't you worry about me McIntyre, get some rest.'

It was in rare moments like this that the hatred both men held in their hearts melted away which was partly why Phil was so adamant on leaving; there was a part of him buried deep down that couldn't put himself through waking up tomorrow to Drew's face contorted in disgust as he remembers what had just happened, he couldn't put himself through the both of them swearing that this was the last time they'd ever cross paths.

As Phil reached the bedroom door he heard what he swore were tears threatening to choke Drew where he lay as the half asleep man quietly spoke; 'please don't leave me tonight' he choked out, causing Phil to freeze in place. Phil sighed quietly to himself knowing no matter what he did he'd be sure to regret it. Looking over at Drew, Phil couldn't help but notice how broken he looked, he couldn't leave him, not like this. Forcing a smile onto his face Phil, softly uttered an 'ok' as he walked over to the bed to Drew's internal relief. As Phil crawled onto the bed and got himself comfortable he opened his arms for Drew to wrap himself in; he always felt so safe wrapped in Phil's arms. Before Drew fell asleep he pulled at the collar on his neck in an attempt to remove it, however before he could do so Phil grabbed his hand and moved it away from his throat, whispering into Drew's ear 'I'll remove your chain but not the collar, you'll need a reminder in the morning exactly who you belong to.'

Phil removed Drew's chain, gently tossing it to the ground before placing a soft kiss on Drew's head as he fell into the first good sleep he's had in a long time; hopefully one day things will be different, hopefully one day the two men can bring themselves to commit to each other in the way they both know they need to.

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A/N >> I'm sorry this took so long to get out IDK HOW THIS GOT SO LONG AND IM SO SORRY ITS AWFUL, drop writing requests in my inbox :)

[thewritergremlin-rae]

Not Your Place

Pairing: Loki x Mutant!Fem!Reader Characters: Renslayer, Mobius, Classic!Loki, Alligator!Loki Rating: M Words: 1,848 Content: 2nd person, TVA, Post(ish)-Avengers: Infinity War, Suicidal Thoughts, Attempted Suicide (Non-graphic) Summary: In your grief, you saved the Universe from Thanos but, according to the TVA, that was not your role to play. Ao3: HERE

Notes: Obviously leading up to here didn't totally follow MCU - otherwise there would be no time for Reader and Loki to get together but it's not toooo important and might come up later? Haven't decided hahaha

I know being Norse the whole 'Laufeyson' is not really a family name and they don't have one - therefore there would've been no family name for Reader to take and honestly? Loki would probably take hers cos up until Infinity War - I can't imagine he's happy wih Laufeyson OR Odinson but we know the TVA has him down as Laufeyson.

I wanted to use it as the reveal - and also some kind of name was needed for Reader - and it works as an alias.

Aaaaand yet another Loki/Reader one-shot with basically no Loki - I'm so sorry!!!

Banners by cafekitsune

“…charged with sequence violation, 9-45-51. How do you plead?”

Your head spun with thoughts of the battle you’d left behind, the yelling, the fighting, the grief. All the dirt and grim still clung to you, showing the war you had been dragged from, yet your weapons had been taken and logged for evidence, your mutation somehow not working.

You felt numb.

“How do you plead?” The woman's voice echoed, sharp and annoyed, as you looked up to meet her gaze. No compassion, no empathy. Despite not having seen anyone else and you having a feeling you were already considered guilty - this whole court thing was probably very boring.

“Not guilty.” But maybe it would be better if you were. Erased, sent to nothingness or heaven or Valhalla or whatever existed after, if anything.

“Mrs Laufeyson, you killed Thanos.”

Your grip tightened as you remembered reaching inside of him for every molecule of water and holding it, freezing it. Can’t click if your hands are frozen, can’t do anything when all the water in your body is frozen. His water content hadn’t been that much different from a human.

And then you’d torn him apart.

“Yeah, I stopped him from killing half of Earth, half of the universe!” Anger rose up in you as it had done then. As it had when you had seen Thor come to the battlefield with only a raccoon and a tree.

Because grief would’ve gotten you ripped apart by those aliens in Wakanda and when Thor didn’t strike a death blow? You knew deep down he was out for revenge.

And Loki must’ve fallen.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” the woman answered and your mind went back to the cartoon explanation of the Time-Keepers.

“Then what was supposed to happen?! Thanos killed my husband! If he snapped his fingers, he’d half life across your stupid ‘Sacred Timeline,’ but I’m wrong for killing him?”

“Oh, he’ll be stopped, but not by you.” She banged the gavel. “The court finds you guilty of violating the sacred timeline. Your sentence is to be reset. Next case.”

And just like that, they pulled you from the stand. Like your victory meant nothing, your anger and grief pointless in the face of how time was supposed to flow.

That you were supposed to lose Loki.

“Reset? What does that mean?” A guard held you as the other pulled their stick from their belt, it clicking ominously as it lit up.

“Wait, wait-” You nearly missed the man who jogged to the front of the courtroom. “She could help us find the variant-”

“She was married to one, even if the variant looks different. How do you know she won’t fall for this one too?” The conversation floated above your head, but that got your attention immediately.

“You want me to help you… find Loki?”

The old man turned to you with a gentle smile. “A Loki. There’s a variant causing some trouble, so I thought maybe you could help us find them?”

You watched him, like you were thinking about it. The guard relaxed their grip on you, that gave you an opportunity. “Like hell I’d betray Loki-” you snarled, grabbing at the stick and pulling it into you.

Losing him was bad enough, betraying him was completely out of the question.

You didn’t see their faces or the reaction to your suicide. You just hoped that this would be enough of a battle to take you to Valhalla.

Your eyes snapped open to an overcast sky. Wind rustled the dry grass beneath you as you slowly sat up.

This seemed far from the golden halls of Valhalla.

Failed, you’d failed again. You pushed yourself to your feet and surveyed the long abandoned buildings and debris. A dumping ground it looked like. Was this really what came after?

You trudged steadily across the vast fields, moving further away from the rumbling cloud - much to your relief. The last thing you needed was a storm above you.

You’d passed an Avengers Tower at some point, the building dull and power long-gone. You missed it or rather you missed those peaceful days, coming to live with all the Avengers, drawn to Loki and his cooler aura.

You should’ve known he loved the ice as much as you. Your ice mutation, his true heritage as a Frost Giant - maybe that was what had eventually drawn the two of you to one another. There was always something so quiet about the ice rink and it had become your secret place. Snowball fights, skating, certain activities that weren’t entirely designed to happen on ice.

Tears misted your eyes as you kept going, not sure if you would even find another person - human, alien or anything else - in this realm. Just buildings and places that you did or didn’t know from time gone or time to come.

It seemed like there was no day or night here, just endless clouds. A place that time had forgotten, a place outside of time? You wondered if it sat somewhere on Yggdrasil or if one of those Sorcerers, the ones Bruce had met, could come here.

But if it was a different time and not just a different space… A semi-sphere sticking out of the ground caught your attention. Some kind of wheel on it that reminded you of the way bank vault doors always looked in movies.

It probably couldn’t hurt to open it and see what lay beneath - if anything. You grunted and pushed and pulled at the thing until you found the right way to open it. It creaked in protest, moving slowly before you heard a loud clunk and you began to pull.

The door opened, though you couldn’t see much inside, but there was a ladder to take you down. Death being the worst that could happen, you climbed in and made your slow descent.

The darkness didn’t last long before the hodge-podge of interior decorating greeted you.. Not that this place seemed to have any furniture stores handy.

“Hello?” you called, reaching for the next rung.

A rung that didn't exist. Your grip slid and the ice you reached for did little to soften your fall as you landed with a smack on the floor. The world turned blissfully black. Finally.

Your head throbbed and you groaned in disappointment - where was death when you needed it?

“Hold still a moment longer.” A hand cradled where the throbbing pulsed from in your head as another hand told the rest of you to stay in place. The pain lessened and soon vanished. “There we are.”

You opened your eyes to question what had been done, to find out why something in it was familiar. Your eyes met before your gaze flickered up to a familiar yet different head piece. You shook your head. “I - I was climbing down the ladder - where am I?”

The older man snorted. “At the bottom of the ladder, my dear.” Your eyes swept over his clothes, but soon returned to the horns.

“Loki…?” you whispered tentatively before staring at his face. But, as you suspected;

“I don’t think I’m the Loki you seek, hmm?”

You dropped your gaze, that familiar lump forming in your throat again as you shook your head. There was no way your Loki could have become this old and you weren’t sure that this was what he would look like if he was older.

He patted your head gently. “I suppose you’re the same as all of us, caught by the TVA?”

You nodded, telling him your name. “They - said something about a Loki - they were looking for, I didn’t want -” You breathed out a sorry before taking deep breaths and trying to force that emotion down again so you could speak. “I used the stick thing, I thought it was how they would ‘reset’ me. But I’m here, I thought I would die but…”

Loki tipped your chin gently and shook his head. “No, there’s no peaceful death for us here, I’m afraid. Come on.” He pulled you easily to your feet, still holding one hand as he carefully helped you down the steps to some seats. It almost reminded you of a bowling alley as you took a seat on the two person couch.

He moved away and you took in the space around you, the large chair that could’ve belonged to a mall Santa, bowling pins, old arcade machines, boxed wine, a paddling pool and an - “An alligator?!”

“Another Loki,” he calmly told you, handing over a glass of water. The alligator made its way closer and accepted your tentative pat on its head. Your fingers ran over the cool scales and it seemed content not to attack you.

You sipped the water and shook your head in silent disbelief. “Sure, why not Loki as an alligator.” You looked up, finding the older Loki looking back. “Are there other… people, Asgardians, aliens here?”

“There’s a much younger version of myself who is here too. There are other Lokis out there.” He nodded up to the ladder you’d come down. “But many of them can’t work together - just backstabbing each other until someone rises to the top.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head and sipping from his goblet.

“What happened, if you don’t mind my curiosity?”

Your gaze slipped away. “Something happened with Odin and he died. And- and Loki and Thor have a sister? They went to Sakaar and found Bruce but he was Hulk for a long while. And Asgard was destroyed, Ragnarok happened? I only had Bruce to ask and he - wasn’t totally sure. The most important thing was that Thanos was coming.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki murmured in understanding and you fell silent. It all felt too new. “I managed to escape him on that ship. I disguised myself as debris. He didn’t notice and I was able to drift through space until I found somewhere to stay in solitude. As you can see, I spent a long time there, I’ve aged much since then, but I missed everyone. I wondered if Thor missed me, or Sigyn, anyone.” He sighed and sat back in his chair. “As soon as I started to put something into action in regards to leaving? The TVA showed up.”

“I’m sure they did,” you whispered. After all, it had been Thor’s blow, one of revenge not instant death, that had been the nail in the coffin of your hope. “He wanted revenge on Thanos.”

“You came straight from battle?” At your nod, Loki gestured behind you. “It’s not much but you can clean up, I’ll find something for you to sleep on.”

He got to his feet, leaving you alone, and even Alligator Loki slid back into his paddling pool. Perhaps in some sort of effort to give you privacy. You stripped out of the TVA jumpsuit and climbed into the bath, pulling the curtain around you.

You turned on the water and in your first moment of silence, of tentative safeness, you found the ability to mourn the loss of your husband.

Want to be tagged in future parts or future Loki fic? Go here

[freesia-writes]

From the prompt list

“the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.”

With Echo??? First clone I thought of! Have fun :) can’t wait to read if you decide to write it!

I DID NOT EXPECT TO WRITE THIS MUCH, LOL. Echo pulled a Crosshair! ;) Sheesh.

Echo x GN!Reader Word Count: 3k!! Content: bar fight, first kiss, SW-universe cussing. ;)

You’d gotten quite used to seeing them in Cid’s parlor – a motley crew of bounty hunters or mercenaries or whatever they were. You probably should have known the specifics by now, but they didn’t like to talk about work. And you weren’t paid to talk, you were paid to deliver things without asking questions. So when you found yourself lingering more and more often, lost in conversation with one in particular, you began to wonder if he would be bad for business. Yet somehow, you didn’t care. 

Echo was a complete and total enigma – brave and cynical while also radiating warmth and integrity. You had so many questions that you held back, mostly because it wasn’t entirely polite to ask someone you just met why virtually half their body was cybernetic. So you stuck to the usual topics for a while: the local scene of Ord Mantell, the scum and villainy that was everywhere to be found, and random thoughts about the state of the galaxy. 

Before long, you were surprised to notice how much you looked forward to your courier assignments that brought you into his vicinity, and you found more and more excuses to have extra time there. Instead of lurking around the other hot spots of underworld business dealings to pick up additional jobs, you’d take him up on his offer for a game of darts or a mug of disgustingly cheap beer in a corner booth. It became difficult to deny the sinking feeling in your heart when you trotted down the stairs into Cid’s and the team was absent on a mission. 

But tonight, you were fortunate. The place was bustling – a whole new gang was in town, it seemed, and they were getting along well with the other less-than-respectable locals. The parlor was loud and lively, making it difficult to hear Echo over the incessant talking, scuffling, laughter, and shouting of all the patrons. His squad was enjoying a much-needed day off, scattered about the planet on their own pursuits of refreshment. Tech was working on the ship, Crosshair was seeking blissful solitude somewhere, and Hunter went with Wrecker and Omega on a Mantell Mix pursuit thinly disguised as a supply run. 

Echo had chosen to stay here, and you were trying not to read too much into it. But the conversation had been particularly open and honest tonight, and your head was buzzing with the excitement of connection and the general joviality of the bar. Your mouth hung open slightly as he finished his story, finally filling in all of the details of how he had come to be what and where he was. The last vestiges of pain was receding from his face after having recounted his entire horrid ordeal, and you couldn’t help but place a hand over his after he downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. The sudden intimacy caught his attention, and his pale brown eyes were large as he regarded you beneath the bluish glow of the neon lights. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly, pulling your hand back. “I just… can’t believe it all. You’ve been through so much.” Your words fell out quickly as you tried to move past the potentially awkward moment, but Echo stared at the table, at his own hand where yours had rested just a moment ago. 

“Yeah,” he said absently, not meeting your gaze. “Not how I would have scripted it, that’s for sure.” He appeared to be deep in thought, sharp brows drawing together over his luminous eyes. When he finally did look up, he appeared to be brimming with something… a question, a realization… and he slowly opened his mouth to speak. 

CRASH!

A glass bottle shattered against the wall above the two of you, causing you to yelp and fling your arms over your head as liquid and pieces rained down. The table scraped loudly as Echo flew to his feet, hawkishly raking his eyes over the crowd. But there was no question where the disturbance had come from – a brawl had broken out across the room, and the shouting was growing louder as two entire groups immediately jumped into a conflict started by just two individuals. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you said urgently, pulling on his arm as you stood beside him. You knew when it was wise to make yourself scarce after having been caught in the crossfire more often than you’d like. These sorts of crowds were irrationally unpredictable and predictably irrational. Echo cast you a glance for a moment before turning back to the aggravated group, keeping his eye on them as they swung at each other and crashed into tables nearby. He seemed torn, giving you a quick nod but then muttering under his breath.

“They’re gonna tear the whole place up…”

Cid was nowhere to be seen, and other patrons were being dragged into the fight as it grew and grew. Tables were turning, glasses smashing, and it was all threatening to melt into utter chaos when suddenly a series of live blaster bolts exploded against the ceiling in rapid-fire succession. It was enough noise and light to catch everyone’s attention for a moment, allowing for a very temporary pause as Echo’s voice boomed across the room.

“Get out!” he shouted, standing on the seat next to you, blasters in hand. “Take this kriffing garbage somewhere else!” You were in shock, watching the various reactions across the faces before you. A good few of them took the opportunity to do just that, making their getaway before it escalated any further. But a few hard-headed beefcakes threw a couple more punches before advancing toward Echo. 

“Come on,” you said fearfully, pulling at his arm again as he stepped down beside you in a wide, prepared stance. 

“Yeah, listen to your tasty little friend,” the leader of the group teased, “Or we might have to teach both of you a lesson.” Echo bristled, head lowering slightly, and you could feel the rage emanating off of him. 

“Don’t,” you pleaded, feeling frantic.

“Can’t turn away now,” Echo responded without looking away from the few hooligans with smug grins on their faces, drawing closer with every step. Your heart was pounding in your chest, mouth completely dry at the thought of him getting hurt, even though you knew he put his life on the line on a regular basis. You began looking around for something, anything that might change the course of action. But then it all happened at once. 

Two of them leapt at Echo simultaneously, but his quick dodge left them running into each other. He rushed the third with his head down, plowing into his chest and smashing him into the wall behind. His head cracked against the stone loudly, and he sank to the floor unconscious. The others were back on their feet though, fists swinging in messy anger. Echo blocked one punch, landing a blow of his own and spinning the assailant to twist his arm up behind his back before squeezing the trigger on his blaster to hit the other one squarely in the chest with a bright blue stun ray. 

A squawk of pain escaped the first and he dropped his weight to the side, pulling Echo down with him as he freed his arm. He leapt up in a flash, aiming a kick that caught Echo in the ribs as he scrambled to his own feet. The sound was sickening, and the breathless grunt that left his lips made you feel his pain in your own stomach. But he moved impossibly fast, ducking another swing and landing a rapid one-two punch that had his opponent spinning. A quick lean followed by a powerful kick sent the other man crashing through another table where he landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, unmoving except for the occasional squirm. 

Echo was breathing hard, looking around quickly at any other potential attackers. But the rest of the crowd had either cleared out or was composed of the few remaining stragglers that were doing their best to maintain the semblance of normalcy as they drinked and chatted uneasily. He clutched a hand to his ribs, wincing with a scowl on his face, and you were by his side in an instant. 

“It’s fine,” he said automatically as you touched his shoulder, face radiating concern and affection that you just couldn’t hide anymore. You were relieved that he was alright, and as your pulse slowly returned to normal, you realized you were also completely in awe of his capability in a way that felt like more than just… awe… You were trying to find the words 

But you were interrupted by an angry-sounding tromping down the stairs from the street above, a sickening feeling rising in your stomach. As you saw a whole group of those same troublemakers from before, you realized who was associated with whom, and it was definitely time to go. You grabbed Echo’s arm, pulling him with surprising force toward Cid’s office. As he assessed the situation, you could see the indignation and anger on his face, but he ultimately allowed you to pull him away. When the office door whooshed shut behind you, you frantically tapped on the keypad to lock it from the inside. 

“I know you could take them all,” you began, turning around to face him. He was standing, but leaning on the edge of Cid’s desk, face grumpy as he rubbed a hand across his ribs. “But it’s not worth it. There’s an endless supply of idiocy like that around here – you’re going to put a target on your back.” 

“It’s just ridiculous that–” came his angry reply, but you stepped closer, cupping his cheek with a suddenness that surprised yourself. 

“I know,” you repeated, softly this time as his exhilarating proximity registered in your brain and body. “Sorry…” you admitted, casting about for words, “I just…” You faltered, trying to explain something you were only just now fully realizing for yourself. “Are your ribs broken?” 

The change of subject took his attention for a moment, and he felt the ridges and grooves with tentative fingers. He breathed in slowly, flinching when his lungs expanded to a certain point, and slowly let it out, raising his eyes to yours. “Maybe a little crack,” he said, the bitterness in his voice unfettered by the waves of pain. 

“You get into fights often?” you asked, lowering your hand from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. 

“Not if I don’t have to,” he answered, and you arched an eyebrow in response. “Alright, I know I didn’t have to say anything, but… it’s just not right…” His mutter trailed off as he shrugged, turning away in what might have been shame. You felt your heart swell in your chest at his sense of integrity, trying to find words to express it without completely giving away the depth of your feelings, but the beep of his comm interrupted your search.

Havoc 4, come in.  

He pulled it from his belt, lifting it to his mouth with an apologetic glance to you. “Go ahead.”

There appears to be a significant disturbance in the area of Cid’s parlor, according to the local surveillance network. What is your location?

“Yeah, there was a bar fight, Tech. It’s fine, it’s over now.”

That is not what I asked.

“I’m at Cid’s,” Echo snapped, rolling his eyes at the pert voice on the line. “I told you, it’s fine.”

The comm was silent for a moment, and you met Echo’s gaze with a small, compassionate smile. 

Understood. The ship is located in its usual docking bay, should anyone there require medical attention. 

A click and a beep signaled the disconnect, and the smirk on Echo’s face had you puzzled for a moment. 

“What?” you asked, unable to hold it back.

“‘S just karking annoying when he knows more than he should,” he grumbled, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. He sighed, looking up at you as though he were fully realizing your softness, your lingering touches, and your blatant concern and admiration. He opened his mouth for a moment as though trying to decide what to say, then slowly closed it, regarding you evenly. You swallowed, suddenly wildly aware of every single muscle in your body, and tried to arrange your features into a neutral expression. 

“”What?” Now it was his turn to ask, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head at you. 

“What?” you echoed, eyes wide and innocent as you looked at him with the look of one accused. 

“What… uh… What are you… so concerned… about?” The smirk was fading into a slight insecurity of his own. You took a deep breath, cheeks flushed red as your heart continued to race. Something about the thrill of it all and the sudden vulnerability in this private room had you reeling, with long-restrained feelings brimming at the surface and threatening to spill over. 

“You,” you whispered, lowering your eyes and chewing on your thumb nail. “I care… about you.”

His own heart skipped a beat at your admission – something he had suspected, no – hoped for – yet felt entirely unworthy to believe. He rose to his feet, a cringe flashing across his face before he became still again, staring intently at your eyes. “You do?” he asked, voice husky and quiet now, disarmed entirely. 

His tone was soothing and inviting, and the thinly-veiled vulnerability was entirely irresistible. Buoyed by the adrenaline of the evening and the thrill of the situation before you, you took a step closer, lifting your other hand to rest on his chest. Leaning in slightly, you touched your forehead to his, smiling at his sharp inhale and the subsequent closing of his eyes that completely melted your heart. You were helplessly entranced, and you brushed your fingers along his jaw before resting them on the back of his shoulder as you pulled yourself close. 

Your lips met with a feather-light touch that sent sparks flying immediately. Your heart thrilled at the sensation, body exploding with euphoric tingles, and you pulled back quickly, keeping your foreheads together but remaining frozen in joyous disbelief otherwise. He let out a slow breath, as if soaking up every single second, then stepped back a few inches, opening his eyes to gaze at you in awe and disbelief and wonder and delight. 

“Sorry if that was… uh…” you began, but he shook his head immediately, curling his fingers gently under your chin and touching the pad of his thumb to your lips to silence the rest. 

“It wasn’t,” he said, eyes intent. “Unless… It was a mistake, or–”

“No no no,” you laughed, standing slightly straighter as he dropped his hand from your lips to your waist. “Why would it be a mistake?” He shrugged, casting his gaze off to the side with a sudden expression of sheepish disdain that you were wildly curious. Giving him a slight nudge, you pressed, “Echo?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, unwillingly meeting your eyes. “I just… didn’t think people saw me that way…” He fell silent, the magnitude of his words settling on your heart, heavy with compassion. You stepped back in, nestling yourself against his chest, and brushed your lips against his cheek as you whispered near his ear. 

“Let me show you how I see you.”

In an uncharacteristic burst of courage, you looped both arms around his neck, bringing your lips to his with ardent intentionality. He stiffened for a split second before relaxing into your embrace, sliding his own arm around your waist and digging the other into your hair at the base of your neck. You felt as though you could swoon as he held you so effortlessly, and you tilted your head as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss with a whisper-soft sigh. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested a hand on it, feeling relieved that it matched your own frantic pulse rate. 

You kissed again and again, changing the angle, adding the tiny stroke of a tongue or the hungry tug of a lip. He seemed to grow before you, his presence expanding with an alluring mix of dumbfounded surprise that framed a strength, resolve, and passion that made your knees weak. His hands roved gently across your body, caressing you against him as his open--mouthed kisses grew messier. The sensation of his lips on yours, his taste filling your mind and sparkling with the sensation of his hands gliding along your skin… you had a fleeting concern that you may have died and gone to heaven. 

But the dreamy reverie was broken suddenly as he pulled back, breathing hard and sucking in air as though his life depended on it. He drew the back of one hand across his mouth, one last shuddering breath escaping before he settled into a quiet, blissful smile. 

“Didn’t think people saw you that way…” you scoffed in playful jest, shaking your head in utter disbelief. 

“Well, I’ve been somewhat convinced that it’s untrue,” he returned evenly, the suggestive smolder in his gaze sending a warmth blossoming between your legs. 

“Only somewhat?: you repeated with a grin. 

“Somewhat,” he answered, cupping your face and leaning in again.

@wolffegirlsunite @littlefeatherr @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @foreverdaydreamingxo @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom @dukeoftheblackstar @clio3kantarella @goblininawig @the-hexfiles @1vlouds @sunshinesdaydream @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @ughhhhfoff @coraex @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @gt13tbbart @523rdrebel @ghostperson69 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @secondaryrealm @rain-on-kamino @hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @dangraccoon @sev-on-kamino @cloneloverrrrr @kashasenpai @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink @stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @littlemissmanga @eyecandyeoz @dhawerdaverd @ladylucksrogue @thiswitchloves9904

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[skullsnbruises]

Fake fic titles INCOMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Drown me ink

You can't change what's been carved in your soul

Pull my frown upside down

Cursed are the one's that twist the tale

Reflections

A bunch of amazing titles but I picked the one that gave me the most angsty feels LOL

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @data-expunged-0 @da3dm

You Can’t Change What’s Been Carved in Your Soul

[752 words] [angst, self hatred]

Wilbur is a giant.

Overprotective and loud and overbearing.

He knew he hurt Tommy that way, being too much at all times. And yet he could never part from the little human, too close to him now to separate their bond. They were like brothers, it would kill Wilbur to leave like that.

But his claws were too sharp and he was afraid to hold Tommy. And his voice boomed and he was too afraid to talk to Tommy. And his steps echoed infinitely and he was too afraid to walk to Tommy.

It was all too much to bear.

He wanted to tear his soul out of this giant body, it’s dumb and fumbly steps, it’s piercing high voice, it’s sharp claws, and especially it’s urge to swallow Tommy whole.

It was only once Wilbur had brought up the instinct to Tommy, and the human curled up in disgust. The thought of being covered in saliva and in such a cacophony of sound inside someone’s organ was gross to him, where it was intimate love to Wilbur. It broke him.

He couldn’t take away that he was a giant, no matter how soft and human he acted. He’d always be the monster he was born as.

Wilbur hated himself. So much.

“Wil,” the human nagged at him.

“What child?”

“Oi!” Tommy huffed, “…You’re actin’ all weird. It’s not like you to be so quiet. What’s up?”

Wilbur had been found out, “Oh, nothing.”

“It’s not fucking nothing. You’re miserable, Wilbur.”

He bit his nails which had been torn down to the skin, “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

“Wilbur!” Tommy shouted now, “Tell me. Now.”

He hesitated, “I… I feel awful,” he regret saying it immediately, seeing Tommy’s expression turn to a frown.

The human stepped forward to him, and placed a hand on Wilbur’s arm, rubbing comfortingly, “Tell me about it, Wil.”

It made his mind shut down, suddenly he was sobbing loudly, and probably hurting Tommy’s ears again, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Woah- it’s okay big man! It’s okay, what’s wrong?”

“I hurt you, it’s all I do-“

“Hold the fuck on,” Tommy stopped him, “That’s what you’ve been fuckin’ doing. Fuck, Wilbur you’re not hurting me! You’ve never hurt me. If it’s about the damn volume it’s fine, man, I just poke fun at you cause we’re like that.”

“B-but,” Wilbur sniffed, “You cringed at the… when I-“ he couldn’t get out the words. He wanted to explain how deeply close he wanted Tommy to be, literally and metaphorically. He wanted to hold Tommy inside him, cuddling him in the most extreme way possible. That’s how much he loved his brother.

“Woah-“ Tommy was in Wilbur’s hands. Oh fuck. Wilbur couldn’t help himself. He looked delicious, and so upset all because of him.

His instincts cried, ringing louder than they had ever in Wilbur’s ears, piercing and bloody.

Surely this could explain without words, they cooed.

So, without letting himself think too hard, he shoveled Tommy into his mouth, tears streaming.

The human panicked, struggling against a tongue that was intrusively licking stripes along his body now. Teeth clicked firmly behind him, and his vision went dark.

Tommy briefly recalled a previous conversation and felt weak as he squeaked out, “Am I safe?”

A positive hum responded to him, vibrating against his body weirdly. Tommy laughed under his breath at the sensation and felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Okay. I still say this is kinda gross. But whatever.”

The appendage squished Tommy between a wet hug, pressing rough into his body. He sighed and let into the embrace, wrapping his arms back around the tongue. A deep humming- no, purring, now filled the slobbery room.

Tommy let his body glide down, meeting the back of Wilbur’s throat. It looked like a tight squeeze, but Tommy thankfully wasn’t claustrophobic.

A few swallows and the embrace of the esophagus drug Tommy’s body down. He could feel Wilbur’s hand slowly tracing over the small bump that was the human.

Eventually the squish was over and Tommy slipped into an open area. The storage was roomy enough, at least for one person, and Tommy felt fairly comfortable. It was very warm, and the air might be a bit sticky, but Wilbur’s purring wouldn’t cease, so the human could cope.

If Wilbur was happy, so was Tommy.

And Wilbur never felt happier.

Maybe he couldn’t change himself, but he could learn to love the way he was.

[miaisocool]

Echoes of silence

Business man!Daemon Targaryen x College student reader!

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: A very short chapter but as the story progresses it will get longer and more exciting i promise and props to @kymopoleiak for making me this collage please go follow her she is also working with me as i write the chapters. This is a chapter two to Succession in the city so if you haven't read that please go do so!! check it out i will provide a link below!

Chapter one: Succession in the city

Chapter summary: You discover yourself entangled in the intricate dance of hesitation. Your Heartbeat resonating with echoes of silence and opportunity as you prepare to take the initiative. You cant help but ponder what will this engagement of communication lead to opportunities or a chapter in your life writing itself away.

At brunch:

As you walked and talked with Mia, there was a sense of comfort held within her presence as she was your childhood friend well, not technically since you only met her your freshman year of high school. she also moved to los angeles to pursue her dream of going to college in california but she wasn't sure what to study. You talked about everything from work to relationships, the conversations you guys usually held between each other flowed easily there was never any awkward silence being held or grudges against each other.

Only the feeling of each others presence comforting the two of you there was a sense of vulnerability in you whenever it came to mia she was the friend who you would come to whenever there was something that you couldn't reveal to others she was the only one that had ever seen tears flowing from your eyes which was all so new to you since sadness was the one emotion you never truly expressed to anybody, not even yourself it was a rare occurrence whenever you would break down either due to stress, sadness or just bottled up emotions of holding everything in for so long.

The streets were filled with horns honking, shoes clacking against the pavement the cool breeze swept your hair into your face, you tucked it behind your ear with a thoughtless, practiced motion, as if you'd done it a thousand times before. Your high heels clacked against the concrete as you and mia walked to your favorite brunch spot that remind you of a similar brunch spot in new york,

During your junior year of high school where your ex boyfriend took you out for a first date you were young, vulnerable and thoughtless. He was whom and what your whole world revolved around you pushed all of your friends away to make room for him causing your social skills to go down although you were very social and a great conversationalist and just a good people person in general. You felt like you were bound to him, the late night phone conversations, talking about wedding plannings and how many kids you guys would have, where you guys would settle down and his answer was usually italy which was a answer you didn't agree with since california was your mission ever since you were a young girl you felt as if he was the only guy you could ever put your trust in.

Even years after the breakup there was slight tinges of heartbreak pulling on your heart strings as you still remembered the contact of his touch the way his calloused fingers from playing guitar for you until you fell asleep would graze up and down against your soft thighs the skin to skin hard and soft contact felt comforting to you, you guys were complete opposites but there was something that spiritually connected you guys together you couldn't remember his face though it was hard to get it out when your heart yearned for him.. But you were alone now not hopeless, alone, broken but you were free, alone, still young and truly yourself.

The restaurant was your comfort spot the warmth of the sun glazed on your face bringing out your dilated pupils as you thought of the man that came up to you in the coffee shop last week. The outside fan blowing a slight coldness to your face fighting against the sunny heat of california, dishes were clanking against each other as waiters were scurrying around the restaurant as if they were rats from ratatouille helping to serve the rush of customers that came in. The modern black leathered chairs bringing out the restaurants not very vibrant atmosphere gave you a weird tinge of discomfort people walking near you and mia as you guys sat down outside listening to the birds chirp and cars pass by. You felt a knot slowly untangle in your throat as you let words flow out your mouth "I mean.. i dont know.. should i call him?" you asked under your breath as you fiddled with the glass you were holding the question hung in the air until, mia took a sip of her water. Ice clinking against the glass and then she brought back the glass down to the table "i mean whats the worse that could happen?" she said nonchalantly. Mia was somewhat right whats the worse that could happen but what could go right and if it did end up going up right what would happen?

"I dont know.. im just scared"

"Of?"

"I dont know.."

"See? you dont even know whats holding you back," mia shook her head at you as she scrolled through her phone before putting it facing down on the table again

"Sometimes, it's easier to do nothing rather than put yourself out there," you whispered the words catching the back of your throat.

"Sometimes it's ok to be the first to reach out" mia gritted her teeth in frustration as her eyes drooped low in dissatisfaction

you nodded your head cause you knew she was right

You take out the business card from your wallet, and carefully dial the number into your phone, trying to steady your somewhat shaking hand. The ringing sounds of the phone echoes in your ear as you look and make eye contact with mia as she takes a spliff of her cigarette between her cherry tinted lipstick staining thumbing the print left by her lipstick as she dusts the idle ash as her eyes connected with yours with a mere look. You feel your heart beating fast as you await to hear someone's voice on the other end.

After what felt like an eternity, the seconds seem to stretch on for an eternity before someone finally answers, and you can hear the relief wash over you as you hear, "Thank you for calling Targaryen Law and associates you’ve reached Alexa how can i assist you today?” Her voice resonated with assurance, triggering a vivid flashback to your own days in customer service. Memories flooded back from when you were just 18, working at a local grocery store. You remembered the feeling of dread each time the phone rang, the pressure to handle customer inquiries. Alexa's composed demeanor stirred those long-buried recollections, reminding you of the challenges you once faced in a similar role you didn’t enjoy it but your coworkers that got along with you made you enjoy it. you had to make a living if you wanted to end up successful or not homeless at least.

With a deep breath, you manage to clear your throat and free it from the tense knot that had formed there. The echoes of the impatient silence you heard on the phone still ring in your ears, causing a dull ache deep within your chest. You feel as if the silence itself had taken physical form.

“Yeah hi this is kiara i was hoping to speak with Mr Targaryen? is he available by any chance?”

"I understand your urgency. Let me see if I can arrange a brief moment for you. Please hold for a moment while I try to get Mr. Targaryen on the line."

You place the phone away from you as you fiddled with it in with your right hand waiting for what you assumed to be his assistant or one of his employees to say a response back quickly as if you knew the next words that were going to come out her mouth but that was a lie you didn't know her at all you wanted to, you longed for the mystery everyone had.. the mystery the people in Los Angeles held in his aura peaked your curiosity.. You take a few deep breaths to release the tension from your shoulders. As you look up, the light from the sun reflecting off the glass buildings surrounding you blinds you for a moment. A cool gust of wind blows past, bringing in the smell of flowers and city life. The sounds of honking cars, people chatting, and the hum of the city surround you, but you feel disconnected from it all being seconds or minutes away daemons presence as you were being transferred right there and on the phone with you knowing you had to take initiative.

“Daemon Targaryen speaking.”

As you heard Daemon Targaryen’s, dominant voice, a palpable sense of authority washed over you sending adrenaline throughtout your heart slowly beating at a faster tempo his words, deep and commanding, resonated through the phone, leaving no room for uncertainty. You couldn’t help but feel a mixture of respect and awe, tinged with a hint of intimidation. It was as though his voice had a magnetic pull, drawing you into his sphere of influence. His confident tone left an indelible impression.

You found yourself in shock by the way his voice flowed through your ears, each word dripping with authority and confidence. It wasn’t just the words he spoke, but the cadence, the resonance that seemed to echo in the very core of your being his words resonating with every chord coming from the music that was blasting in the restaurant. In that moment, you realized you were not just hearing a voice…

you were experiencing a commanding presence that stirred something deep within you.

“Yeah hi this is kiara… you gave me you’re Business card last week in the coffee shop i’m not sure if you remember” In a moment of panic, you found your voice, though it trembled slightly, breaking the silence that followed his powerful presence although he was over the phone and had no physical contact with you showed you how vulnerable you could be in his presence.

“Ah yes kiara i remember you, i gave you my card since i knew once how it was to be working on those weird marketing projects”

His voice had a magnetic pull, echoing into your ears It was a voice of empathy and softness, yet there was still an underlying intensity to it, as if it was trying to hold back the strength of his power. It was a voice that commanded attention and respect, yet it was also a voice that invited tenderness and compassion.

“yeah… studying marketing is weird.. it’s just that i’m struggling with it you know?”

You felt like there was barbed wires wrapped around your throat as words left your tongue when you made contact with the man who had higher power, held such a confident demeanor over you which is what possibly could’ve attracted you to call him he wasn’t ordinary like everyone else but he carried this mystery about his self and it felt like you had the opportunity to break his skin open and crawl inside his body confronting every secret he was hiding the mysteries or grudges he held against the strangers he would come across the interactions he had with a object or just a human in general made your mind wander with curiousity.

“Im available tomorrow since all my meetings were canceled due to.. god knows what.”

 his voice was like thunder sharp and commanding a touch of amusement in it, a glimmer of light that made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. His words held power, but there was a playful note in his voice, as if he were letting you in on a secret that nobody else ever had their ears opened to.

“My companys address is on the back of the card how does three pm work for you?” His deepened voice that sounded like silk against your touch intensified with curiosity that had peaked

“uh… yeah! i can meet that time at three pm tomorrow” You said overlapping the noise of the resturants music so mia could hear you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as mias eyes widened in surprise and her lips curves into a smile as she patted you on the forearm, her actions bringing back all of your senses as the man’s voice of authority and confidence had blocked out everything from the world and made you feel like there was nothing else in the world except his presence or yours. The thought made your heart race with anticipation. It was a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time

“I’m glad to hear that, tomorrow give me a call when you’re here” It was a voice that demanded attention, and you were powerless to resist.

His voice combined with that sentence sent adrenaline to coarse throughout your veins. slowly coming back to your senses as you take a look at the brunch spot you guys had been at for the past hour and a half the aromas of cooked foods such as eggs, toast, sausages and variety’s of different lunch and breakfast sandwiches.

The not so vibrant interior comforting your skin as you made contact with it slowly turning into a cozy sense of home the home you had back in new york the warmth of the sunlight beaming off of the windows onto your face showing all of your features to your dilated pupils and exposed pores, porcelain skin.

Unfortunately the brunch spot wasn’t in a quiet neighborhood away from the city unlike the other spots you were used to in new york you could hear horns honking the sounds of people chattering and laughing somewhat muffling the conversation you held with mia and the conversation you held not too long ago with the man.. Daemon..

Daemon targaryen

You remembered from his card that he previously handed to you

The brunch spot was perfect for chatting and enjoying the presence of loved ones.

Perhaps even daemon.

if you dared to allow yourself the possibility. But deep down, you knew that was your delusions getting to you. It was best not to set yourself up for disappointment, to keep a clear head and enjoy the moment for what it was nothing more, nothing less. As you sat there, you let out a deep breath, watching the steam rise from your lips and melt into the air around you. For now, you were content to simply relax and let the world pass you by, taking comfort in the knowledge that, in this moment, everything was exactly where it should be.