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chosos-mascara · 1 year

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gojo's bride

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, violence, arranged marriage, guns, killing/shooting in one scene, you're on the run, bounty hunter toji, marriage

side characters: suguru, sukuna and toji

5.4k words

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to.

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not experience normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them; because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet.

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a long sleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place.

"Now, the reason we're gathered here is due to an important announcement within the family." Your father spoke, lips curving upward into a smile as his eyes darted to your own. It had been obvious when your parents had requested your presence for dinner there had been an ulterior motive, with yourself being left alone unless there had been news, or you'd been in need of discipline. It had usually been the latter, with being in your twenties and having a powerful father while being rebellious to his rules, there had been frequent fall-outs. Though within the moment his cold stare met yours, you'd understood exactly what he'd been about to say.

"I've picked a partner for my daughter, finally." Through his thin smile, jagged teeth had shown. "Next week, she'll become a Zen'in, and our clan will reap the benefits of being united with one of the top three." For such a disgusting statement, he spoke with confidence, watching through beady eyes as the chatter of close and distant family members erupted, though mostly from excitement. "What?" The quiet protest fell between conversations of others, any further objections died on your tongue. He looked down at you, a vacant stare before continuing. Your gaze fluttered to your mother to ask for a semblance of empathy, yet you were met with the same ruthless eyes.

"Naoya Zen'in, my future son in law, will aid in managing business, merging with his father's company." The name had rang alarm bells through your already cascading mind, oblivion on the horizon. Naoya, a bigger misogynist than any man within your clan, a person referred to as scum by anyone with half a brain.

There had been an uncomfortable cough opposite you, your panicked gaze meeting the dark eyes of your cousin. He's raised a brow, placing serviette beside plate as his head tilted toward large wooden doors - the only exit from the dining hall. You took a moment to think, mouth agape and heart racing, before standing. A large push through your daze of emotion had been all it had taken to activate the flight response, leaving your seat to run toward your room.

Once your head had hit pillow, tears flooded through your eyes, face plush to soft sheets in order to drown out the sobs raking over your body. The Zen'ins had been one of three leading clans within the mafia, alongside Kamo and Gojo. Three lineages known to be the dirtiest of all, though due to honor had been treated as if royalty. You'd heard Sukuna speak of Naoya in passing, and his disgust with the man he'd only met in passing.

"Hey," Sukuna's voice filled the air between muffled cries, body shaking and breaths heavy as you'd turned to face the figure walking through the room. Shifting, you sat with your back against the headboard, a pillow in your lap as the mattress dipped to allow space to your only friend. "I'm so sorry-" Sukuna began, bringing a hand to his face and sighing. "This is bad."

The weight of the situation before you had grown heavier when your cousin had admitted his own alarm. Sukuna feared no one, and had taught you to follow him on the same path of callousness; jobs executed with little remorse or care. Your partnership had resembled siblings to outsiders in the sense that you'd been family no one would cross, even if Ryomen had been a relatively new name within this world. With the company founded by your grandfather, there had been just enough time to spread word of the name, though when comparing feats to that of Gojo or Kamo, Ryomen had appeared ant-sized.

"I can't," You stuttered over words between labored breaths, a harsh squeeze over the pillow clutched within your grip, pressing into your stomach. "Sukuna, I really can't do this." Brown eyes scanned over you once more, concern riddled within the pupils, down turned eyebrows creating a crease at his forehead. He hadn't seen you like this before; distraught, scared. Since childhood, the pair of you had pushed emotion from your psyche, swearing vow to be honest only with the other. Each of you had promised to be the only person to trust in the harsh world you'd been brought into. In adulthood, you'd met with him significantly less, and Sukuna had built a name for himself as the Ryomen with the dirtiest hands. Yet, the vow would not be broken.

"There's a place downtown," Sukuna's voice had been hushed, a sigh from his lips before continuing. "Tonight, we'll leave. You can stay until I find a way to get you out of this mess." The statements he'd spoken had been frantic as he'd tried to make sense of the visions in his head - if he would've simply been born with more intelligence, perhaps he'd have been better aid when you'd needed him most.

"What's that going to do?" You laughed through helpless sobs, rolling eyes at the promise he'd made - though with trembling lips and fingernails scratching anxiously over the skin of your arm, your body had demonstrated the true terror within you. "Dad's not going to cancel a deal halfway through, not with the Zen'ins." Reiterating your point, you tried to push him away from an ill-planed escape, however much you'd needed him to give his all. "We'll figure this out, okay?" Tattooed fingers smoothed through his hair, dullness within his gaze as he watched over your deflated form.

It had been midnight when you'd left. With only a backpack for belongings, you'd stuffed it to the best of your ability before slipping through the bedroom window, prayers whispered as you'd absconded the building. Hopefully, your family would notice your disappearance after you'd left their surveillance lines.

Sukuna had waited a block away, engine running as he'd awaited your presence in the passenger side. It hadn't taken much pleading before Suguru had agreed to house you, only having to hear the Zen'in name before allowing you to seek refuge, though he couldn't deny his concerns of being found even while in a safe house. After holding his breath while waiting for you, you'd finally emerged, slumping against the passenger seat. Sukuna had now been in control of your fate, shifting into drive.

The journey hadn't been long, reaching the building within a half hour, though concern riddling your mind upon entry. A run down apartment block, ivy curving into single-pane windows to grow along the white-washed brick inside, cracked tiles beneath your feet left unwashed and elevator jolting upon movement. Your travels had been led mostly in silence, each remaining expressionless despite the mental hellfire you were wading through.

Stopping at a wooden door, a brass 206 nailed into the middle of the wood, Sukuna had only had to knock once before it had opened. Stomach dropping, you stepped back, frantically looking to your cousin to voice your shock and betrayal when seeing the blue eyes behind the door. It hadn't made sense why Sukuna had brought you to a Gojo hideout - one of the leading clans alongside the Zen'ins.

"Don't worry." The familiar brown eyes met your own, stern countenance and monotone voice as he'd placed a hand over your shoulder, a light push forward. "Satoru isn't like his family." After Sukuna's reassurance, the Gojo had opened the door wider, stepping to the side to accommodate both you and your cousin as you passed through. The apartment's interior hadn't reflected the halls outside, being well decorated and clean. Following Sukuna through to the kitchen, you watched as he seated himself at the table, inked hand reaching to his pocket to fish out a carton of straights, pulling one from the pack and setting it to his lips. The amber of his lighter emerged after only one flick of the steel, lighting the end of the cigarette and taking a drag.

"This is Gojo Satoru." Sukuna broke the silence, gesturing toward the white haired male you'd met with moments prior. The smoke drifting upward from the end of his cigarette wafted as he waved his hand, stopping as a painted nail pointed behind you. "That's Geto Suguru." Turning, you were met with a new face, though a name you'd recognised.

Both males introduced had been tall, differing builds yet similar black ink etched into their skin. Satoru had been lanky, yet his height and demeanour gave an aura you hadn't often experienced, one of importance. Gojo's limbs had been decorated, though the most notable artwork had been the clan mark of Gojo: an eye on the right side of the neck. An immediate sign of strength for those who understood its meaning. Geto had been much broader, manner radiating from physical build rather than an intense aura. His physical strength had been clear.

"Goes without saying that you can't leave the apartment." Sukuna's words had been low, eyes fixed to you with an intimidating stare. The heartfelt and honest personality he'd shared with you had switched when in the presence of others, Sukuna instead watching through an emotionless gaze as you reacted to his words. The instruction had been one that had your brow furrowing and arms crossing, though Geto had interrupted before you'd had the chance to counter. "Naoya Zen'in is dangerous." Geto leaned back on a countertop, both hands supporting his weight as he continued. "Not because he's strong - it's because he's weak. People follow him only through fear." Geto shifted, eyes straying to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Naoya doesn't kill - he tortures, molests, creates hell for those who don't give him his way. Even then, he's too cowardly to do anything with his own hands." Suguru's statements had your blood running cold, a lump forming within your throat.

"If he finds you, it's over." Sukuna continued from his friend, another puff of smoke passing his lips. He leaned back, usual stoic expression saddening you after the anomaly of sympathy he'd displayed earlier that evening. "It's not just your life on the line right now; if they know we're involved, there's consequences-" One thing you'd despised throughout your life had been being treated as if a child, awfully long explanations from those who'd considered themselves smarter than you; almost always describing words of common sense. "I know." Quick to interject, you'd stopped Geto's lecture, straightening yourself. "I'll stay here." You met your cousin's eyes as he stood from the chair, opening the window situated behind the sink to throw the smoked-cigarette through, closing it once discarded.

Sukuna had departed shortly after, cautious as not to raise suspicion. Between his few visits, you would be on no-contact, careful not to expose your whereabouts to your own family, or any clan allied with them. After twenty hours, your parents had reported you missing, stomach churning when details of a bounty had been explained in grueling detail by Gojo. He'd sat through an uncomfortable conversation within his own clan's meeting, reciting the disdain from the Zen'ins when the topic of Ryomen had been brought up in passing.

It had been three days before Sukuna had visited once more, tense body radiating nothing other than intense stress. He'd attempted to appear un-phased by the events surrounding you, but when seeing the tired eyes and hunched back, you'd understood he'd been suffering. He'd slumped down in the kitchen chair once again, lighting up a cigarette before beginning to formulate words. The actions had mirrored that of your first evening in confinement, a feeling of deja-vu as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"They're getting restless." He spoke, deep voice much rougher due to lack of sleep and an increase in his smoking habit. Gojo sighed, taking a seat beside him. You fiddled with your thumbs above the table, helpless to the strains both you and your cousin had faced. "Sukuna." Speaking his name had caused his eyes to flicker up and land to your expression. "I don't think there's anything we can do." His stop-off at the apartment had been limited, agreeing between the four of you that his visits should not exceed ten minutes. His departure had grown closer with every passing second, but a conclusion had yet to be found.

"We'll find something." His reassurance had fallen to your deaf ears, instead of bringing comfort, his statement had instead made you feel as if your concerns were brushed off. He'd began to slip away, leaving yourself seated at the table, still helpless to the world surrounding you. There was nothing you could do in the small apartment, even if you'd wanted to aid in finding a loophole, or a solution.

The following morning had marked four days missing, in which you'd grown increasingly depressive and bored. The new roommates you'd gained had often left for jobs and abandoned you to your own devices - which had been daytime television and chores. Being on the run had meant you were unable to use a phone or computer, and being alone most of the time had eradicated the chance of passing time through conversation or games.

On the odd occasion only one of the males had been home, there had been one you'd preferred to the other. Gojo's presence had felt much greater than Geto's (even if he'd been more annoying). Gojo had at least made attempts at conversations. When overcoming the sense of pity Gojo had displayed toward you, he'd been pleasant to talk with, speaking of shared interests such as movies and music. Gojo had been passionate, often becoming excitable when remembering certain scenes or moments within his favourite media - though he could become equally as shut-off. There was a darkness within Gojo you knew he'd held close, and when childlike wonder had worn off, there was a very different person beneath.

Geto had been mostly silent, though you could feel the heavy judgement through his body language. His gaze had been heavy on your skin, eyes narrowing with each movement and shoulders tense. It had been clear Geto did not trust you, and had more reluctance toward befriending you than Gojo had.

Bringing a damp garment to hang over metal pole, you threaded fabric through the bars of the indoor clothes-horse, hanging them to dry. Much of your time spent in the apartment when both men had been home had been within the kitchen, mostly as not to burden the others with your presence. Though as you grabbed another shirt to dry, you'd noticed a tall figure at the door.

"Are you doing laundry?" Gojo questioned, shoulder pressed up to the frame as he watched your movements. You nodded, returning back to the task at hand. "My bag was small so I've run out of clean clothes." Exhaling, you drooped the cotton over, straightening out a few creases. He smirked, finally pushing himself from the wood to waltz toward the cupboard, pulling a bag of sweets from a shelf and tearing it open. Placing a hard-boiled candy between his lips, he gestured the bag toward you. "Want one?" The query had been muffled and accompanied by a few clicks of the sweet against his teeth. You shook your head, a small smile as if to thank him before he'd shrugged and brought the bag back toward his chest.

Instead of leaving, Gojo had seated himself at the table, the perfect view to the chore you'd been partaking within. His eyes had burned into you, yet you'd attempted to continue as usual, facing away from the blue eyes to push cotton over wire. But after hanging another garment, you sighed, head over shoulder to lock your gaze once more.

"Am I entertaining you?" He hadn't replied until you'd finished, your body turned to face him fully, eyes locked onto yours as he shrugged, a crack of the candy between his molars. "Never done it." He commented nonchalantly, picking another sweet from the bag. The rustling lasted a few seconds before he was back to eating, a dramatic exhale from his nose. "That's cause you were a trust-fund baby." Walking toward him, your bare feet tapped against the tiled floor as you brought an arm upward, fingers outstretched and sight locked onto the bag within his hand. Just before you'd been able to dive a hand into the plastic, he moved it to the side, leaving your fingertips bare.

"Feisty for someone who's living in my apartment." He commented, blue eyes narrowing as he watched you roll your eyes yet admit defeat through your gestures, instead flopping down on the chair beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, eyes wondering to the window above the sink - the only window within the apartment that hadn't been covered by curtains and allowed some semblance of light to cascade through. Although you'd appreciated this, there had still been some annoyance to the reminder of the outside world, and how you'd been unable to step foot within it.

The fifth day, you'd finally brought yourself the courage to ask.

At the table during breakfast, the opportunity had arisen in which you had both men seated with you, coffee situated before each body. "Can you bring me shopping today?" The request would likely be denied, a faint memory of Geto's obvious distrust and worry that you'd be seen and captured if stepping foot outside. But, you'd hoped that being on the outskirts of Tokyo, you were unlikely to be recognized, and with both men beside you, you'd be well-protected. Perhaps the idea had been completely idiotic, and when met with Geto's stern expression and furrowed brow, you'd understood the likelihood had been slim to none.

"Well," Gojo had began first as expected, the less stern presence easing your anxiety. "We're meeting Sukuna first-" "She's not coming." Geto had been quick to shoot the idea down before Gojo had allowed a semblance of hope to form. He stood, bending over the table to gather the plates from breakfast. As he leaned across, his shirt had lifted upward, revealing a handgun against his stomach that he'd had tucked into his trousers. You hadn't allowed your sight to linger too long on the weapon, though it had crossed your mind when pleading with him. "I'll keep my hood up, please Geto-san." You bowed your head, squeezing eyes closed while trying desperately to find an excuse. Swallowing back your pride, you continued. "I need tampons."

You hadn't looked up until you were sure Geto's expression would have softened, though when returning your gaze upward, he'd been visibly taken aback, eyes wide and lips parted. "Whaddya say Geto-san?" Gojo's added emphasis on the term had caused you to outwardly cringe, a reminder of one of the lower moments in your life. "Be quick." Short and spiteful, yet the words you'd wanted to hear most. You'd fought to hide the growing grin across your face, undeniably shocked by the permission you'd been granted. Gojo laughed at the display, hand languidly laying itself upon your shoulder before giving you a light shove. "Get your coat, sweetheart."

When approaching the pink haired Ryomen, you'd expected a foul expression, rant, or some form of physical punishment - yet instead he'd remained still, face unreadable. He'd been leaning against broken brick, cigarette in hand, pushing himself from the back-wall of some run-down establishment to stand upright. Seeing him like this had feared you more - Sukuna wasn't one to be lax over broken rules. There would be a significant reason he hadn't reacted to your presence.

"She insisted-" Geto had began his defensive speech, though had stopped when Sukuna had raised a hand with the shake of his head. Holding the half smoked cigarette had been bloodied fingers, cuts decorating pale knuckles. "Probably better she's here for this." The words had your chest tightening, drop within your stomach when your gaze lingered over the wounded hand, being left to imagine the face that had been on the other side of his fist. "They've got a bounty on you. Saying we owe them money - the Zen'in's own you now."

There hadn't been long to process his statement as he'd taken a step forward, another drag of his cigarette through stiff lips. "They've got Toji on her."

Although you hadn't understood the weight of this comment, you could feel the men beside you tense, a quick glance toward Geto telling you all you'd needed to know. His skin had paled, and eyes widened.

"Are you armed?" The question had added mass to your shoulders, a realization that your freedom had been coming to a close. Toji would have to be bad for all three men within your vicinity to be uncomfortable.

"Sukuna, we can't-" Eyes watering, you'd traced over the handgun tucked within your waistband, metal cooling trembling fingertips. "You can't do anything. This is it."

Sukuna shook his head defensively, quick to begin a bitter reply and deter you from a path of righteousness. Though, the pop of a gunshot had taken stage before he'd had a chance to stutter more than a syllable, hands flying toward belt. Your fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon you hadn't intended to use as you searched the alleyway for a body, adrenaline fueling your faster reaction time. Two men had stood at the entrance, the taller of the two aiming his own pistol in your direction. As he took steps toward you, the sunlight had hit his face, revealing a tilted smile, lips kissed by a thick scar.

"Hands up, pretty girl." His voice had been rugged and deep, teeth bearing as he'd awaited your movement. You'd hesitated before raising both hands, persuaded only when his friend had taken a step forward, shotgun between his hands aimed toward Geto, who had been stood closest to the alley's entrance.

"Toji. She's not armed." Sukuna's monotone voice didn't waver as he'd glanced at his allies. He'd hoped his lie would pass - you could sense his tension if the other's hadn't. "Ryomen. This your cousin?" Toji exhaled in amusement. "Been looking for her. Healthy bounty on your head, kid." His laughter had been entwined with malice, blood running cold as you'd met with green eyes.

"You hate the Zen'ins. What changed?" Sukuna had asked, though had been shut down through Toji's quickfire response. "Money's money. Hand her over, 'n we'll let you live." He'd used his left hand to usher you toward him, jagged smile increasing the panic you'd felt frozen by.

Sukuna had withdrawn his own weapon, and Toji's expression soured at his movement.

It had been a split second decision.

You pulled your pistol from your jacket, aiming toward Toji's chest and pulling trigger. His eyes had widened in shock as he'd stumbled backward, wounded. It hadn't been fatal, though enough to stun him as your barrel aimed toward his partner. His body had fallen backward much faster than Toji's had, a clear display of you accuracy. Before the black haired half had time to react, you'd ran, left hand instinctively grabbing hold of Sukuna's wrist.

Only when Sukuna had slumped against the kitchen table, drops of blood dripping over the aged wood, had realized he'd been wounded. Your eyes set over the bullet hole in his bicep, a crimson patch darkening his jacket sleeve.

"You were shot?" Your concern had been evident as the question had came to fruition through a concerned shout. He'd smiled in amusement, a gentle shake of head and pained laugh through chest. "When you shoot someone who's aiming a gun, they'll pull the trigger." There was a tightness in his voice as Gojo had pulled his arm through the final layer of clothing, revealing the injury over skin. Geto had already placed a few items over the kitchen table, latex gloves stretched over hands after pushing his sleeves back, inspecting the wound.

"Satoru, tourniquet." With Geto's voice quiet, Gojo disappeared for a brief few moments before re-emerging with a tie in hand, wrapping it over Sukuna's upper arm and pulling it tightly. "You're lucky that Zen'in had started to stumble before he shot, or you would've had Sukuna killed."

"Zen'in?" "He doesn't like the name, goes by Fushiguro. But, he's a Zen'in." Gojo explained while taking a seat at the table. Sukuna had leaved forward, wincing as a needle threaded through the wound. "And, you're lucky there was an exit wound." Geto had added to the statement. "Though, your quick thinking likely saved one of us - so thanks, I guess." It had been obvious that the gratitude had pained him to say, though you'd accepted it anyway.

"Do you think they'll find me soon?" You questioned, picking at the hem of your shirt as Geto finished the stitching. The fact you had little control over the outcome of both you life and your allies lives had irked you, a heaviness residing in your chest. "It's likely they're already narrowing it down - Toji will tell them what he knows if they offer him enough money." "You should just give me over, Sukuna. Get the money." A half joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Though, when the tired, annoyed eyes had met your own, you'd realized the words had only hurt him more than intended.

"What if you returned home with a husband?" Getou's abrupt inquiry had caught you off guard, but you considered the scenario nonetheless, fighting the urge to question why he'd asked, instead manifesting an educated answer.

"My father would have him killed." You spoke with a sourness, eyes remaining to cling to the floor. His attempts at a solution mirrored thoughts you'd had over the past week, though no fix had been found. The only options you'd had were to remain in hiding, or to accept your future as a Zen'in, benefiting everyone other than yourself.

"What if you married someone they couldn't kill?" His suggestion left you dumbfounded, a muddled flurry of stutters as you'd exhibited your confusion to his ask. "Good luck finding someone powerful and willing to marry me."

A person the Zen'ins couldn't touch would be a rarity within this world. Now your name had been made known to them, your place as a pawn in the Ryomen and the Zen'in's game, there had been an impossible chance of escape. You were raised purely for the benefit of your clan.

"I know someone." Geto's comment pulled you from your thoughts, another bought of self-deprecating laughter and rolling eyes shot toward him. There had been a glimmer of hope within your mind, yet you wouldn't display it to the men before you, instead residing back into refusal to protect your own ego. If you'd taken his words as banter, you would suffer less pain than to cling onto the premise of false-hope.

"Satoru." Geto stated, gesturing to the pale, white haired and blue eyed friend beside him. Gojo's reaction had reflected your own; bewilderment. The brunette glanced between the two of you as you'd remained in mutual silence, awaiting his explanation. "Satoru, think about it." Your eyes met Gojo's briefly before he'd returned his attention to his friend. "You'll be in her position soon - the strongest of you family and heir of Six Eyes; do you think your father will die before you give him a grandson to continue the business?" His theory had weight to it, but you brushed him off, watching Gojo's expression change from confusion to thought. "Geto, come on-" You began, voice gaining his attention.

"I'll do it." Gojo spoke through upturned lips, both gazes returning to settle over his face. "I couldn't turn down the opportunity to mess with affairs that weren't mine to begin with - and fucking with my family is an added bonus." His playful grin paired with the prospect of being legally bound to him had sent heat through your body, mouth ajar while you'd lost yourself within the vision of a wedding day between yourself and Gojo Satoru.

"Gojo, this is serious." You began, narrowing your expression when looking into his own. "This is your future on the line." You took a sharp breath inward. "Not to mention, marrying me would mean having children down the line-" The rant had started, and Gojo had allowed a playful smirk to etch over his features. "I'd be happy to fu-" His interruption was much to your distaste, the unwanted suggestion causing your stomach to churn. "Use your brain for a minute and think about this as an adult!" The sudden outburst caused his eyes to widen before relaxing, mouth still curved upward as he leaned into the back of his chair. "I've already decided, sweetheart. We'll go to the registry office tomorrow - Suguru and Sukuna can be our witnesses."

For a marriage planned with less than a day prior, it had been executed with ease. The four of you had been brought into a small room, a registrar stood to your left as you'd taken Gojo's hands within your own. As he'd held your fingers between his, a cheap ring Sukuna had sourced from a nearby jewelers slid over your finger, you'd swallowed back your anxieties and listened as he'd recited his vows.

You'd repeated the action, his calloused hands maintaining the gentle contact between your own as you had spoken much more timidly than he had. Though you'd done so with some reluctance, you had looked into his eyes as you'd repeated after the registrar, a fluttering in chest. Even if this wasn't real, nor was it love, there was some form of excitement within your fear. Though, you wouldn't tell a soul.

After only ten minutes, you'd left bound by law' a much larger meaning within your families than to yourselves. From this day forward, you were to be labelled as a Gojo. You had expected that crippling weight to ease as you held the wedding certificate in your palm, yet somehow, it had just changed into a new anxiety.

You had gone against your parent's wishes, as had Satoru, and for that, you knew there would be a cost.

reblogs and comments help creators more than just liking <3

a/n: after posting the teaser for this in MARCH, i have finally finished it!! i hope you enjoyed :,) i'm putting tags below, i'm so sorry if you forgot about this and are confused by the notif !!

tags: @ritsatoru @tomiokas-lunchbox @outrofenty @cherryblossiren @thisbicc @obitohno

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fredwkong · 1 year

Text

The Prep Watch

When you first came home wearing the Prep Watch, we laughed about it. You were even the one who coined the name. You’d been at work downtown, busking and selling your punk CDs, when some preppy white boy in a Ralph Lauren polo and chinos ran up to you and smacked a Rolex or something onto your wrist.

You looked like the last person who would wear a Rolex. Every bare bit of skin was covered in tattoos, to the point that it was hard to tell you had Hispanic heritage. You had piercings all over your face and body, and you kept your hair in a neon pink mohawk. You covered up your skinny frame with heavily patched jackets and loose, distressed jeans. As the epitome of a punk, such a fancy watch stuck out like a sore thumb.

We laughed about it for a bit, and then I took a closer look. It was nice, probably gold-plated at least. “Dude, you should totally pawn it,” I told you. Our finances were…precarious, to say the least. Pawning something like this would cover, like, a week’s worth of groceries.

But you looked down and furrowed your pierced eyebrows. “I dunno,” you said, suddenly sounding far away. “I mean. It looks nice, right?”

“Definitely,” I said, assuming that would be the end of it.

But when you hopped into bed next to me that night, the Prep Watch was still on your wrist.

By the next week, it was definitely really weird. I mean, you only took the watch off to shower. But when I told you that you were being strange, you just said, “Yeah, but it looks nice, right?”

It was like living with a pod person.

I bet you thought I wouldn’t notice when you switched underwear. It was such a subtle difference, trading Walmart boxers for those fancy boxer briefs. But, I mean, I tidy the bedroom. I saw the patterns in the underwear drawer. At the time, I thought it was sort of cute. A hard-ass punk wearing underwear with a cuddly duckling pattern on it.

Little did I know.

It probably felt like temptation, the desires you were experiencing as you kept on wearing the watch. You’d be out in the city, busking the afternoon away, watching all those preppy city boys walk past in their pastel sweaters and fancy slacks. Knowing that underneath all your gear and piercings, right on top of your tattoos and your Prince Albert, you were wearing the same underwear. Did you miss any notes? Did your voice crack as you lusted over some fucking preps?

I was so confused when I found some of your more obvious piercings in the bathroom trash bin. You loved your nose rings, and we’d gotten our helix piercings together. Hearing you say that they just weren’t your thing anymore made me feel like slapping you.

I considered leaving you, you know. I could have walked out that day and left you at the mercy of whatever fucking bullshit was happening to you. But at that point, I had the crazy idea in my head that this wasn’t you. It was the Prep Watch that was doing this to you. So, like an idiot, I stayed, and tried to come up with a way to get that damn Rolex off your wrist.

One day, you came home and told me you’d gotten a corporate job. “May as well use that Economics degree,” you said, even though we’d burned our diplomas together a couple years ago. When you said, “It’s just until my music picks up,” I think we both knew you were lying, but I nodded anyway. Under your leather jacket, I could see you were wearing a polo shirt.

The next day, you got your hair cut. You hadn’t been maintaining your mohawk anyway, but it was a shock when you got home with a head of short brown curls. For some reason, it looked like it was growing in blond at the roots.

By that point, did you already hate your own music? You kept busking once or twice a week for a month longer. I think it was just for appearances. When we went out to gigs, I noticed your smile was kind of tight, like you were just there for my sake. The only times I saw you really grin anymore was when you were putting on your damn work shirts or staring at that fucking Prep Watch. I swear, you got a boner in your stupid preppy boxer briefs whenever you looked at that thing. “It looks nice, right?” you said to me, admiring the watch on your wrist under your cufflinks.

I couldn’t get the watch away from you. You only took it off to shower, and we’d stopped showering together. I bet you’d taken out all your body piercings already. Christ, they probably came off before your visible piercings, trying to hide it from me. What kind of a boyfriend— Whatever. What you were really hiding was probably how cleanly all your piercings had healed.

Yeah, don’t give me that shit about good wound care. I know what a healed over piercing looks like, and your lip has never been pierced. I mean, I know the watch is magic now. Your tattoos were fading even before you went and got them lasered off. I saw the disgust on your face every time you looked at your neck tatts in the mirror. No man’s skin gets pale like yours got. Everything cleared up.

Do you like being so much smaller? Softer? You used to be lanky and lean, now you look short, soft. Pastel. How many fucking pastel clothes can one man own? Pants, shirts, sweaters, socks, hats, fucking pastel purses! Man bags, what the fuck ever. Just a little curly-haired blond prep with perfect white teeth and a perfect little office job. Do your coworkers even know about what you used to be? They probably think you’re about twenty, with that boyish look on your clean-shaven face.

You really wanted to go to the carnival, and, I mean, you were paying most of the rent at that point, so I went along with it. For some reason, I still thought that I could separate you from that watch and everything would just… go back to normal. Who knows? Maybe if I’d found a way to separate the watch from you that night, they would have. You still remembered who you were, then. Your keyboard was covered in dust, sitting in the corner of the bedroom, but it was still there.

But as we watched the lights on the ferris wheel, you a short little pastel boy with a single demure piercing, standing next to a lanky punk covered in tattoos and wearing a patched jacket, you checked the Prep Watch. I watched as your eyes shone in the light reflected off the watch face, and with a swirl like smoke, they turned from brown to blue. You nodded to yourself and undid the watch.

“Want to try it?” you chirped at me, reaching toward my wrist.

I ran.

I think that I thought I could get back to our apartment and clear my stuff out before you got back. But I was on transit. You owned the car. I really thought I’d made it when I saw the lights off in our window. I unlocked the door, crept inside…

There was barely a rustle as you emerged from the closet and clapped the watch onto my wrist.

And now here we are. I’ve been talking for a while, I guess. I just had to get all of that out. I wish that I could just stand up, walk out, take off this watch. What I really wish is that I had just up and left when I saw the way this was going. I'm afraid that I'm about to lose myself, the way you have. I miss my boyfriend. But now here we are, and I’m wearing the Prep Watch, and, well…

It looks nice, right?

#male transformation #mental change #reality change #race change #male tf #preppification #twinkification #twink tf #clothing tf #gradual change #white tf #all fwkong

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silverbirching · 1 year

Note

Hello you have my dream profession. How did you get to where you are today?

Well you're in luck, my friendo! I can give you a pretty step-by-step process. First off, the baseline qualification for what I do is finding and completing a Graduate Gemologist program. I personally graduated from the Gemological Institute of America -- find out more here. GIA is international (I don't know where you're located) but I know there are other organizations that offer similar programs.

By going through this program, you'll learn a great deal of terminology, get a look at the industry, and receive a smattering of history and geology--hilariously, I can talk your ear off for hours or days about pegmatite formation and kimberlite pipes, but have a fourth-grade knowledge of plate tectonics--but mostly what you'll learn is how to correctly identify gemstone materials, grade diamonds, and spot treatment and synthetics. These classes can be done remotely but generally require a couple of in-person lab classes that last three days to a week apiece. They're not super expensive as vocational programs go, but they are eligible for financial aid and there are scholarships available.

(There is a final exam and it is a nightmare. Don't let it discourage you. If my ADHD-having ass could pass it, so can you.)

I was lucky enough to meet a Master Gemologist Appraiser early in my career who was able to give me a lot of guidance. I'd suggest seeing if there's an ASA (American Society of Appraisers) gemologist in your area, and reaching out to them! I'm sure they'd be delighted to talk to you, and give you advice and guidance. You can find one in your area here.

(again, assuming US. I can probably point you in the right direction if you live elsewhere, just lmk)

Authentication is a little bit trickier -- as of yet, there's no program that I know of that specializes in teaching you how to tell real from faux. I recommend on-the-job training at a pawn or consignment shop, which is what I did. I can spot a fake Cartier LOVE bracelet or Rolex Submariner across the room at this point. There's nothing for that except immersion.

My final and, honestly, most important piece of advice: get out into the industry. Work at a jewelry store. Work at an auction house. See how the market actually works. Expose yourself to brands and styles. Ask questions! Most of the time people will be delighted to talk to you. Cruise Sothebys. Buy coffee table books at your local used bookstore. Continue to poke at me on tumblr. Knowledge is everything in my weird little niche.

Remain Sparkly,

-S

#ask a gemologist #resources #gemology #GIA

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whatthefuckugou · 1 year

Note

what was the madison show like?

tldr: it was a good, funny show, but half the content on the Netflix ver. just wasn't there & it was more awkward and sad

there were screens showing the stage looking exactly like the shots you see in any netflix special, I had to make a constant effort to focus on him cuz the screens made it easier to see but I'm here for the real guy, dammit! unlike a netflix special, I had to use my ears instead of subtitles. so that sucked.

his openers took longer than expected, and the white one did in fact make a joke about "after being married to my wife for x years, I understand why her parents abused/hit her"

baby j himself did look noticably worn & tired & sad, I assumed it was just Life since his prev stuff, but after seeing the ideal intended version of baby j on Netflix I'm pretty sure madison wi was an off night.

he didn't have the song at the beginning where he mentions bo burnham at all

the audience interaction w a kid to say don't do drugs was so painful and stilted to watch

nor did he do the entire anecdote about pawning the rolex!!!! that was the best, watching that for the first time had me falling off the couch howling laughing

the rest of the act was the same - the GQ interview was the funniest bit by far.

the most unique part of the show was when he gave us an encore at the very end: the salt and pepper diner.

the story of his life seemed more real and raw than on netflix. white it was funny, he wasn't quite as successful at playing it off for laughs because it didn't seem like he was enjoying himself.

the encore was great but left a weird feeling in my mouth. when he did it he performed it how he used to, and it felt like he was actively mourning having changed as a person. fun throwback, but very sad.

I'm hoping the lines in the feb boston version addressing his style change (and attributing his energy before to The Drugs) means he worked through that.

he was clearly much more confident in his act 7 months later. it makes me happy to see him doing better.

#i'm glad i went #esp since i was 17 and went alone after helping griff move in woohoo #but never agai dude #im a cheapskate i can wait for the online release if I'm gonna be watching the screen the whole time and struggling to hear the words #itd only be worth it to go with prime rich people seats #which will not be happening if I have anything to say abt it #also can i say i hate ticketmaster? this was my first ticketmaster event and I want it to get sued silly. yes again #john mulaney #baby j john mulaney #baby j live

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x-heesy · 2 years

Text

𝗠𝝝𝝝𝗗 𝗕𝝝𝝠𝗥𝗗 🦄

𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗧 𝟰 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗡

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝝠𝗬 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗡𝗗𝝠𝗬

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗬 𝝠𝗦𝗦

𝗜 𝝠𝗠 𝝠 𝗗𝝠𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗛 🎧💃🏽🕺🏼🪩🚀💥

𝗚 𝝝 𝗗 𝗜 𝗦 𝝠 𝗗 𝗝

ΓЯДCҜФFΓHΞDДУ:

You know, this is a piece out there somewhere

That he just wants to go out to the party and him

And there, he takes various drugs out there, somewhere

And something out there somewhere

But, that's not what the piece is about

It is more about how young people from big cities

They organize their time, don't you understand?

Drugs are not the most important thing

Yeah, it was like that, Your Honor, I left the house at 9

The plan was clear, the rave on Smolna Street, I ate one Rolex disc right away, the pink one

I took a pawn with a friend, he had a bag of coke with him

Hop, I took out the eel and went my way

I felt something, that I did not feel anything, I threw a second Rolex disc

The pink one, and the idea came to my mind to spice up a bit more

Eat acid after ecstasy and complete some cool phases

I got on the subway for cabats, because my diller has a cabin there

He hides the extra merchandise in the cabinet, and also the vinyls next to it

There are so many of them that he could normally play as a DJ somewhere

I'm smiling all over, my heart is beating faster and faster

I want to hug a passenger, not very pretty to be honest

But she, scared, does not allow and gets out

On Stokłosy, a tense guy is glaring menacingly, a fight is already in the air

Suddenly it says louder, Tolin, so I head to the exit

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

Well, you know, and then he says he goes out of this subway, no and ...

And already on this subway there,

Well, and there was such a situation

Dramatically to let you know

Platform empty, as is the balance of the account, the flight is full, so on 102

And there is a canary on the stairs, a ticket please or a card

Oops, my wallet is in a house, there's only cash in the trowel

I darken that like a blind goalkeeper, he catches nothing, I sneak out with one move

Something like Steven Seagal, I run as hard as I have in Scotch

I know the streets in the area, tangerines in a few minutes

There my diller is waiting for me, jaw tight

I throw a hundred to him without a word, Hoffman pulls up on his bike

And the lights in my head dance like in a kaleidoscope

I think to myself, it's so good, let the toe never end

As if to anger, the doorbell brings me down to earth in no time

A few indented guests enter - Alkofajki, dull laughs

On the clock in half to 3, it's high time to curl up like a tortilla (like a tortilla)

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

Instead of going down the wild elevator goes sideways - left, right, right, left

The pumpkin is bursting, it is a terrible torment, fortunately, there are remnants of coca in the pocket

I hope it will bring me upright, I have to stay level

So far I am retreating, and plans also include Smolna

I pour the goods straight into my nostrils, as if he took it away with his hand

I get up from the field, we are not all how rich

I take my phone to order some Uber, I look, my friend, I write, write

Where you are? Beautiful sounds flow on the dance floor

Hammer your brother on the dance floor, the wood will crack stiffly

I look for a white Skoda under the cage

I'm a bit cold in the middle of December and my driver is late

I want to get a rat for a turkey and to keep me high

I hit the lines without burning, then the Insignia pulls up here

A policeman jumps out of it and that would be it

Who plays warm, who plays closing

Because I have to chase to Smolna Street

I'm waiting for a taxi, but ...

You know what ...

I am a criminal? I'm under arrest?

Really, gentlemen, this is a misunderstanding

I, I don't limit it

It's not like ...

Your Honor, I'm not really an addict

I just like to play, I have a permanent job, I pay taxes

Roadworthy car, OC, AC, Office package is not foreign to me as well as English and French

And that sometimes I will take lines or there are good things

Although I wear tracksuits, I read Prust and I do not start fairy tales in the club, I do not grab women by the bottom

I bow to the old ladies in the waist and lead them through the belts

She segregates her own and neighbors' rubbish

Let the Court believe my intentions, I promise I'll be polite

I do not want to go to prison, I will do everything in my power not to take anything else, God forbid

But I am begging you, there is a chance that I will make it to the closing, because Nucas is playing on the patio

#panicdynamicpandemic #trackoftheday #gifattack #gifmania #moody #edm #electronicmusic #shakewhatyamamagaveya #raaaaven #electroshockboogie @kattywompuss @boanerges20 @badbavarian @newmethilammina 😂👈🏽 #dancemfdance #partymusic #lostinmusic #thankslordformusick

Feng Shui by BOSTON

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csquaredbranding · 1 year

Text

Burberry Analysis: Insights from ChatGPT and Max

It was interesting to see the response from ChatGPT on the topic of which luxury brand is least likely to be harmed by counterfeits. Its initial feedback was that it was hard to select one brand but that the main characteristics of brands least susceptible to attacks are those that have made it hard to replicate their products or implemented other security measures such as hologram stickers, microprinting, or dedicating the resources to tracking down counterfeiters. Other factors mentioned were quality craftsmanship, a strong heritage, innovative design, limited distribution channels, and a loyal customer base which were in line with Burberry’s transformation in the case.

Examples of brands that fit this criteria, according to ChatGPT, are Gucci, Chanel, Rolex, Hermes, and Louis Vuitton. Although I agree with the qualities mentioned, I disagree with the LLM’s assessment of Gucci and Louis Vuitton as their bags have repeating patterned logos which are easy to replicate and of which I have seen many counterfeits. Of course these are luxury brands, higher on the fashion chain than Burberry, but not necessarily less vulnerable to competition.

I would also like to comment on how the Burberry case relates to my Branding Lab project on the upcoming merger between HBO Max and Discovery Plus. At the turn of the century, Burberry needed to contend with appealing to dissociative groups: older, more conservative types vs. younger, more hip consumers. Similarly, Warner Brothers must think strategically how it will meld the “classier, more discerning” HBO Max viewer with the “casual, reality-driven” Discovery Plus subscriber. Perhaps Max can begin strategizing which shows on either of the current, separately branded platforms can complement each other in an attempt at “cross-selling”. For example, after someone watches an original HBO Max historical drama, such as “The Gilded Age,” their next suggestion for viewing could be “Pawn Stars” as both shows appeal to history lovers.

It is also interesting to note that Max’s tagline of “The One to Watch” hints at the “premier” value it is trying to preserve from HBO. Hopefully, like Burberry, it will live up to the hype and balance both content quality and quantity, appealing to a variety of consumer types.

#2023MITSloanBrandingSB

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the-luxury-hut · 3 years

Text

#loan against rolex #pawn my rolex #pawn rolex watch #pawnbrokers london

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goldencashuk · 4 years

Link

#pawnbroking loan #pawnbrokers essex #Pawnbrokers Romford #pawn my rolex #pawn my watch

0 notes

jewelerdavie-blog · 7 years

Link

Are you interested and wanted to sell your Vacheron Constantin in South Florida? Davie Jewelry and Pawn can help with that too. Looking for a Vacheron Constantin loan in South Florida? Since 1979, Davie Jewelry and Pawn has helped thousands of customers with the Pawn, Collateralized Loan or Sale needs.

#pawn rolex #pawn cartier #sell cartier #sell rolex #sell my cartier #pawn my cartier #sell my rolex #pawn my rolex #cartier pawn #rolex pawn

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Note

Hey there! This request is based on the photo u reblogged for MMIH maybe one of Tom's enemies came to their house or office and trying to threaten him and our guy is with complete swag, thn his kids come running to him and he sends them back and is like "so where were we?" Sry if this is too specific 😅😅

This pic screams MMIH Tom. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Match made in Hell (series)

He rules the city

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : none

The atmosphere in the room is tense as Tom sits on his expensive leather chair with a glass of whiskey in hand, the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the soft yellow light of the room. The very image of him reeks of triumph and power. In front of him sat one of his old enemies turned allies from his initial days in the mob, Arnold Mathews. Harrison is also present in the room sitting on the nearby couch keeping a watchful eye on Arnold and his men.

“This isn’t a fight or debate,” Tom told Arnold curtly, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips. To be honest Tom is the one who is doing a favor here by hearing him out on the first place even though he has no desire to do so. He let go everything of his past life to start afresh and he has zero interest to fuck this up by digging up some old graves for the sake of old alliances. No way he is going to allow them to use him as a pawn in their fight with the Gambino's. The stakes would be a lot more higher this time with you and the kids and he isn’t going to risk it at all.

“We had a deal and it will benefit both of us, Tom,” he reminds him as Tom puts down the glass on the table smacking his lips while Arnold continues “you don’t have to do anything but give me that part of your territory,” Tom leans on the table with both his elbows, his expression unreadable as he stared at him coldly making him lower his voice “only for a little while, just so we can strike first. You’re closer to the Gambino's. You don’t want your men to be involved in this, so what other choice do I have than to do it myself?” he squeaks out the last sentence intimated with the intense gaze Tom was looking at him.

“And how are you going to do that?” after a brief silence Tom asks.

“Your men are positioned between Bath and Bristol, give me that area so that I can take his men down” Arnold starts to speak terms “we’ll take them all down at the same time and any man who stands against us will be killed. It’s simple either join us or die like the rest of them”

“I’ve heard this all before,” Tom mutters. Tom had to grow up witnessing the whole rivalry with the Gambino's even though his dad ultimately won but a lot of lives were lost all in the name of greed for more power and territory.

“Just give me access to that area and the suppliers for the guns” he sounds desperate as he adds, “that’s what you agreed to before you left everything!”

Tom starts to get slightly irritated not liking the commanding tone of his voice as he starts to weigh the options of killing each and every one of his men in the room. It wouldn’t take much time moreover Harrison is here with him and he knows he could hold his own.

“You want me to back down, clear the path for your men?” he asks him.

“They’ll never see it coming if we take them from both your side and mine. We attack them on the border of your territory—” before he could finish Tom cuts him off.

“Yeah and then he’ll think it’s me who is behind all of this. When he gets the news of his men dying around the borders of my territory, he’ll come after me without a second thought!” he slams his hand on the table agitatedly “this isn’t me starting a war, it’s you!” he lashes out and just then the door busts open as everything falls silent.

“Daddy!” the room is filled with squeals and laughter as Nate and Leah come running into the office. Tom’s angry demeanor softens immediately and he turns his chair allowing both of them to climb up on his lap.

“Hello my loves, how was your day at school?” he asks with a wide smile.

“Good!” they answer together excitedly.

“That’s nice but where is your mum?”

“Mom is in the garage,” Nate replied. Well that explains their unannounced entry because you would never allow them anywhere near this room. You must have been busy parking the car when these two saw the chance and slipped out. Tom notices Nate and Leah looking at Arnold and his men with a frown on their faces. You both had decided to keep them away from all of this as much as possible though sooner or later they will come to know but for now it’s better this way.

“Well you see dad is a little busy with work right now so I’ll carry you back to your rooms and you wait for your mum ok?” he proposes.

“Ok daddy” they both nod. Tom stands up holding them in his arms and as he walks out of the room he is met with you at the staircase.

“There you are” you heaved out a sigh of relief “didn’t I tell you guys to wait for me? And—” you paused peering inside the room to see Arnold and his men “oh I’m so sorry I forgot you had a meeting. See this why I tell you not to come into this room without my permission”

“It's okay, darling. Nothing is more important to me than my little angels” he kisses them on the top of their foreheads “now go to your mum and as soon as I’m done with work we’ll build the new lego set I bought you” he promises as you take them from his arms and carry them to your room.

Tom goes back to his office, shutting the door behind him he asks “so where were we?”

“Tom, you really need to help us out” Arnold tells him with all sincerity.

“No I can’t and now you may leave” he says sternly “Harrison show them the way out”

“No, wait!” Arnold bangs his hands on the wooden table “what if... ” he swallows thickly as he stands up and clears his throat before looking Tom in the eye “once I take over the Gambino’s territory, we could split it.” Tom perks up at the proposal as he gives a small head tilt signaling him to continue “I want to start flooding the product in the market nearby the port area to keep the cops off our backs”

“I don’t see anything relevant in splitting the bloody damn thing” Tom let's out a humorless laugh.

“I only need his business, that's all. I don’t even have enough men to keep a check on the rest of his territory,” he says in a comical tone as if the problem’s already been solved.

“I’m sorry but I’m not interested in expanding anymore territory,” Tom states firmly, crushing away the last bit of hope Arnold had, “but I’d be happy to take a percentage of the profits” he adds “twenty percent of every quarter”

“Deal” Arnold agrees to it instantly, a small smile appears at the corner of Tom’s lips. To this day Tom always has his way in the end even Arnold’s own men stare at him in astonishment. They also know this whole deal is stupid and only Tom would end up profiting because an even-numbered war never ends well. They’ll need extra men to fight the Gambino’s but Tom will give him none. He only wishes they kill each other off like this he will hit two birds with one stone.

“Deal,” Tom says with a tight lipped smile as he outstretches his hand for a handshake.

Meanwhile you were in your room sitting in the middle of the bed with Nate and Leah sitting on either side of you.

“Mommy, who were the scary people?” Leah asks innocently, gripping on the sleeve of your blouse.

“Yes mommy I did not like them too” Nate tells you.

“Oh don’t worry my pumpkins they are no one, just some people daddy used to work with before” you say with a light shrug “you don’t need to be scared of anyone or anything ok? Mom and dad will always protect you from everything” they nod as you pull them closer to your chest caressing the back of their heads as a line of worry creases on your forehead. When Tom decided to leave the underworld you both knew it wouldn't be an easy job severing all the ties. There will always be someone popping up from time to time with some unfinished business. And now that the kids are growing up they also have started noticing things and asking questions out of curiosity. You don’t want the shadows of those horrible days to even touch them but the question is for how long? How long will you be able to protect them from his past, from your past?

..................................................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #mob! tom #mob! tom holland #dad!tom #tom holland imagines

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting.

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks.

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching.

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret.

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful.

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done.

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics.

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs.

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress.

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever.

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items.

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important.

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises.

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #the red banquet

523 notes · View notes

blackacre13 · 2 years

Note

Can you do a part 2, well I guess it’s part 1 of Lou and Debbie Breaking the bed.

Part "one" is here; and here's part "two"/the prequel:

“You guys get a new bed?” Constance asked. “What? Did you have to break it in half to get it through the doorway?”

Tammy paused as Constance’s question rang unanswered in the air.

“You didn’t,” Tammy gaped.

“Shit!” Nine laughed, strolling in through the door. “You two are mad crazy. You break that shit?”

“Leslie,” Amita hissed, walking in beside her and flicking her. “That’s so rude.”

“Come on,” Nine laughed, pushing her away playfully. “It’s Lou and Debbie. They have no shame.”

“Alright, alright,” Debbie sighed. “We broke our bed having sex. It happens.”

“No,” Tammy shook her head. “It really doesn’t.”

Prequel:

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Debbie whispered, walking her middle and index fingers down the blonde’s shoulders and collarbone as she tried to curl herself into a ball, trying to hide underneath their comforter as the brunette chuckled, shaking her head. “What if I make you some tea?”

Lou groaned an incoherent response that made Debbie giggle, her fingers moving to trace circles against Lou’s skin instead.

“We could go to the farmer’s market? That one you like on 3rd. Or we could try that bagel shop we passed the other day that wasn’t open yet.”

There was nothing but a half-snore, half-hmph noise from her partner, blonde fringe splayed out across the pillow.

“Pawn shop? Record store? Thrift shop?” Debbie tried, really trying to focus on things that were so artfully Lou, the blonde couldn’t try to say no to them. “Baaaaby.”

Still nothing.

“I’ll buy you a Rolex,” the brunette sighed. “A new bike. Vintage jewelry? I’ll go bring Bowie back from the dead. See what Debbie Harry is up to and if she wants to come over for tea.”

“Deborah, I swear,” Lou whispered, her eyes squinting half open as she practically growled.

“What if I strip down naked and just sit on that pretty face of yours?”

The air was silent for only a beat before Lou was shooting up, her eyes wide and her lips faltering as Debbie let out a snort at just how cartoonish her partner looked in her frantic movement.

“Go back to that last one.”

“Tea with Blondie?” Debbie teased.

“Something about you…all naked…your wet pussy on my lips,” Lou breathed, her voice raspy and thick first thing in the morning, now with a tint of lust.

“Just had to make sure you were paying attention,” Debbie shrugged, rolling back to her spot against her pillows as Lou shot her a look of disbelief.

“I don’t want to go to the farmer’s market,” Lou whispered, rolling towards the brunette as she kissed her slowly.

“What about Bowie?” Debbie asked, breaking the kiss as she looked up at the blonde.

“Fuck Bowie, I want you naked.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“Go right ahead,” Lou smirked. “I’ll be right here Fucking my fiancee.”

“Yeah?”

“Want you dripping all over my face, honey.”

“Fuck,” Debbie groaned, moving her leg so she could grind against Lou’s thigh, heat already stirring through her as she started to work herself against the blonde.

“Want my cock inside you. Fucking you hard.”

“Lou,” Debbie gasped, her breath hitching as Lou hitched the brunette’s leg higher, nails digging into her skin as she encouraged her to roll her hips further against her, moaning with appreciation as Debbie’s rhythm picked up, her breathing only pants.

“Fuck, Debs,” the blonde cursed, her fingers trailing against Debbie’s underwear. “You’re already soaked. How long have you been thinking about me touching you? Fucking you? These are ruined.”

“I’m dripping for you, baby,” Debbie whispered, running two fingers through her folds before slipping them through the blanket and up towards the blonde’s mouth, pushing them between her lips as Lou closed her eyes, sucking them. Hard.

And then something feral took over, the blonde sitting up suddenly, ripping off Debbie’s t-shirt and shoving her panties down as Debbie gasped, pushing the brunette up against the headboard as Debbie clung to it, her fingers going white as she grabbed it for support, Lou’s fingers thrusting inside her immediately as her legs shooting, crying out as she did her damndest to keep herself upright, part of Lou’s grip on her disappearing and then suddenly Lou’s fingers were gone and before Debbie could turn around to question her, Lou’s strap was thrusting into her as she fell against the headboard with a bang, something creaking beneath them that only seemed to spur the blonde on more.

Lou’s hands were digging into Debbie’s hips now and she thrusted into her with a vengeance, Debbie’s hands on the headboard as she gasped, one of Lou’s hands falling on top of hers, gripping it hard, the headboard shaking, the frame of the bed creaking as Lou pounded into her, Debbie crying out as the blonde smacked her ass.

“Do you have any idea how Fucking sexy you are?” Lou hissed, her hand coming down against Debbie’s ass once more. “Can you hear how wet you are for me? Tell me how good I Fuck, you honey. Tell me how good my cock feels.”

“Fuuuck,” Debbie cried out. “Lou, baby. Shit. Daddy, you feel so good. You Fuck me so good, baby. I—shit—I—“

“Come on,” Lou hissed. “Go ahead and come for me, pretty girl. Come all over daddy’s strap so you can clean it off me. Go ahead and—“

A sickening crack suddenly snapped, Lou grabbing Debbie protectively as they shifted slightly sideways, but Debbie hardly seemed to notice, pushing back against the blonde as she came with a loud cry, shaking against Lou as she tried to catch her breath.

“Did we just—��

“Yeah,” Debbie laughed, still trying to catch her breath. “I think we did just.”

41 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

intellectual guesswork.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: another ajf update that requires absolutely no context to enjoy! i love you all so much. send some extra love to your favorite writers this week :)

one quick thing - if you’re on my taglist, please consider dropping a reply or a reblog! i love to see what you all think, and it encourages me to keep going :) it’s also getting a bit long, and i want to make sure my mutuals and people who engage are seeing everything - tumblr sometimes has a hard time with a lot of mentions.

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “ignorance of the law excuses no man - from practicing it.” - addison mizner. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? edited: january 12th, 2021

You all settle into one row. Aaron’s on the end beside you, looking very sharp in a crisp black suit, his favorite Rolex, and a settled kind of confidence you’ve only seen in him a few times. It’s like he’s in his natural habitat.

Aaron’s record as a federal prosecutor speaks for itself, of course, but you’ve never seen him in action. As often as they can, the bureau’s leadership sends him in as an expert witness. This time, the case happens to be one of yours. The judge hasn’t required a sequestration for Aaron, so you get the treat of sitting together in the courtroom.

He’s scoffed and mumbled snide remarks under his breath all morning. You’re just itching to see him get up on the stand and give this joker an education.

Emily leans over, whispering in your ear. “I promise you’ve never seen anything like this before. Hotch is going to rip this clown to shreds.”

You stifle a laugh and look over at Aaron. He heard her. Leaning toward you, he murmurs, “All my JD does is collect dust. When I use it, I’d like to enjoy it.”

“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call our expert witness, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, to the stand.”

He takes a breath and rises, buttoning his suit jacket and crossing the courtroom. His presence commands respect and everyone in the courtroom seems to shrink before him.

The prosecution’s questions go over smoothly, and the defense attorney stands with an unreasonable amount of confidence.

Emily leans over. “He thinks he can get Hotch with at least one of these questions, and he might. But just watch.”

You nod, taking everything in.

“So you’ve stated that it was your profile of the killer that led you and the police to my clients door that night.”

“Behavioral analysis was a factor in our investigation, yes.”

Without hesitation, the attorney follows up. “And was behavioral analysis also a factor in the Olympic Park bombings case in Atlanta?”

“Yes, it was.” Aaron’s eyes and tone never waver, no hint of arrogance or cheek.

“And was that suspect you identified,” the attorney asks, far too aggressively, “Richard Jewell, ever convicted of the bombings?”

The prosecution objects, and you watch Aaron. Every part of him observes the proceedings with an outwardly detached interest, but his eyes are alive - strategizing and anticipating. It’s like you can see the wheels turning as the lawyers bicker.

The judge ends the squabble. “I’ll allow it.”

Aaron, now with permission, answers simply, “No, he was not convicted.”

“Because he was innocent. Your profile led you to the wrong man.”

Oh, give me a break. It takes everything in you not to scoff and you can feel Emily’s eye roll.

“Jewell was not the perpetrator, but if you look at the real Olympic Park Bomber, Eric Rudolph, you’ll see that our profile was dead-on.”

Dead-on indeed, Aaron.

“Well, how about we look at the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was Black and from the suburbs.”

Aaron’s eyes narrow and you feel Spencer shift beside you. Emily shakes her head. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “He always recovers, never in the way you’d expect.”

“How do you know?”

Emily’s face pulls into a little smile. “I’ve read the transcripts. Hotch is terribly clever.”

“You said that Dennis Rader, the B.T.K. Killer,” the attorney continues, “was divorced and impotent. He turned out to be married with two kids.”

JJ huffs, and you hear her whisper to Spencer, “Can we quit with the sermon?”

His lips turn up. “Just wait.”

Dave leans over and stares them down over Derek. Stop talking.

All of you look down at your hands like chastised children, but your gaze floats back to Aaron right away.

The prosecution objects again, this time on the grounds of preaching. The judge forces a question, and the attorney turns back on Aaron.

“Having been wrong on those cases, isn’t it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff?”

“No.” Your chest squeezes. He’s completely firm in his denial.

How does he do that?

“Fact is,” the attorney continues like Aaron didn’t speak at all, “behavioral analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.”

“Objection!”

Her outburst is unnecessary. Aaron has a plan. His eyes track to you as if to check in. Are you paying attention?

If you weren’t watching before, you’re certainly watching now. Always.

“Withdrawn.”

“Charcoal grey.” His flat assertion makes you gasp and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound.

The attorney turns around. “Well, look at that,” he exposes his socks to the court, and they are, in fact, charcoal grey. “He got one right.”

Aaron’s not finished. “You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you’ve had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you’re frugal, but in fact, you’re having financial difficulties.”

You do your best to school your expression and remove your hand from your mouth. Checking down the row, you see six smirks watching the witness box.

“You wear a fake Rolex…”

And you’d know.

“...because you pawned the real one to pay your debts. My guess would be to a bookie.”

Is he smiling?

“I took this case pro bono.” There’s tension in Mr. Charcoal Grey’s voice. You can hear it behind the false confidence and it pulls a smile from you. “I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state.”

Hotch continues, completely bypassing him. “Your vice is horses.” There’s definitely a little smile on his face now. “Your Blackberry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results.” Your smile gets wider, and Emily grabs your hand.

“Just watch.”

“And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you’re not having a very good day.” There’s something that looks almost like concern on Aaron’s face, but you know it’s nothing if not facetious. He’s ripping this poor man to shreds without changing a single thing about his presentation.

I love -

Don’t finish that thought.

Why not?

Remember how he’s freshly divorced?

I know, but have you seen him?

“That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law -”

You lean forward and Emily follows, her thumbnail between her teeth.

The final blow.

“- by always taking the long shot.”

If this was any other setting, you’re sure the entire team would be on their feet, shouting and jeering. But alas, you’re in court, so you settle for a wide smile and a suppressed laugh. Amused brown eyes meet yours from across the room and you shake your head just the tiniest bit. I can’t believe you.

His lips twitch.

“Well, you spin a very good yarn, Agent, but as usual, you’ve proven nothing.” He’s just trying to recover something, anything left of his dignity. He fails, miserably.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Aaron says, his eyebrows raised just a little, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

Just then, his Blackberry buzzes on the defense table. “Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?”

You raise your hands to your face to cool the rising heat in your cheeks.

“Your honor, this is - “

The judge takes matters into his own hands. “What do you want me to do? Either show us your Blackberry or cut him loose, counselor.”

Hotch and the defense attorney share a loaded look. It’s a battle of wills.

Aaron wins.

“Nothing further.”

+++

When you all leave the courthouse, you practically latch onto Aaron’s arm, completely floored.

“How did you do that?”

He laughs and Derek jumps up beside him, shaking his shoulders. “Come on, Hotch. That was incredible.”

“Why have a law degree if you aren’t going to use it?”

+++

He offers you a ride home later that evening and you take him up on it. You’re both still in the car, idling in front of your house.

“That really was impressive today,” you admit, your eyes on your hands.

You can feel his soft smile rather than see it. “Thanks. I know it didn’t quite go the way we wanted as far as the case itself, but there’s more to come.”

“It’s never as bad as it looks in the first couple of days.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Thanks again for being there today. It’s…” his lips twist as he thinks, “nice to have the team around.”

You reach out, squeezing his forearm before immediately letting him go. “Of course. We’ll always be there for you. Plus, there’s nothing better than watching you tear blowhard lawyers to shreds in a court of law.”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it went.”

“You’re kidding!” You laugh. “That’s just what happened. The man left without half his soul! You absolutely tore it from his body.”

The pair of you quiet, and you move to get out of the car. He stops you with a hand over yours as you unclip your seatbelt. “Really. Thanks for being there today.”

“I can’t emphasize this enough - it was my pleasure.”

Enough of a pleasure as it was, his smile in the dark of the car is the best part of your day.

+++

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