#there is no law that says you can only do one in your lifetime. I can do as many as I want it’s fUN

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?” 

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before. 

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind. 

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.  

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink. 

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away. 

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?” 

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping. 

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad. 

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too. 

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway. 

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway. 

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.” 

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply. 

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours. 

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water. 

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him. 

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys. 

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable. 

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.” 

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.” 

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it. 

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way. 

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand. 

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening. 

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv. 

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

 His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.” 

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

[sytoran]

𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

the aftermath of your mindblowingly hot sex with the goddess of lust, natasha romanoff. as it turns out, no one escapes the consequences of their actions.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: once again, howdy, folks! this is the even longer-awaited part 2 to the goddess!nat fic! i am terribly sorry for the wait, hopefully this long chapter will satisfy your needs :)

word count: 3.0k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously...

You, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. The Goddess of Lust, Natasha, granted you one wish as a repayment. You could've had just about anything, but turns out all you need is right in front of you.

Spoiler: It ends up in mindblowingly hot sex with a certain Goddess.

Now, two months later...

"Baby…" Nataha sighs, her eyelids fluttering close as you move under her sheets. 

Or, more specifically, as your tongue moves in her cunt.

There's just something about giving the Goddess of Lust the best head of a lifetime that does it for you. Maybe it's her stupidly sexy moans, or the way she twisted her delicate hands into your hair, or maybe just how sweet she tasted.

Or, maybe, it's the knowledge that you're the only one who can ever make her feel like this.

"Please, oh, fuck," Natasha whines, as you move your tongue in tight little circles against her sweet spot. Not quick enough to make her cum, slow enough to make her feel.

"Oh," she whimpers, hearing the lewd sounds of you eating out her soaked pussy on a Saturday morning. You shift under the blankets, breathing hard as it gets warm.

Worshiping the Goddess as you rightfully should was perhaps your favourite pastime, driving her wild with your fingers and your tongue and your cock.

Which is exactly what you felt throbbing in your pants when a hushed whimper of 'Daddy' falls from Natasha's sweet mouth. Your head spins at the title, just like the first time she had ever called you that.

It was half by accident, really.

On a private rented beach in Malibu, with miles and miles of space and no one else, there you laid under the shade of a palm tree, thrusting into the Goddess with a youthful vigor.

"Oh, you feel so good," Natasha cries, scratching her long nails down your bare back. She shakes with each of your thrusts, melting into your touch like your forgotten ice cream in the Malibu sun.

"Do I?" You tease dangerously, both of your orgasms dangling close to occurrence. "Mhm- Oh, yeah," Natasha responds with a lewd moan, moving her hand down to play with her clit.

That's all the extra simulation the Goddess needs before she's tumbling over the edge, clutching onto you as pound into her cunt.

"Oh, I- Oh, please, daddy!" Natasha shrieks when you harshly pinch her nipple with your free hand. It does wonders for her pleasure.

But as soon as those words fall from the Goddess' lips, she retracts like she's been scorned. You halt your movements.

"Did you just call me daddy?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, as Natasha looks away flusteredly.

"...No."

"Darling."

"No! I mean, well yes, but I didn't mean to!" She tries to move under your grasp, her cheeks turning an incarnadine pink.

You take her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, and use the other to still her moving hips. The Goddess pouts at you, but you know better than to give in.

"Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone 'daddy'?" You ask seriously, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame.

"It's complicated." Natasha states, squirmimg under your inspective look. She trails her hands down to your cock again, but you deny her of that pleasure. "We're not done here, sweetheart."

"Fine," Natasha grumbles. "That's the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

"Oh," you say softly, tracing her rib with a ginger finger. "I think I quite like it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, daddy."

"Shut up, sweetheart."

"Make me."

What pulls you out of that blissful reverie is Natasha's whine. You're not in Malibu anymore, you're under Natasha's sheets. 

Even then, you've never felt more fulfilled with this glorious woman by your side.

"Why'd you stop?" Natasha asks, pulling the blanket away so she can see you.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss onto her inner thigh. "Thinking."

"About?"

"You."

"Oh," the Goddess replies, evidently flustered. 

"What were you thinking of?" she then says, flirtatiously. She adds on the charm of batted eyelashes, prepared for whatever you might do to her body.

What Natasha wasn't prepared for, however, was the tenderness in which you regarded her with, a serene smile and a warm glow on your face.

"What is it?" Natasha says, laughing awkwardly as you litter kisses all over her stomach. You're glowing, sickly-sweet and dumbstruck.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you, Natasha Romanoff. I love you not because you are the Goddess of Lust but because you have the most brilliant heart I've ever had the chance to feel. I love you for everything that you are, everything that you're not. I love you for your bed hair, and your goofy jokes, and your brilliant green eyes I could melt into a thousand times. I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us. And you don't have to say it back, but just know-"

You take in a deep breath, not realizing that you've spoken so much with quavering breaths like you'd die if you didn't profess your love. Like you'd die if you didn't bare your heart to Natasha. You gulp for air, stroke her face. "Just know I love you. So much. So, so, so much."

Oh.

There's silence, afterwards, like the world has stumbled on its axis and the stars have collided. 

Natasha looks at you with an indescribable feeling, like her heart wants to burst out of their seams. It's only when you gently stroke her face that Natasha realizes there are tears on her face. 

Why's she crying? Why do you cradle her in your arms with such a ginger tenderness? What did she ever do to deserve this kind of love?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed it," you mumble, almost ashamed. You press another kiss on her bare stomach as an apology. "I'm-"

"No, I- Fuck, I love you too." The Goddess voices hoarsely, her shaky tone a far cry from what should be expected of a regal Goddess. "I love you too," she says again, with more confidence, almost as if it would make the words even truer.

That stupid smile is back on your face again, even wider than before. Your cheeks hurt and Natasha's heart melts. 

"You love me?" you ask earnestly, and there's such an innocence and genuineness to your question that Natasha almost cries again.

The impact of 'I love you' sinks in. Natasha feels.

She's never felt like this before. She's never loved like this before.

Finally, in the sacred silence, Natasha whispers. Scared to ruin the moment. Scared to tarnish what could be.

"To every universe and back," the Goddess answers, and your world starts orbiting again.

—

Ever since that fateful day of your love confession, the two of you were inseparable. You would look at Natasha with such wonder in your eyes, wonder what you ever did to deserve this, but the Goddess would look at you the same way, and you knew everything would be fine.

She would take you to any universe you liked, across any dimension. From earth-bound lands to intergalactic islands to space. It was as vast as her love for you.

But, you were riding that high with no heed for the consequences of your actions. 

You were foolish enough to stay with Natasha, dumb enough to drown out the warning signs, blindsided by the prospect of loving a Goddess.

You should've known, from the start, that you and Natasha were a race against time.

You should've known that it would end up in flames for you.

You should've known better.

—

Since the very day she was born the Goddess of Lust, Natasha had her life laid in front of her.

To exploit that thrall she was given, to seduce men and the occasional woman, to live above and beyond because she was a Goddess.

That had been her life for over decades, sitting comfortably at the top of the chain on a gold throne; Toying with hearts like it was a daytime hobby, then shattering them like glass. 

She slept around for the hell of it, just because she could. Just because she was the Goddess of Lust.

Then came along a stupidly charming attorney with a coffee stain on her suit and the most unusual request.

Just like that, her world stopped revolving around what she was supposed to do, and it started orbiting around you.

And, you, were definitely not what Natasha was supposed to do.

Despite how incredible you were in bed. Despite the plethora of orgasms you had brought her to. Despite how she felt her walls to her heart tumbling down around you.

When the two of you shared that passionate confession of love in bed on that fateful Saturday morning, the Goddess knew she was done for.

Which is exactly why she's currently under the scrutiny of Supreme Headquarters: Intervention of Extraterrestrial Liabilities Directorate, aka SHIELD, aka she's completely and utterly fucked.

SHIELD was essentially the Gods and Goddeses' version of a monarchy, that was infamous for its cruel ruling and cutthroat decisions.

"You're a smart girl, Natasha, and never would I have expected something so childishly foolish to fall from your lips."

The Goddess stood in defiance. Despite all her power and her status, she seemed so small in the wide hall, paling in comparison to the mighty Gods that surrounded her.

That previous statement had been made by none other than Wanda, the Goddess of Magic. The woman was a stature of power and composure in her throne, hand poised under her chin like it was a medieval painting.

"I'm not a girl," Natasha snapped at the Goddess, fire behind her eyes. "And I'm very capable of making my own decisions, despite how foolish they may seem in your condescending point of view."

The Goddess of Magic was irritatingly unfazed by Natasha's outburst, flicking that poised hand and in a dismissive wave. God, Natasha wanted to crush that stupid hand.

"Steve, talk some sense into her. I can't bear to hear any more of her senseless arguments." Wanda said offhandedly, looking over to the God of Justice for support.

Natasha wants to retort that she isn't just spewing senseless arguments, but a warning look from the God of Justice shut her up. Of everyone in SHIELD, he was the most likely to give her a fair hearing. Hence his name.

"Natasha, we're not saying that you're incapable of making your own decisions." The blonde man reassures, pressing his hands together in contemplation. Natasha breathes harder than she should be doing.

"We're saying that what you're doing isn't the best," Steve continues, and Natasha is grateful that the eyes are not on her anymore. The God of Justice had a presence that simply demanded respect, an impeccable aura that no one would dare deflect.

"Sleeping with someone not godly is one thing, but entering a romantic relationship with a mortal, a human being, is simply…"

"Unacceptable."

Natasha intakes a short gush of air harshly at the interruption. It's Thor, God of Thunder. For a God who had lived centuries, he was painfully traditional. Narrow-minded, even.

Thor's loud, booming voice carried throughout the hall, from his electric-blue throne at the far corner. Mjolnir, his trusty hammer, was held in his big hands with a firm grasp. Natasha forced herself not to feel threatened.

Thor continued, firm and hard and oh so unforgiving. "Do you want to end up like my brother, Goddess Natasha?" 

At that, the entire hall was silenced. The only thing Natasha could hear was her own sporadic breathing.

Everyone, undoubtedly, knew the story of Thor's brother.

Loki, the God of Mischief. The fallen angel, some said. The devil's incarnate, others whispered.

He had used his power for wrong, abused his status to commit the darkest things imaginable. It wasn't before he was banished from the land of Gods, never to be seen again.

Some say he's still clawing his way out of hell. Some say he's destined for a lifetime of hurt.

"Don't you fucking dare compare me to him, Thor," Natasha growls, and the larger blonde man even seems taken aback by the ferocity behind Natasha's words.

"I- I think what Thor is trying to say," Bruce frantically cuts in, in an attempt to mediate the situation. 

The God of Science was a bespectacled man with quirky mannerisms, ever the peacemaker. Logic, to him, was most important of all.

"Is that you, Nat, are a Goddess," Bruce continues. "An all-powerful being that transcends the laws of space and time. You have been blessed with such power, such strength, unfathomable to lesser beings. And Y/N L/N, this earth-bound creature who lives and breathes on the very ground we carved, couldn't possibly be who you want to run off with. I mean, we- you, you're so much more than that."

"You're going to love her, Nat? Give her your heart? You, an immortal being? She's going to die some day, inevitably, and then what will be left of you? A broken, desolate mess, grieving for the rest of eternity?"

Natasha swallows harshly. She wanted to despise Bruce, hate his reasonings and refute his logic – but she couldn't, could she? He was right. Bruce was right.

But there was a part in her heart that screamed, yelled, kicked - she couldn't give you up, now. Not when she'd finally found what she's been searching for. Not when she can feel again.

Not when she's found the love of her goddamned life.

"I'm on Nat's side," Tony says, mouth full of a pink-frosted donut, slicing through the tensed silence. He spews crumbs as he talks, but Natasha doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for the man. 

Tony was the God of Heroes. Brilliant but brash, proud yet arrogant, charismatic and eccentric. He was a God no one could explain in few words, and for that Natasha was immensely grateful he understood.

"True love cannot be broken," Tony says, folding his arms. "It transcends all else, goes beyond our social status and our physical capabilities and who we are as individuals. If Nat has truly found it, then who are we to judge? It shouldn't be criticized, it should be celebrated!"

Natasha locks eyes with Tony, in silent thanks. The two of them may butt heads at times due to their self-righteous natures, but in the end they were always there for each other.

However, the rest of the Gods didn't seem to quite agree. There was quiet murmuring amongst themselves until Steve began speaking again.

"Let's settle this with a vote. If majority wins, Natasha will be able to continue her pursuit of a romantic relationship with the human and mortal Y/N L/N. If not, Natasha will be forced to cut off all ties with said mortal and they are to never see each other again."

The Goddess of Lust felt her heart clench. Of course Steve would choose the fairest way to determine Natasha’s fate. Of course this would result in a losing battle for her, based on the prior reactions. 

“All those in favour of the disallowance of Natasha Romanoff’s and Y/N L/N’s romantic, physical or any other relations, please raise your hand.” 

Thoughts of you swam in Natasha’s mind, of you smiling while kissing her hand, stroking her hair while she fell asleep, trailing kisses up her spine on sinful nights.

Thor’s hand went up first. 

“I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us.” That was what you had said that Saturday morning, with a serene smile, so gentle it caressed Natasha’s heart. She remembers the warm glow of the sun, the temptations of paradise, the falsehood of the promised land.

Wanda follows suit.

How could Natasha have let it all succumb to this? Why had she let herself grow so soft and malleable around you? The walls around her heart she had spent so long constructing was so easily taken down by you. You, who wormed your way in and made a nest in the center of her universe.

The next hand that goes up is Bruce’s, albeit with an uneasy look from the man, like he didn’t want to be there anymore.

Maybe she shouldn’t have dived headfirst into love with you, professing her feelings so vulnerably. She was the Goddess of Lust, not Romance or any of that bullshit. A long-lasting relationship had been a childish fantasy, much less for someone who was meant to constantly seduce.

Like a final seal of her demise, Steve’s hand goes up, and only then does Natasha realize the tears that have fallen from the corners of her eyes.

There is a deafening silence that follows the grounding decision, and even Tony doesn’t look so aloof anymore. He’s the only one at the table who didn’t raise his hand. 

Natasha swallows harshly, in an attempt to calm the building pressure within her.

She swallows again, willing the tears in her eyes to go away - no way in hell would she openly cry in front of the Gods who put her in this situation.

This time, she wishes the ground would swallow her up instead, to whisk her away from this nightmare of a reality and wake up beside you once more.

“You have until sunset to settle things,” Steve says, a painful lack of emotion in his eyes. “If you don’t coincide by the rules, you know what consequences you will have to face.”

For the first time in an eternity, ever since unknown creatures roamed the multiverse and there was no difference between dark and light, the Goddess felt helpless. 

Even then, there was only one thing on her mind.

How the fuck was she going to tell you that ‘To every universe and back’ had been a bloody lie?

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv

ok i’m literally so tired while posting this ‘cos i just got out of a seven-hour flight like yesterday, but i reallyyy wanted to post this because i haven’t posted anything in so long. anyways I HOPE YOU LIKE THE LORE and just a recap for everyone before part 3: 

anyways it’s all set up for more angst and hardcore smut (yes i promise that is in part 3)

natasha - goddess of lust

carol - goddess of galaxies

wanda - goddess of magic

steve - god of justice

thor - god of thunder

bruce - god of science

tony - god of heroes

y/n - basic bitch

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #goddess natasha

[mm-lurking]

From the distance - Blade

Since he never made an effort when you tried to befriend him, you gave up and stuck to your own business. Yet somehow, he’s there when you find yourself in trouble.

A/N: Another fic where I just want Blade to be my knight in shining armour. Once again written when I was sleep deprived for several nights straight. The best ideas do come when you are out of your mind fr. No idea where I was going with this tbh, I just kept writing. Sorry if it's ooc and kinda dragged out! I tried to write him as well as possible. Warnings: Blade x fem!reader, some violence, blood and tension between you and Blade. NPC with a CN name, I'm not sure if I used the Chinese name the right way? Apologies in advance if its wrong! WC: 4754 --- Another night at the Xianzhou Luofu. Another meeting with the Stellaron Hunters. In contrast to the calm night outside, Blade impatiently taps his feet as he glares at the door. You’re supposed to be here in the room ready to begin the meeting. Kafka is supposed to be here too but that’s not the point. The point is you and where you are. Some time passes by and the door slowly creaks open. He snaps his head around hoping it's you- only to see Kafka. The tiny glint of anticipation fades away quickly and his usual stone face replaces it, but it is not quick enough to slip by Kafka.

“She’s not going to be here Bladie.”

Kafka chuckles as she walks in and takes a seat at the table. He glares at her.

“I did not ask.”

“You didn’t ask about her indeed, but your face betrays you.”

He scoffs and looks away in the distance. The woman observes him for a moment and smiles.

“She had another meeting to attend urgently. Took me by surprise honestly. She came running here two hours ago hastily explaining herself and apologising before running off again. How amusing.”

Her eyes do not leave Blade’s face as she talks. In her lifetime of working with him, never had she seen him so…agitated over a mere mortal. A mortal he claimed he didn’t care for or wanted to associate with. Another chuckle leaves her lips and she waves her hand dismissively.

“Well since it’s just the two of us we can postpone the meeting.”

She gets up from the chair and turns around to walk away only for Blade to stop her.

“Kafka.”

“Yes?”

“Who is she meeting?”

She places a hand on her waist and smirks. He says nothing more and continues staring at her face waiting for an answer.

“I thought you said you didn’t care?”

“Kafka.”

His tone suggests he is in no mood for jokes. She sighs and shakes her head.

“She’s meeting Mr Li Qi.”

“..?!”

Kafka observes his startled expression and pretends to be clueless as she taps her finger on her lips. She knew what she was doing of course.

“What’s the matter, Blade? You look like you’re in deep thought.”

“You knew she was going to Li Qi and let her go on her own?”

Kafka shrugs.

“Why not?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks straight into her eyes.

“You know how dangerous that man is.”

“Oh come on Bladie. She’s more than capable of handling him. After all, she was the one who approached him first.”

His eyes grow wide momentarily before returning to normal. Several thoughts are running in his head but the main theme is along the lines of how stupid and foolish you are. Li Qi, a businessman on the Luofu was notorious for his shady practices and downright unethical behaviour. To the common folk, he was a simple successful businessman but to those who had intel on him or many connections across the Luofu, they knew of his true identity and what dangers lurked in associating with him. He was cunning enough to protect himself and the business from the eyes of the law while simultaneously maintaining his illegal proceedings.

“You didn’t attempt to stop her even once?”

Blade’s voice is laced with concern and disbelief as he replies.

“Why should I? Who are we to interfere in her plans? We are not saviours.”

In contrast to her unconcerned-sounding words, her face is the complete opposite. She displays a small smile, intently watching Blade to see what he would do.

“…”

Silence fills the air. There is a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the entrance door.

“You should have told me earlier.”

He says calmly as he suddenly stands up and walks towards the door, taking long strides as if he urgently had to leave.

“Whether you decide to protect her or not…it is all part of Elio’s script.”

The way she speaks is as if she was merely watching the pawn move in a game of chess, already aware of every move that was going to occur. He freezes on the spot as he realises.

“You already knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

He turns around to look at her and she shrugs, completely avoiding the question before continuing.

“There is a warehouse at Stargazer Navalia where Mr Li Qi frequents. If I am correct, she must be there right now.”

There is nothing more said between the two as Blade nods and opens the door before he walks away in a fast-paced manner. When the door shuts close Kafka stares at the door for a moment before laughing.

“So much for not caring huh? Oh, Bladie..”

—

You could tell something was off since you stepped foot into the warehouse. There were several red flags actually. One, Mr Li Qi asked to meet you in this warehouse instead of a commonplace like the restaurants in Aurum Alley. Two, you weren’t here to look at the items of interest yet so you shouldn’t be in a warehouse in the first place. Three, the silence of the meeting point and how it was conveniently hidden away in a deserted side of the Stargazer Navalia.

You weren’t a fool though. You had purposely walked into this trap well aware that there was something oddly peculiar about this man. Something about the way Mr Li Qi looked and the suspicious tone of his messages told you he was a man worth investigating. You weren’t from the IPC nor were you a Stellaron Hunter, but you sure had made a name for yourself amongst the natives in terms of commissions and business.

Perhaps that is why Mr Li Qi was so delighted to meet you when you first sent a request to meet him. Perhaps that is also why there was a gun pressed against the side of your forehead. The cold barrel, in contrast to your sweaty skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell me miss, surely you didn’t take me as a fool?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You reply calmly but groan when the gun is pressed harder into your skull. Mr Li Qi is standing behind you with a harsh grip on the back of your neck as he uses his right hand to firmly point the gun at you. You scan your environment to make sense of the danger you’re in. The long eerily hall of the warehouse has almost no inventory; a few boxes of odd things lie around and there are some cardboard boxes stacked over in the corner. They are probably meant as a cover or to fake the appearance of a warehouse. There aren’t many men of his around either, just two bodyguards that currently stand in front of you to prevent your escape and a few other men in the far distance at the door standing like statues.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about? Is that so?”

He mocks your words and grits his teeth. You feel another chill run down your spine.

“Do you take me as a fool miss? I am fully aware of who you are and what you do.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. I collect antiques for fun and that’s why I approached you.”

Lies. You were praying he wouldn’t realise you were lying through your teeth. You weren’t here for antics, you were here to investigate a fraud he had committed. One of your family friends had been caught in his traps and this sly fox was able to avoid all legal charges by hiding documents and falsifying testimonies. Having no hope left, the family friend had turned to you for help and considering your ties with them you agreed.

“How peculiar of you to approach me instead of the many, many antique collectors out there. Your interest in the jade pendants of the Xianzhou is very uncalled for considering your job status.”

You gulp. Shoot. No pun intended.

“Who are you to judge my interests Mr.? Especially if it brings you money?”

You retort and immediately regret it when the gun goes off with a loud bang.

-

His breathing is heavier than usual as he finally reaches Stargazer Navalia. The veins on his neck have not stopped popping from how tightly he has been clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. A flurry of insults goes through his head as he thinks of you while he simultaneously searches for the warehouse. There is no time to rest as he dashes through the tall steel container boxes and small bridges frantically searching for you.

“…?!”

In the distance, he hears the sound of a gun going off and freezes momentarily before whipping his head around to see a large warehouse a couple of meters away. The description of the warehouse fits what Kafka had told him and he dashes towards it. Was that…? No, it can’t be, he shakes off the negative thoughts as he aggressively pushes against the large wooden doors with his body. The lock from the inside breaks into two from the strength he exerts and the doors swing open, revealing several men ready to fight and four figures in the dim light further away.

“Who goes there?!”

Li Qi shouts from the other end, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty warehouse. There are hints of anxiety and anger in his words but Blade says nothing. Instead, he pulls out his weapon and slashes his way through the men guarding the door, injuring them swiftly and easily as they drop on the floor like dead flies. One of them tries to grab onto his leg and he stomps on the guard’s chest, making the guard scream in pain. He sneers.

He takes longer and faster strides as he approaches where you are and your figure becomes clearer with each step he takes. A small sigh of relief leaves his lips as he realises that you’re still alive. The look on his face is deadly with his eyes ablaze and he glares at the two bodyguards blocking him from your view.

-

Eventhough you are not one to be afraid of danger, the gun going off right next to your head has you shaken up. The vibrations of the gun ripple through your skull and you can feel a headache setting in. Lucky for you, the gun lacks bullets as you’re clearly still alive after he pulled the trigger. Li Qi mumbles a bunch of insults under his breath as he attempts to refill the bullets only to stop as the warehouse doors open with a loud thud. Both you and your captor flinch at the unexpected event, confused at the commotion by the door.

You hear Li Qi yell but you don’t register what he says. Your eyes are on the figure that violently makes its way through the appointed guards of the warehouse, like a tornado destroying everything in its path as it gets closer to you. It is when the figure stands in your line of sight do you recognise -it is Blade.

“Bla-“

He looks at you immediately when you call out to him in a raspy voice. Unfortunately, Li Qi prevents you from finishing his name as he cocks the gun and roughly handles you making you wince. Blade’s grip on his weapon tightens trying to control the urge to cut off the man’s head on the spot. In contrast to your situation, Blade notes that you look calm for someone who is in the hands of death.

“Shut up or I will put a bullet through your head”, Mr Li Qi seethes. “You are lucky I forgot to replace my bullets- wha-?!”

A loud slash resounds in the air as Blade can no longer stand the nuisance and brandishes his weapon in front of the bodyguards causing Li Qi to quiver. He gives the men no chance to prepare for how rapidly he makes use of his sword, cementing his prowess as a swordsman once again in front of you. You close your eyes not wanting to see the bloodshed as a chill goes down your spine hearing the clashing of swords and grunts of the bodyguards. Before you know it, it’s just you, Li Qi and Blade left in the warehouse. The loud groans and whines of the guards fill the air as their wounds hurt. There are streaks and splashes of blood all over the floor but none of that bothers Blade however as he stands in front of you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and your captor.

“D-do not take another step! Or- or I will kill her!”

Li Qi panics and screeches as he points the gun at your saviour and then back at you. All you do is flash a tiny smile at Blade. You’re tired, exhausted and the bruise forming on your neck and now the side of the forehead hurts. The willpower you had at the beginning of the situation has started to waver as you feel stale and unable to turn the tables. And with a splitting headache that only seems to get worse, you don’t have the brainpower to think either. You watch how he continues to look at you silently with eyes that carry concern and anger.

“Let her go.”

Blade states firmly. It is not a request, it is an order. The businessman looks visibly shaken from how his men are lying on the floor and the threatening command of the Stellaron Hunter. Instead of obeying, he frantically runs his mouth again.

“You, I know you! Aren’t you the guy that the IPC wants?! You’re a criminal yourself, how dare you tell me what to do?!”

Blade scoffs. You gulp, knowing this won’t end well. He says nothing and simply repeats his warning.

“I said let. Her. Go.”

You know he is not talking to you but somehow you’re starting to shiver in fear too. This man has always avoided almost any interaction with you yet here he was, asking your captor to release you with such a menacing aura. This side of him was so rare and frightening to see that you were silently praying you would never have to see it again.

Li Qi refuses to comply and Blade hmphs before drawing his sword once again and striking the arm of Li Qi. It all happens so fast that you barely have the chance to move as the blade whizzes past your ear and hits Qi. The gun drops from his hand on the ground with a loud thud as he wails in pain, clutching his injured arm with the other. Blood is trickling down his hands and arms and it splatters on your shoes. You stand there for a while stunned at what’s going on only to be brought back to your senses when Blade grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest.

“Huh-? Oh-!”

It takes you a moment to register your position. Your hands have subconsciously gripped his coat to steady yourself and his free hand is loosely hanging on your lower back. You can’t see his face from this position but you can hear his loud heartbeat and the way he takes slow deep breaths. He smells like blood and the finest mix of musky perfume, a scent you are unfamiliar with but still welcome. Suddenly you find yourself feeling flustered and awkward and try to pull away from his body only for his arm around you to tighten.

“B-blade?!”

Li Qi is still yelling and wailing behind you but being in Blade’s arms has somehow blocked it all out, like a magical shield that is keeping you safe. Your own heartbeat starts to increase as his crimson eyes meet yours and he maintains eye contact without breaking away.

“Fool.”

He finally speaks and you are baffled.

“What?”

“You are incredibly stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is your hearing impaired?”

“My head is aching very badly, thank you very much.”

What the hell is with this man?! You scowl at the way he talks to you. You no longer want to be in his arms anymore and use your strength to push yourself away but to no avail. Frustrated you smack his chest grumbling at him.

“I’m ok now, can you let me go? Sheesh.”

As you both are bantering, behind you, Li Qi stumbles to grab his gun from the floor. There is a cruel smile on his face as he lifts the gun, points it straight at the back of your head and presses the trigger.

“…!”

Blade’s eyes suddenly narrow as he pushes you into his chest once again and hauls his weapon up to cover your skull just in time. You gasp as the bullet ricochets off his weapon with a loud shing leaving you stunned. You tremble in his arms from the impact, trying to process what just happened.

“Close your eyes.”

He says gently and you obey. All you hear is the sound of his blade being hurled at the businessman and an ear-piercing scream that makes your blood curdle. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. 

“Keep your eyes closed.”

He commands you and you nod. You feel the loss of his body warmth as he detaches himself from you and walks towards the businessman. Li Qi is lying on the floor with the sword piercing his chest as he gasps for air. He attempts to grab his gun again which is a few centimetres away from his fingers only for Blade to stomp on his hand and kick the gun away from him. You flinch at how the businessman screams.

“Holding an innocent hostage is a greater sin than mine.”

Blade says as a matter-of-factly and removes the sword from his chest. Another nightmarish scream rings in your ears and you open your eyes from the discomfort you feel. You don’t even want to turn around and see the state your captor might be in. Blade walks back and faces you, frowning when he sees your eyes open.

“I told you to keep your eyes closed.”

“I-I tried-“

“It doesn’t matter. Do not look back.”

“Okay..”

You reluctantly listen to him, feeling extremely uncomfortable at how the situation has evolved. A moment of silence passes before you speak again.

“Is he…dead?”

You watch him look behind you and hmph before replying.

“If he isn’t now…he will be later.”

“But if he dies…I will be implicated..”

“No one knew about your meeting except Kafka, Li Qi and I, correct? There should be no issue then.”

“Blade that’s not how it-“

“You nearly died.”

Blade says coldly and you feel your heart drop.

“I nearly died yes, but this-“

“Why are you so complicated to deal with?”

“…what?”

Now you feel anger bubbling in your chest.

“I was not the one who asked you to barge into the warehouse by the way.”

You hiss at him and he glares at you.

“And you expected to survive? Alone in this warehouse?”

“I don’t see why that bothers you.”

“Your foolishness will get you killed one day.”

“Even if it does, how does that impact you? Not like you want me around anyways.”

Your head was pounding, the bruises on your neck and forehead stung, you were fatigued and shaken up and this man was simultaneously insulting your intelligence and capabilities. Of course you were agitated. Blade stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“How it impacts me has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“He would have killed you easily.”

You press a hand against your forehead and take a deep breath. Why was he arguing with you?

“It is I that will be in deep trouble if Mr. Li Qi dies, not you or Kafka regardless of who knew about our meeting. I have a reputation to maintain unlike you. And by the way, I did not need you to save me. You don’t even care about me and frankly, you don’t even show an ounce of cooperation when I try to work with you.”

You take a step closer to him. Tears brim in your eyes as you express your frustration.

“If my death were written to be tonight,” you look him straight in the eye, “it wouldn’t change a thing in your life. In fact, I am sure you would be glad of my riddance.”

Audacity flows through your veins as you jab a finger in his chest with each word you speak. Tears stream down your face and your throat closes up from the emotions that swarm you.

“So don’t tell me how to feel. You have no right to do so.”

He looks at you, speechless and shocked at the way you’re behaving. In the blink of an eye, you furiously wipe your tears before dashing off. Everything hurts and you feel like you’re suffocating. You pay no heed to the injured guards or the blood all over the floor as you run as fast as your legs can take you away from this place. You don’t even turn to take a look at Blade’s reaction. So much for fulfilling a request. So much for simply wanting to do the right thing. It was supposed to be a simple mission, why did it turn out like this? And why, out of all people that could come save you, was it Blade that had become your saviour?

You weren’t trying to cozy up to him, you weren’t trying to take advantage of his power, you weren’t trying to do anything at all. You simply wanted a mutual alliance for the sake of teamwork but he didn’t even bother to reciprocate. All those times he left you hanging, making you feel embarrassed, making you feel like a fool…how dare he come to your aid and then proceed to make you feel like you weren’t even good enough?

You finally stop running when your legs grow weary. It takes a moment for you to realise you’re still in Stargazer Navalia though you’re not sure where exactly. The winds of the night are gentle as the moon shines brightly in the sky. At least it was all over right? At least now there will be no more cases of scamming and threats from Li Qi, at least now your family friend can finally breathe in relief, at least you’re still alive after all that so why, why do you feel worse than you did when you entered the warehouse?

You sit on the stone pavement near a large steel container, hugging your knees and sobbing your heart out. The bruises sting once again and you wince. You wince harder as you softly trace the bruise on the back of your neck. God, was it that bad? How long had Li Qi held you for you to bruise like this? Doesn’t matter. There was no point in thinking about it any further. You didn’t want to think about anything at all.

“There you are.”

A familiar deep voice rings in the distance and you look up to see Blade again. His breathing is heavier than usual and he sighs in relief as he lays his eyes on you.  How the hell did he even find me?! A scowl forms on your face and you bury your head back into your knees, unwilling to speak to him. He stands there for a while before coming closer to kneel in front of you awkwardly.

“Are you hurt?”

You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see them. Given that you don’t answer, he places a hand on your forehead and pushes your head up causing you to yelp. You try to resist but his strength overpowers yours.

“Leave me alone.”

You say coldly, refusing to make eye contact with him as he examines your face for injuries. He ignores your reply and frowns at your tear-stained face. One look at the bruise on the side of your head and his frown deepens.

“I should have killed him the moment I saw him.”

“W-what?!”

He ignores your reply again as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at his odd behaviour but don’t push him away. His hands drop from your face to your neck to observe the bruising.

“Stabbing him once didn’t suffice.”

The soul leaves your body as he states his murderous intentions to you absentmindedly while looking at your injury. How was he being so caring while mentioning such things?!

“Y-you you can go now…”

Blade shakes his head.

“You’re injured. You’re lucky these bruises are all you have. I was afraid that the gun…”

He trails off and looks in the distance again. For a man who lived and breathed murder and blood, he sure was hesitant talking about you nearly getting shot. You blink at him, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Was this…his way of showing care?

“I would have stabbed him over and over if he had shot you.”

You freeze and Blade feels the way your neck muscles tighten on his fingertips. He gives you a small smile that further scares you.

“I-If you’re saying these things to make me feel better you can stop now. I’m fine.”

“I am speaking my honest opinion.”

A blush creeps up on your face and warmth surges through your body. This hot shot was capable of being nice after all. You feel his fingers cup your face again as he softly strokes your tear-stained cheeks. The cool breeze toys with your hair and he gently pushes the loose strands away, not breaking eye contact with you. You don’t understand what he’s trying to do but you let him be.

“I…I did not mean to hurt your feelings earlier.”

You scoff and turn away.

“If anything had happened to you, I am unsure if I would be able to forgive myself.”

That statement alone makes you snap your head back to him and he smiles at you, his eyes softening with such warmth that it makes your heart beat faster. A smile so authentic that it almost makes you forget he is a wanted criminal with a 9 million bounty.

“You…should have told me you were meeting Li Qi earlier.”

“I would have if you bothered to listen when I talk.”

You glare at him and he sighs. Conflicting emotions are swirling in his eyes.

“I had no interest in talking to you before.”

“Do you find joy in insulting my existence or what?”

You fume as you push yourself up from the ground, wanting to get away from him. Blade follows suit as he immediately puts his arms around your waist, tightening his grip which makes you gasp.

“Blade what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“It is unsafe for you to go back on your own.”

“At least I won’t have to deal with you.”

His eyebrows knit together as he looks at you concerned.

“I cannot have you get hurt again.”

“Geez I am not a baby- Blade-!”

You barely finish your sentence as he picks you up bridal style out of nowhere causing you to tightly hold onto his coat once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as dizziness takes over and bury your head into his chest. A soft chuckle escapes his lips and you can’t help but smile at how he sounds. Any happy emotion from him is foreign to you yet cute at the same time. The loud heartbeat that vibrates from his chest soothes you somehow and that metallic musky scent of his calms your senses. Despite how he drives you crazy, you wish you could remain like this for as long as possible. Not that you would ever say that out loud.

“You will be safe from the law as long as you’re with me. I will have Kafka take care of this mess.”

Despite your protests on how ‘ I want to do this the right away’ and ‘I can tell the cloud knights the truth’ he just completely ignores everything you have to say as he walks away from Stargazer Navalia with you in his arms. A small smile of amusement is plastered on his face as he pays no heed to your ramblings about the law or the consequences of his actions. He never listens to you, does he? And for once, you don’t mind it either. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

#honkai star rail #blade x reader #blade hsr #hsr x reader #blade x you #hsr blade #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers blade #blade fluff #blade angst #hsr angst #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #blade honkai #stellaron hunters #blade x female reader

[thesirencult]

Pick A Card : Soul Connection

An intuitive reading about a soul meant to find yours. In epic tales there is a literally mechanism called "recognition". The hero and his counterpart recognize eachother even after years of estrangement. Like Penelope and Odysseus. A love so deep not even multiple lifetimes can erase. A soul kindred to yours you would recognize in a sea of people.

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

disclaimer : a tarot reading should never be used in place of professional counselling. Your reading cannot offer legal, medical, business, or financial advice nor does any portion of your reading herein purport to. You should not rely on a tarot reading to make any decision that would affect your legal, financial, or medical condition. If your inquiry involves the law, finance, or medicine, then you should seek the advice of a licensed or qualified legal, financial, or medical professional. Also, tarot reading cannot replace qualified mental health care. A tarot reading can only facilitate how you cope spiritually with a given situation.

PILE 1

The soul meant to find yours is a gentle one. Themes that come up here remind me of couples like Queen Victoria and Albert. I t will be love at first sight. Whatever your genders are, the "supposed" feminine will be the dominant one.

Your person will take the backseat as you run things. You may come from a wealthier background or simply seem "high value". Lady and the trump vibes.

This person will fight for those who didn't get the same opportunities to grow. They cheer for the underdog. This person will love your firey nature and how "bossy" you are. One thing you have to be careful with in this relationship is to keep things balanced as sometimes they might feel like you do not respect them or you don't spend enough time with them.

They could be an INFJ. Sympathetic, compassionate and protective. Practical and detail oriented, this is the safe place you need to come back to after your long trips towards the stars.

PILE 2

The love of your life will be able to see you. The real you. They won't overlook the greyness in your face. "You're Losing Me" by Taylor Swift is a song that can talk about your past.

No one stopped hurting you even though they knew they wouldn't be able to bring you back. They didn't care.

This person is everything that you deserve. They will help you heal. No sad songs with this one. Your happily ever after. This person is a soldier. They would die for love.

Your people pleasing tendencies won't go unnoticed with this one. They care about YOU, not what you can do about THEM.

Give them a chance when they come around. Sweet energy. Safe. Boy-Girl-They next door energy. A sweetheart with a great smile and a kind glint in their eyes. My heart feels warm writing about them. Hallmark movies ain't got nothing on them. Their love is simple and "perfect". No questions and worries. Your safe place.

Your energy reminds me of those wedding photos you see on Instagram of couples in small American towns posing with their golden retriever and smiling at each other. Don't let your past wounds f*ck this up. Sincerely, from one people pleaser to another. If you picked this pile we would have been besties in real life. Lots of love and hugs your way.

P.S. They will always choose you. You are not the first, but the ONLY choice.

PILE 3

Your whole life you have felt alone and isolated. Like life is a party you have not been invited. I wouldn't say you are a "pick me", you are far from that. You just feel like there is no one there for you to keep your hands warm. You have always longed for someone that will look behind the mirror and realize there is someone is behind it. You struggle with finding your inner voice.

The catch here is that you have the ability to choose anyone behind the mirror. You have the ability to show who you truly are. Be wild and crazy. Unstoppable. You didn't come here to do pretty and quiet. You are here to awake others and break the glass.

The person meant for you, your other half is very different from you. They are way more hedonistic and may find solace is the material realm. They will do everything to make you feel wanted and beautiful. This person will see you for who you truly are and they won't feel intimidated. Your "black cat energy" won't drive them away. They have some skeletons in the closet themselves. Disturbing and compelling, this one would make a great "50 Shades Of Grey" type of movie. lol. They could listen a lot to the Weeknd or they used to live a very "rough" lifestyle in the past. Love at first sight. Intense. You slap them and they will kiss you. They will buffle you. "Why doe sthis mfer stick around somehow?".

In all honesty, in this lifetime, your other half will be overbearing. They won't back down until they take you down with them. Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem come to mind in Jamon Jamon. This person may also come from money or have a lot of money and they want you to be their dark princess/prince. It will feel like taking a panther or feral cat and trying to domesticate it. Good try. You are still dangerous though, but they don't mind a few scratches.

#astrology #tarot reading #tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #level up journey #pick a photo #pick a picture #soulmate

[gracieheartspedro]

Snooze

Part 2 of "How Long"

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

description: the next day, you're stuck in your own head about last night. how can joel change your mind and make you stay? spoiler, he can't.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, this is mainly just angst. mentions of cheating. some sexual tension and talks of sex. this skips ahead 2 months in the middle, so a slight time jump. name calling, pet names also included.

author's note: this is part two of "how long"! I wanted to get into the smut but I wanted to add this kinda as a way to guide the reader through the next parts. and yes, there's more coming! enjoy joel being soft for reader.

Maybe it was for revenge in the beginning, but Joel made you feel like the woman you wanted to be all along. 

You wake up in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe and secure. His soft snores were cute and not annoying like Tommy’s loud and obnoxious snores. His expression when sleeping was so precious, his nose wiggling and his brows not furrowed in their normal spot. When he notices you stirring, his snores fade and his eyes slowly drift open. Once he sees your staring, he gives you a lazy smile. 

“Mornin’ sweet girl,” He grumbles, stretching his legs and making his biceps flex under your neck. 

“Howdy,” You say softly. You sit up from the warmth he brings you, realizing you are still naked from your escapades. You grab a blanket from off the floor, wrapping it around yourself as you search the room for your clothes. 

“Want to borrow somethin’ from me?”

The offer sends chills down your spine. You turn to see him standing up from his side of the bed. He’s naked too, and good heavens, he’s hard. You physically couldn’t pull your eyes away from the man’s body. His upper body sculpted but as you trail down, a small pudge forming where his tummy is. Your lips twist upward, watching him sulk over to his dresser drawers. He opens the second drawer down, pulling out a pair of black sweatpants. He looks towards you, noting your expression. 

“You perv,” he groans, tossing you the pants, “My room, I can walk around naked.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, catching the pants. He’s so unserious and your laugh only enables his bad behavior. He shakes his head, opening another drawer to search for a t-shirt. He finds an old t-shirt he got at country music festival back in the early 90s. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was one of the most worn t-shirts in his collection and he was secretly dying to see it on you. 

You pull the pants over your naked bottom half, suddenly taking notice to how huge they are on you. You take the drawstrings and tie them as tight as you can get them. The pant legs would drag across the floor, for sure. You felt so tiny in his clothes. 

He walks the shirt over to you instead of tossing it at you. When you realize what shirt he’s giving you, you let out an excited squeal. 

“I used to joke to Tommy I would somehow steal this shirt from you,” you explain, snatching the folded gray shirt from him, “Finally!”

“Yeah, all you had to do is fuck me.”

It’s so blunt, it makes your excitement fade quick. When you glance up to meet his eyes, the twinkle makes you draw a conclusion. 

He’s fucking with you, dude. 

“Now it’s mine forever, motherfucker.”

His eyes widen at your response. You never cussed like that in front of him, especially when it came to calling him a name. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, girl,” He grumbles, watching you drop the blanket from your upper half, exposing your boobs do him. His dick twitches when he sees that he left a lovebite right beside your nipple. 

You were so perfect to him. 

“You’re lucky I’m sore from last night,” You murmur slipping the t-shirt over your head, “Or else I’d… I’d do dirty things to you Joel.”

He creeps forward, his eyes darkening at your suggestion. His eyebrows find their usual spot, the crease in between them growing deeper. You couldn’t help yourself. You were physically incapable of not wanting him. To think you’d spent so long with Tommy, wasting every day trying to manage his chaos, and you were missing out on this. On Joel Miller standing butt naked in his bedroom with a hard on, practically begging you to suck it. 

You were so fucked. 

“How sore?” He tucks your tangled locks behind your ear, his pointer finger finding the curve of your neck, down to your décolletage. Truthfully, you weren’t that sore, just a bit worn out from spending hours crying, only to spend more time having the best sex of your life. 

Your hand finds his, letting his fingers dance around your chest down to the swell of your breast. Just when you’re about to give in, you hear a bang on his door. 

“Dad! Wake up! I want pancakes!”

You practically jump out of your skin, throwing yourself back and away from Joel’s reach. You put your hands over your mouth, trying to disguise the slight gasp that leaves your lips. 

His lips form into a perfectly straight line, “I’ll be out in a second, kid. Can you run next door and ask Jimmy for some eggs?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want good pancakes, yes!”

The way they talk to each other makes you smile under your hands. You hear Sarah moan in annoyance, before running out the back door and over to the neighbor’s house. Joel rolls his eyes, finding a pair of pants and a t-shirt for himself. You watch him get dressed, still standing like a puppy waiting to be released from their crate. 

“Just go upstairs and mess up the guest bed a bit, then come down and act like you just woke up. We don’t havta tell her bout you and Tommy unless you wanna.”

You contemplate his words for a moment. Maybe telling Sarah her uncle is a sociopathic cheater wasn’t the best way to start her morning. You quickly decide that you’d tell her that you two decided to take a break. 

“I’ll tell her we are taking a break or something and that I was just super upset and came over to clear my head.”

“Great idea,” He mumbles, opening up his bedroom door, “Now get your pretty ass upstairs and stumble down in like 10 minutes acting tired and sad.”

You smack his shoulder as you walk out in front of him, “I am tired and sad, asswipe.”

“All these slanderous nicknames, what happened to my good girl from last night?”

Your core clenches at the words. You knew he was toying with you and you wanted to give in so bad, but you were on a time crunch at this point. Sarah would be coming in at any second. As you try to leave Joel’s reach, you feel his hand on your shoulder. He spins you around to face you, grabbing the nape of your neck. He pulls you up, leaning down to capture your lips into a quick but eager kiss. 

You always felt self conscious about kissing in the morning because Tommy always commented on morning breath and how disgusting it was. You literally wouldn’t kiss him until you brushed your teeth in fear he would find you repulsive. Joel didn’t care though, he wanted your kisses every moment of every day. 

After getting a piece of you last night, he knew he was going to have a hard time resisting the urge to have you in his bed every night. He had a crush on you for so long, pushing aside his feelings, knowing it was so wrong to like his own brother’s girlfriend. But now his brother’s actions were finally coming to light after years of suspicion, and Joel knew this was his chance to treat you the way you deserved to be treated. 

“Git,” He says, pulling away from you, swatting your ass as you walk through his house to the staircase. As soon as you’re halfway up the stairs, you hear Sarah come back into the house. You pause, waiting for them to start talking. 

“Why’s her car up front?”

Joel pauses for a moment. You hear him taking a mug out of his cabinets, “She and Tommy got into it last night. I told her she could crash in the guest room.”

“What about?”

“Adult stuff, don’t worry bout it.”

You roll your eyes, creeping up the stairs and into the guest room. The last time you found yourself in this room, it was to sleep next to Tommy after you two drank too much with Joel and a couple friends. Thinking back to it, you remember that was the same night he told you he really didn’t want kids. You laid in the same god forsaken bed and cried until you fell asleep.

Tommy really didn’t care about you. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, him cheating on you. You just really didn’t want it to be with your own sister. But truthfully, you’re glad it was a world shattering cheating scandal. It made you never want to see his stupid face again. 

You grab the duvet off the top of the bed and throw it around. You lay in the bed, making the sheets crinkle. You needed to make it look like you actually stayed in this room, just in case Sarah peered in. 

Once satisfied with your work, you stand up and head downstairs. It had only been 5 minutes and you already smell freshly brewed coffee. It makes you smile, ready to share a cup with Joel. 

“Mornin’,” Joel says plainly, glancing up at you from the mixing bowl placed on the island. Sarah is seated at the barstools, watching her dad slave over breakfast.

“Mornin’ Millers,” You say, falsely rubbing your eyes to make it seem like you had just woken up seconds ago. 

“Weird to see you here on a Sunday morning,” Sarah comments, pulling the barstool next to her out. She wanted you to sit next to her and explain what happened, you could see it on her face. She had just turned 14, so she knew it was a curious case when her uncle’s girlfriend was crashing in the room next to hers. “You and Tommy good?”

“No, he uh,” You look up at Joel who’s stopped his stirring. You give him a look like “hey I think I may tell her the truth”, and he nods. Even if it means Sarah would look at Tommy in a different light, she should know her uncle is imperfect and capable of fucking up his life.

“He admitted to cheating on me on our ride home last night. I left him on the side of the road and called your Dad to go get him.”

Saying the story out loud sounds so absurd. It almost didn’t feel real. 

Sarah’s mouth falls open in shock and disbelief. Joel decides it’s his turn to quip up. 

“I told her she could come here and stay until she was ready to face him,” He explains, portioning out pancakes on a buttered pan, “I picked Uncle Tommy up from the side of the road and took him back to their apartment. He will probably be calling here shortly. He needs to come get his truck.”

Sarah had questions, hundreds of them. 

He seriously cheated? With who? Are you going to break up? Am I never going to see you again? How could he do this? 

What catches you and Joel off guard is when she slams her fists on the island. 

“What an asshole!”

Joel’s eyes fly open in shock, but you choke out a laugh at Sarah’s comment. 

“Hey, language,” He looks over at you, his shoulders tense, “And you shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Sorry,” You admit, standing up from the chair to find your way around to the coffee pot. You knew the ins and outs of the kitchen, so you find a coffee mug in the cabinet next to Joel. You start to pour some of the pot into your mug, just as Sarah poses a question.

“Is that my dads shirt?”

You stop your actions like you just got caught in the act. You slowly put the pot back on the heated stand, waiting for Joel to say something. Please save me, you beg silently.

“She needed pajamas last night. She was wearing her outfit from Tommy’s party, not comfy to sleep in.”

Nice save, Joel. 

You nod and try to avoid eye contact for the rest of the time Joel’s making breakfast. While Sarah continues to ask questions, you just shake your head and sip your black coffee. You usually drank it with some creamer and sugar, but you needed the bite of the coffee to bring you to life. Joel cooks pancakes, eggs, and bacon, all things you’d like to eat but after Sarah’s interrogation, you feel sick to your stomach. Joel prepares you and Sarah’s plates, putting them in front of you both. Sarah chows down immediately and you just poke around the plate, pretending you’re eating. Joel notices, watching you closely as he munches on a piece of toast. 

As you finally take a bite, the landline rings behind you on the wall. 

“Probably Tommy,” Joel swallows, heading to the phone to pick it up. He was right, it was Tommy. You hear his whiny voice over the sound of Sarah humming while she eats. He’s upset, telling Joel that he needs to find you to apologize. 

“She’s here,” Joel mutters, disregarding any emotion he may feel, “She came here after last night.”

“Why there?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Because she didn’t want to go home to your drunk ass.”

“Can you tell her I’m sorry?”

You can feel Joel tense up, finally meeting his eyes as he pulls the phone away from his ear. He looks at you, his eyes asking if you want to say anything over the phone. You don’t even think, you just snatch the phone from his grasp. 

You hear Tommy’s labored breathing over the phone, like he is crying. 

“You wanted to say something to me?”

You voice is even, not showing any emotion that is bubbling in your stomach. 

“Baby,” He stammers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” You hold your breath, waiting for the right words to say, “I want you out of the house by the end of the day. I’ll get Joel to come get you so you can ge-”

“Baby, please! Please I’m so-”

“I’m not done talking, Tommy.” You pause, inhaling quickly, “We are done, okay? I’ll have Joel come get you in an hour to get your truck that I bought for you, and you will be out of the apartment I pay for, and you will be out of my life. I don’t want apologies. I want you gone.”

You turn to see Sarah and Joel gawking at your immediate and demanding response to Tommy. It wasn’t something you were anticipating to say, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t even think through your demands, but you knew you couldn’t stay in the bubble you were in at Joel’s house forever. You paid most the rent at your shared apartment. That truck was something you helped pay for. He needed to be gone in order for you to figure your next steps. Truthfully, after your last conversation with him, you wished you never had to speak to Tommy ever again. 

You knew that the reason he was really sorry was because he got caught and his living situation was up in the air. It had nothing to do with actually feeling bad for ruining your sense of safety and security. Tommy was a lot of things, but you did see a future with him, somehow. 

“I’ll just have Ryan bring me over there. I’m not waiting around for Joel. He seems too busy playing house with you. Stupid bit-”

The line drops and you stand there in shock. You weren’t even upset, you were angry. He was so quick to change his tune when he realized you weren’t going to be manipulated again. It made your whole body go red hot. 

“What did he say?”

Sarah was silent, unsure how to navigate such an awkward moment. You don’t even know what to say, so you just slam the phone onto the machine.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to see him when he gets over here. I may-,” You censor yourself, remembering this is probably a weird situation for Sarah. You can’t say what you really want to say. 

“What did he say?”

“He’s having Ryan bring him over to get his truck.”

“What else?”

Joel knows he had to say something to rile you up, and he knows his sorries were just conditional. You knew that too, but it hurt to hear him so bitter again. You begin to come to the conclusion that the alcohol wasn’t what made Tommy bold last night, that was just him showing his true colors finally.

You just shake your head. Joel dismisses Sarah before she can finish her breakfast, but she knew it was probably in her best interest to hide away in her bedroom anyway. She doesn’t object, just grabs her plate and carries it upstairs. 

Joel leans against the counter, waiting for you to finally speak up. You know what Tommy said is going to send him into a rage, so you bite the side of your cheek.

“’s gonna be here any moment. Do you want me to ask him what he said to you? Or would you rather share with the class?”

Ugh. 

“He said you were playing house with me.”

You don’t tell him the name he called you, it would only make him more angry. Joel brings his mug up to his lips, hissing as he slurps it up. His bows his head, wondering how he’s going to probably make this situation even worse. 

Joel wanted to say fuck it and fight for you, but that’d be selfish. He had been pining for you forever but you on the other hand, didn’t even think he was an option. You had never given a relationship with Joel a thought until last night. Tommy was always your first and final choice. You were fiercely loyal and Joel knew that. So, sure, he wanted you to drop every thought of Tommy and just stay. But he knew you couldn’t. 

You didn’t want to be the reason that Joel didn’t talk to his brother anymore. You don’t want to be the reason Sarah doesn’t have a relationship with her uncle. You felt like your feelings for Joel only complicated things. Of course they did. And what exactly were the feelings? Was it just a rush because it was so new and different? Or did Joel actually make you feel unconditionally appreciated?

You can read Joel’s expression for the first time. He’s pleading with you. 

“Sweethe-”

“I don’t want to be the reason your family falls apart,” You mutter, trying not to cry as you say it. You were surprised you even had any tears left after last night. 

Joel rounds the island, approaching you with every intention to give you a big hug. You stop him though, your hand resting on his broad chest. Your memory serves you right, mapping out the front of his chest with your finger tips, waiting for him to say something else. He doesn’t say anything though, he just roughly grabs your hips, walking you to the corner of the island. 

“Tommy is the reason our family fell apart,” He explains, lifting your butt to the edge of the counter. His hands then rest on your upper thighs, rubbing circles as you lazily wrap your arms around his neck. Your heart was racing, knowing Tommy could walk into Joel’s house like he used to. He’d see you pinned to the counter by Joel and he’d draw all his conclusions. 

“You were the cheater this whole time,” you imagine him saying. 

“He will be here any minute, Joel.” 

You couldn’t have everything blow up in your face all at once. You needed Joel to know that you were thankful for him, but you didn’t need an added stressor to your life right now. 

You look into his desperate eyes, wanting nothing more but to plant another kiss on his downturned lips.

“I am going to change and get out of your hair. I have to,” Your brain starts going a million miles a minute, trying to explain yourself, “I have to call my family. I have to… I have to rebuild my life, Joel. I’m sorry, this,” You gesture to him and yourself, “This complicates a lot. I need.. I just need time.”

He steps back, shaking his head. He knew that’d be your response. It stung, but he had to try to push aside his feelings for you. 

You hear a car door slam out front, making your nerves go into overdrive. 

“I’ll go give him his keys. Let him know you’re not interested in talkin’.”

You just bite your lip, slipping off the counter. 

“Can you tell him to leave his key under the mat when he gets his shit out? He has until tonight.”

Joel starts to bound to the front door, beating Tommy to the knob. 

“Yeah, I’ll let him know,” He turns to you finally, “And you don’t have to change. Keep my shirt. You’ve wanted it for awhile, it’s yours.”

-

2 months later

From: Joel Miller

Sarah has been begging to see you. I’m making lasagna tonight and I remembered it was your favorite. Would you want to come over ? If you’re not busy?

You had ignored most of Joel’s texts since Tommy moved out. You had spent the last 2 months trying to figure out your entire life. It was flipped upside down overnight, so you needed a moment to catch your breath. Joel understood, of course. You’d text him every now and again, just to let him know you were doing okay. 

You sit at your desk at work, glancing at your calendar pinned to your bulletin board. 

Of course you didn’t have plans for a random Wednesday night. Tomorrow you had Thristy Thursday with some coworkers. But tonight was going to be the night you lit up one of your last couple joints on your balcony and smoked until your eyelids got heavy. Maybe you would call your mom and ask her if she’d heard from your sister. 

Your mom had heard what happened two days after everything went down, and was totally on your side, which was nice. She couldn’t believe your sister had the audacity to do such a thing. You’d vent to her for hours, eventually crying and wishing she wasn’t across the country to give you a hug. After your parents divorced a couple years ago, your mother decided she needed to live her life far away from your dad, so she moved to Maine. Random, but you respected her for getting away and living her life on her terms. She told you that you should do the same. You laughed between tears, telling her maybe you would.

After your sister was confronted with the fact that you knew all about her and Tommy, she cried and begged for forgiveness. You decided to spare her your true feelings, opting to just tell her to stay out of your life for awhile. You’d ignored her calls and texts after that. It was your father who called you a couple days later to tell you that she had checked herself into rehab for abusing alcohol and pills. 

As sick as it was, your mind went straight to karma. It was bittersweet. You told your father to let her know you were thinking about her and hope she got better. Your dad said she was going to move to Dallas with him once she got out of treatment. It wasn’t far enough away from you, but it would do.

You stare back down at your phone, reading Joel’s text several more times.

Just you and Sarah? You type.

It was a dumb question to ask, but you had to be sure Tommy wasn’t just hanging around his house like he used to. You’re almost positive Joel would’ve told Tommy to stop coming around, but you can never be too safe.

He responded quickly. 

From: Joel Miller

Just us. She wanted to show you her new CD player too. 

You can’t say no, especially now that it’s not just Joel you’re neglecting. You had been around Sarah most of her life and she always loved having you around. You were almost like a big sister she never had. She always begged you to come to her soccer games, her chorus concerts, and birthday parties. You never missed one. 

She always gave you insight on the newest trends and she was quick with her humor, which always had you laughing until your stomach hurt. If you were going to go to the Miller household, it would be to hear all of Sarah’s life updates.

And maybe to see Joel. His presence would not be lost on you. 

You hover over your keyboard, overthinking your response. 

Okay, yeah. I can be over around 6? 

You glance back up at your computer screen, seeing that it was already 3. You’d be out of work in an hour, then you’d have to see Joel.

You hadn’t seen him since you left his house with your pile of clothes, sporting his old t-shirt and sweatpants, completely dazed and confused at the curveball that life threw you.

You did wear that shirt he gave you almost every night. 

Your phone dings. 

From: Joel Miller

Sounds good. I’ll let Sarah know, she will be excited.

You shake away all your doubt and take a couple deep breaths, getting back to some emails before you’d go home and get ready to face your past. 

–

“You came!”

Sarah opens the door to see you practically shaking in your new heeled boots. She reaches out and grabs you, giving you the tightest hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” You grin, returning the squeeze, “Your dad promised me lasagna and you, so of course I had to come.”

She giggles, pulling you out of the chilly air. The Miller house has this distinct warmth that always comforts the deepest parts of your soul. Even when you and Tommy were together, your favorite place to hangout was Joel’s back deck and living room. 

You haven’t ever felt so nervous to see Joel. You round the corner to the kitchen, only to see him slaving over the oven. He looks relaxed. His hair is a bit more shaggy than usual. He’s surprisingly not in any work gear, wearing a blue t-shirt and khakis, with no stains. He put on his best outfit, just for you. 

When your eyes lock, you just try your best to give him your best cheesy smile. You had no idea what to say to the man. Hey, I miss you a lot. I find myself comparing every dick I have had in the last two months to yours. 

That would land well.

“Hey there stranger,” You opt to say instead.

He drops the knife he’s using to butter some bread. He’s reaching out towards you, grappling at your waist and the bottle of red in your hand. 

“Hey, I’ve-… I mean we’ve missed ya,” He gives you a half hug, putting the wine down on the counter. You feel weird touching him like this. Especially in front of Sarah. He smells like you remember. Sweet strawberry shampoo and whatever laundry softener he puts on his clothes. His large hand pulls away from your waist and you instantly miss it. 

“I’ve missed y’all, too. Anything I can do to help?” You gesture towards the spread he has laid out. It’s mainly just fresh garlic diced up and some Italian bread cut up into slices. 

“Why don’t ya open that bottle? Wine glasses ar-“

“Above the dishwasher, I know.”

—

Dinner was intertwined with Sarah telling stories about her first weeks of school and you devouring your weight in lasagna. Joel just nodded along, piping in to say something sarcastic to Sarah or smile at your sauce stained lips. You sip on wine, progressively getting more and more relaxed due to the alcohol flowing through your veins. 

It was like old times. Except you didn’t have Tommy interjecting to shoot down your ideas or him and Joel getting into a small tiff about something that happened 10 years ago. It was nice. After dinner, when Joel was starting on dishes, Sarah brought you up to her room to show you some new stuff she bought. She played you a Britney Spears CD on her new stereo, telling you about how many discs it actually held. She even confided in you that she had a crush on a boy in her math class. 

“You better not tell your Dad. He will have a cow.”

You feel a presence behind you occupy the door. You turn quickly, seeing Joel leaning against the door frame. 

“Have a cow about what?” He grumbles, crossing his arms at you two. You smirk, shaking your head. 

“Nothing, Dad,” Sarah utters quickly. 

“Yeah, Dad, it’s none of your business.”

He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. 

He only came up here to grab you for some alone adult talk, and here you are gossiping with his daughter and harboring secrets. Deep down, he loved it. He appreciated that Sarah felt safe enough to come to you and talk to you about things. You were always a great role model for her. 

“Okay, fine,” He raises his hands in defeat, “Sarah, you gotta get up for school tomorrow. Start gettin’ ready for bed.”

“Bu-”

“No buts. You’re not goin’ in late tomorrow. Shower and bed.”

She stomps her foot, annoyed with him and his demands. You just giggle, grabbing her arms and bringing her into a hug. 

“I promise I’ll be around more. You call me any time, okay? I love hearing from you.”

She crushes you with her little bony arms, “Don’t be a stranger.”

You pull away, gesturing Joel to scoot out of the door frame so you could head downstairs. He follows close behind, his foot fall in sync with yours. 

“You wanna stay for another glass? Stil half the bottle left.”

You bite your lip. You shouldn’t, but you want to talk to him without a child present. So you nod eagerly, heading straight to the bottle once you reach the downstairs. You pour yourself some into your stained glasses, giving him the last splash. 

“Wanna hang outside? May be more private.”

He wanted privacy because he wanted to pick your mind. He also wanted updates on your family. How everything went down with your sister. Your parent’s opinions on the situation. One thing about Joel was that he wanted to hear your buttery voice talk about anything and everything. 

You two walk out the sliding glass door, finding spots on the outdoor couch Joel had for most of Sarah’s life. It was falling apart and water damaged, but it was where you and him had spent long nights having conversations when Tommy was drunk and asleep on the couch inside. 

“You uh, talk to your sister?” He asks, settling into the couch, keeping an appropriate distance from you. 

You breath out loudly, “Yeah, she’s in rehab.”

“Holy shit, cause of what happened?”

You take a sip of wine before you answer, “No, she was on some heavy shit, I guess. Maybe that’s what gave her the audacity to fuck Tommy.”

“Yeah maybe. You talk to him at all?”

“He left me a drunken voicemail a couple weeks ago. Other than that, no.”

You had woken up in the dead of night to get water and saw you had a message on your home phone voicemail. You pressed the button, letting his wasted voice slur your name. He was begging to come back. Said he made a mistake. He would never do it again, yada yada. 

“He’s already bringin’ another girl around my parents. Some chick from that bar he’s always at with his buddies,” Joel confesses, “My ma is confused.”

Your stomach flips a bit. You were curious how Tommy was doing, but not out of desperation or anything. You just wanted to know if he would survive on his own. 

“I knew he’d be quick. How does your mom feel about it all?”

“Disappointed but she enables his shit.”

Joel takes a sip of his wine, licking his lips after he swallows. You watch him closely, trying to not make it obvious that you missed the way his tongue traced yours that night. 

“Yeah that’s fair. He’s her baby.”

He nods, letting the silence fill the air. He doesn’t want to ask about your dating life, but the question was festering in his mind. He couldn’t help himself. 

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

“Not really.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’ve slept with other guys but no one to really ride home about. They weren’t-“

He cuts you off quickly, “Tommy?”

“No,” You contemplate for a moment, gripping the stem of your wine glass tighter. You know if you weren’t drinking, you would never let the next word slip your lips. But it does. 

“You.”

You weren’t planning on confessing that to anyone, especially Joel himself. But the tension was rising in your chest and he’s sitting here, under the moonlight, giving you those damn puppy eyes. 

He raises his eyebrows, not expecting you to say something so upfront and honest. The relief that floods him was satisfying, though. He hadn’t even thought about another woman since you. 

You mainly had random hookups to try to fill the void you felt due to not having someone around all the time. You weren’t ever fully into them, but you needed to feel something. That something was never itching that itch you had, though. The closeness you craved wasn’t strictly sexual.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, looking down at his socks, “I can’t uh… I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

It makes your heart grow 7 sizes to hear him say that. The guilt you anticipated feeling about sleeping with Joel never came. You instead missed him more than any other part of your 7 year relationship with his brother. 

“The feeling is mutual.”

The moment is shattered when you hear a pounding on the glass door. Sarah stands there in his pajamas, her toothbrush in her hand.

Joel signals her to open the door, which she does a bit too hard. The door shudders loudly as Sarah jumps over the threshold.

“Jesus kid,” Joel groans, setting his empty glass down on a table nearby, “What is it?”

“We should invite her to my soccer tournament this weekend!”

“Soccer tournament?”

Joel huffs, “She has a big tournament this weekend in Houston.”

“You should come!”

You shoot a look at Joel, “I mean, I am free. But is that okay with you? Are you guys staying somewhere?”

“Yeah, the Marriot downtown. Her whole team is stayin’ there. We have two beds in the room, so you could squeeze. Only if you want to.”

He was praying you’d say yes. 

“That’d be fun,” You drink the last drop of your wine, “Count me in.”

You want to think you’re doing it for Sarah, but truthfully, you were itching to get more time with Joel. You were almost positive you made plans with a guy from work this weekend, but you could care less about cancelling something if it meant you could get to stay in a fancy hotel with Joel and support Sarah from the sidelines. 

Sarah squeals in excitement, running outside barefoot to throw her arms around you. 

“I promise we will win!”

It sends you into a fit of giggles. 

“I’m sure you will, kiddo. Now get inside, your feet will get all gross without shoes on.”

Joel quips up, “Brush your teeth, then bed. ‘Ya hear me?”

She straightens up, saluting him like a solider dramatically, “Sir, yes, sir.”

You both watch her prance inside, giddy that you’d be around to watch her on the field. You can’t help but feel loved by the girl. She really made you feel important. 

Joel clears his throat, “You can say no to her, yanno?”

“No, I really can’t,” You scoot to the corner of the couch, pushing yourself off of it, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, I got a big day tomorrow,” Joel lies. He didn’t have a big day, he would literally be sitting in his truck thinking of you while his work crews do all the heavy lifting. He stands up to walk you out, wracking his brain if he should… hug you? Kiss you?

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner tonight. I guess I’ll see you guys this weekend? Will I just meet you here Friday evening so we can head out?”

“Yeah, planning on leaving around 5:30,” Joel explains, getting the sliding glass door for you, “We can just come by and get you.”

“Yeah don’t want Tommy to drive by and see my car in your driveway, right?”

“I could care less what Tommy’s thinks.”

part 3 coming soon

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #joel miller gif #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel last of us smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal gifs #gracieheartspedro

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail last year, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“...No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.” 

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.” 

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

[theold-ultraviolence]

One day Alicent comes over, reader lets her in, and she can hear this loud like scream laughing in the other room, Amealia’s shrieks of joy and amusement and Aemond’s laughing, so loud and and so joyous and free, and reader says ‘oh sorry Aemond is playing with Amaelia in there’ like this is the most normal occurrence. And Alicent can’t believe that’s her son. That’s he being so silly and free. But this is Aemond with reader and especially Amaelia this is him everyday now

Hey there dear!! once again, thank you for your patience, when I don´t reply right away to an ask like this is because I know my silly brain will wanna write something longer, and this was the case! I ADORED THIS SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS!! my heart

As she steps through the threshold of her son's home, Alicent's big doe eyes widen even more, fixing her gaze on her daughter-in-law as her ears catch the shrieking noises and the boisterous sound of her granddaughter's laughter coming from another room.

The music of her Amaelia's delight is already familiar to Alicent. The little girl is a lively spirit, so different from how Alicent's own children used to be. So different from how Aemond has always been: quiet, brooding, reserved. An eternal wallflower.

This is why it's not the sound of Amaelia's laughter that freezes Alicent on the spot, but that of a man's: deep and breathy, straight from their chest, and so, so very warm.

Surely this isn't Aemond. It cannot be.

Not when it's not even noon yet, as Alicent's here to go out with Aemond's family for lunch.

She's never met anyone that's already this giddy in the early morning.

Is there another man interacting with her granddaughter!? does Alicent's daughter-in-law have another man in the house!?

This flash of judgment must have passed through Alicent's eyes without meaning to, for her daughter-in-law is quick to set her nerves at ease when she gestures to the other room, after taking Alicent's coat in hand.

"Sorry for the noise! Aemond is playing with Amaelia...it's one of those days where we struggle to get her dressed!" her daughter-in-law says with a playful chuckle as she leads Alicent towards the hall.

What greets her eyes - that had grown so tired around the corners, from having only witnessed grief and melancholy in her lifetime - is a sight that she's only ever seen in distant dreams and delusions of another life where her children didn't grow up to distance themselves from her.

Aemond doubles over the tiny frame of his daughter as he laughs, before picking her up, swinging her around up, up, up in the air before dropping her onto her bed and making her bounce, before he tackles her and tickles her until Amaelia's crying, "no more, no more!!!!"

But she exclaims with a bright, toothy grin and eyes that sparkle with happiness, as she turns to see her dad, and flings her arms so he can pick her up and do that again.

Aemond picks her in his arms and sways her before filling her with a series of loving kisses to her tummy and cheeks that just make her laugh even more.

Alicent's long practiced refined smile doesn't convey the depth of her happiness in this moment. Her heart, a wilted rose, blooms once more, and breathes with joyous life at sight. She turns around, not wanting to intrude in such a happy moment.

She manages to lightly squeeze her daughter-in-law's shoulder, before gratefully accepting a cup of coffee to wait for Aemond to get Amaelia ready.

Alicent never mentions what she sees to her son - so unused to open-hearted conversations in her old age. But it's a memory that will always be treasured in her heart from now on.

It's a memory that makes every moment of pain she's endured, worth it.

#aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #dad!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #my oc: amaelia targaryen #modern au #modern!aemond's family #my aus #my writing #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[bloodmoonmuses]

we're not really strangers | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, drabble (700 words), meditative prose, angst (?) inspired by the movie "all of us strangers" and mark's 'dirty smoothie' trailer for their upcoming album "dreamscape"

warnings: none!

summary: the love of your life, mark, appears out of thin air.

The edges of your vision are blurred with tears. You attempt to blink them back- to keep them at bay-  but they fall hastily as your pace quickens amidst the concrete jungle. You’re experiencing the type of vulnerability that can only exist before nine in the morning- when people ravage the polluted city, weaving in and out of the crowd as they hustle to work. You’ve missed your train, and now, in order to make it to the office on time, you’ll have to walk six blocks. The sky is abysmally gray, but it’s apt, you suppose. Your mind and body feels gray as well-  mushy, drab and bland in its quiet suffering. You curse your faulty alarm clock and rue the feeling of watching the train zip past right as you reach its closed doors. It’s enough to ruin your entire day. Probably your entire week. But nevertheless, the world moves onward. 

You jump into the mix, warm bodies making the sidewalk blush as they cross its mind. As a law-abiding citizen, you mind the traffic lights. When it says walk, you walk. When it says stop, you stop. There’s something comforting about being told what to do. Muscle memory pilots your pliant form. You come to a stop again, because the light tells you so. On the opposite side of the street, in the middle of about twenty or so people waiting to cross as well, you see a man with wired headphones nodding along to his music. In his hand is an iPod Touch. The light turns and suddenly, you’re passing one another. The man skips joyfully, taking big strides with his elegantly long legs. You make contact briefly, his shoulder brushing yours, before he disappears into the morning mist. 

When you return your attention ahead of you, there he is again, leaning against the crosswalk light. You look around in confusion. Had he not just crossed the street? Didn’t he just vanish into the chaos of his morning commute?

“What?” the man asks as you come to stand in front of him. “You’re staring.”

“I thought I just saw you-” your head whips around with such force, you’re afraid you’ve injured your neck. When you look behind you, the entire street is empty- everyone having evaporated without a single trace. 

The man is  wearing a corporate lanyard. His badge says Mark Lee. You’ve known him for a lifetime, suddenly.

“Hey. I said you’re staring.”

“What are you doing here, Mark?”

“Playing hooky with you, of course.” Mark grasps your freezing hand, encasing it in two of his own, and warms it with his breath. “Let’s get out of here. You’ll catch a cold.”

He walks you back to your apartment. You’re not sure how he knows how to get there. Or where he got a key from. He moves around your home with tenured expertise, blending into the domesticity as if he’d been a permanent fixture in it for many years. Years that have escaped you. Years, that when you look up one day, you realize have flown past you in a flash. He takes your favorite mug out of the cupboard, the one with glazed ladybugs painted on it.

“Mark,” you start.

“Shh. Don’t ruin it,” he says. 

“Ruin what?”

He makes you a cup of tea. Chamomile. Also your favorite. He places it wordlessly on your tiny dining room table, sitting across from you.

“This is the best idea I’ve had in a while,” Mark says. “I should skip work more often.” He leans over to kiss you, chastely, on the lips. He misses slightly, only capturing the corner of your mouth. He chuckles. 

“You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost,” whispers Mark, still only inches away from your face. You kiss his nose, and the feeling is so familiar that it almost calms you completely. Then you remember: there’s a stranger in your house.

“Do I know you?” you inquire, scared of ‘ruining it’. All you do is ruin things. For once, you’d like to get out of your own way. 

Mark simply nods. “Of course you do.”

He kisses you once more, then stands to retrieve his iPod. When he returns, he sits next to you this time, placing an earbud into your left ear and the other in his right. Mark presses play, and a song you don’t recognize fills your ears like water. Mark rests his head on your shoulder, draping you in his sodden affection. Your heart feels impossibly heavy. You hope he’s real. 

“I love you,” Mark says.

“I love you too.” 

a/n: thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated!

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee fic #mark lee #mark lee x reader #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct 127 fic #mark lee angst

[sarahghetti]

mcu masterlist

steve rogers

[ one-shots ]

we might fall | 2.9k, angst Steve has to fake his death for a mission, but no one can know outside of the Avengers. This includes the reader.

war of hearts | 2.3k, hurt and comfort Sequel to we might fall.

“This won’t happen again,” he said, reaching for your hand but you pulled it away.

“Can you promise me that?” He hesitated.

long time coming | 2.5k, angst, hurt and comfort Thoughts ran through your mind – what if you didn’t really break free, what if HYDRA was planning to infiltrate the tower through you – what if you hurt him again?

tall and two sugars | 1.4k, fluff There was a quaint little shop that he and Bucky would walk past everyday a lifetime ago and the smell of coffee replaces the one of sweets now, but she’s sweet enough.

cookies and coffee | 0.7k, fluff The team get curious about this little coffee shop that Steve loves so much. Sequel to tall and two sugars, but can be read as a standalone.

family relations | 2.9k, hurt and comfort Howard has a sister, and she has Steve’s heart. Then, seventy years later, she has a nephew named Tony and Steve is fast on his way to becoming his uncle-in-law.

collateral | 2.0k, angst The reader during the events of The Winter Soldier.

damage control | 0.7k, hurt and comfort Sequel to collateral. The reader after the events of The Winter Soldier.

catching up | 2.0k, fluff You’re on Coulson’s team and are dating Steve. Naturally, he’s curious.

countdown | 1.3k, hurt and comfort Soulmate AU. His mom tells him that it was nearly 85 years away, but smiles, saying how magical the moment would be regardless. Steve almost mentions the fact that people barely lived to be seventy-five.

heart hope | 1.3k, hurt and comfort, smut Steve visits the reader before the Civil War.

golden days | 1.1k, hurt and comfort Steve finds Pierce’s former right hand, the reader, after the fall of SHIELD.

salience | 1.7k, fluff, hurt and comfort Your relationship with Steve through the eyes of the rest of the team.

hesitance | 0.8k, hurt and comfort Steve's girlfriend saves his life by killing another person without hesitating and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

connection | 3.6k, hurt and comfort You woke up in an unfamiliar room, dazed and confused. There were dozens of guards outside who’d shoot you on sight and all you had was an earpiece with one voice on the line.

He said his name was Steve, and he promised to get you out of there.

[ drabbles ]

late nights | 0.6k, fluff You and Steve stay up late, only for him to confess something while you're asleep.

reality | 0.2k, hurt and comfort "This is real. You are real."

new objective | 0.9k, fluff "I'm going to be a dad."

"Correction, you're going to be a great dad."

et toi? | 0.2k, fluff French lesson with Steve.

ring toss | 0.2k, fluff Steve is stupidly good at carnival games.

redolent | 0.6k, fluff He’s handed a bottle filled with a thick liquid and Steve has to hide his reaction when the smell hits him, pretending to be hungry when he feels like he might throw up.

bucky barnes

[ one-shots ]

loose ends | 1.2k, angst He picks up a photo on a bookshelf and Bucky sees her face, her smile between him and Steve and-

He’s breaking down a door, she’s screaming. Metal around her throat, nothing more than choked gasps from her mouth

-he does not want this memory back.

even a broken clock | 1.6k, hurt and comfort The scientist barks with laughter as he sees the timer on the severed limb, frozen at 25497:01:23:02. Bucky doesn’t understand.

“We’re doing you a favour, kid.”

And closes the door.

[ drabbles ]

a different kind of love | 0.6k, fluff “Our best friends are that awful ‘cute’ couple that make-out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and “babe” and god they’re awful let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “shit we’re the awful couple now”

make-believe | 0.2k, fluff “I told my sister I have a boyfriend so she’d stop trying to set me up with people but now she’s coming to visit and I’m in too deep I need a fake boyfriend ASAP"

alias | 0.4k, fluff “You give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and I just want to know your real name bc ur cute but here I am scrawling 'batman' onto your stupid cappuccino AU”

misunderstandings | 0.6k, fluff Could you write a story where Bucky is your new neighbor and you’ve talked but not much, but he likes you and wants to ask you out. But he hears you talking things like “hey handsome?! I’ve missed you!” and stuff like when you’re home and he assumes you’re dating someone… but what he doesn’t know is that you have a cat?

best of wives | 0.3k, fluff can i request a bucky or steve x reader where they’re not married but he keeps accidentally referring to her as his wife and doesn’t realize hes doing it until someone points it out to him?

tony stark

luxuries | 1.3k, hurt and comfort He’s not ready for this – he’s never been loved, not in the way she loves him.

thor odinson

limited | 0.4k, hurt and comfort "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

matt murdock

exs and ohs | 0.3k, fluff The reader is in the apartment when Elektra breaks in.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #thor x reader #matt murdock x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #thor odinson #matt murdock #mcu #the avengers #my writing

[thewritingofspencerrose]

New Years Eve

George Russell x Alonso!Reader

camilaalonso_ bringing in the new year with those i love most 🤍

tagged georgerussell, fernandoalo_oficial, and amelierose

merc1fan love that we get a mercedes x aston crossover purely because alonso's daughter called george hot in one interview and he ran with it

lando norizz so, how is spending new years with your in-law georgie?

alex albono yeah, this is what? year two that you've spent with alonso right?

russell george we don't even know how this keeps happening cami and i just looked up and he was there he didn't even know we'd be at this party

sharl lechair i thought you were going to propose tonight?

russell george ...

alex albono she didn't say no did she??

lando norizz she wouldn't say no, she's been in love with him since we joined the grid

"Something on your mind Georgie?" I can't help but ask, noticing how he's been fiddling all night, now with his phone, even before we realized Papa was here.

"No, no, everything is okay, why do you ask?" is his question, eyes wide as they meet my own. "The boys were just asking how I always end up spending new years with your father," He jokes before I can even offer and answer.

And I can't help but laugh. How do we always end up with my father on this holiday?

"My father is a teenager in a 42 year old's body," is the explanation I can offer, him laughing and wrapping me in his arms, kissing the top of my head while the party continues around us.

"Can we step outside? Away from the chaos?" His whispers reach my ears, his breath hot against the side of my head.

"Yeah, of course, are you sure you're okay, mi coraźon? You look a little red?"

I reach up to feel his forehead, but he catches my hand, kissing my palm before linking our hands, his body creating the path for us as I follow.

It's cold outside, the snow on the ground emphasizing the time of year that we find ourselves in as the clock ticks closer to midnight.

15 minutes, that's all that stands between us and the new year.

I can't help but shiver, it's my favorite time of year yet my body will never adjust to the temperatures after living in Monaco for a couple years.

"Here," Georgie prompts, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over my shoulders. "Can't have you starting the new year with a cold, now can we Love?"

"Thank you," Is my whispered response, pulling him to lean over the railing, eyes set on the snowy expanse of the country club, what is golf greens in the summer now just a blanket.

I can feel George moving away and I miss the heat he offered by just being beside me, my personal furnace for the last three years.

"Cami?"

Turning around at my name, every thought is leaves my mind at the sight in front of me.

"Camila Jade Alonso," George begins again, down on one knee with a box in one hand, his other reaching out for my own. "You have allowed me to be by your side for three years, four if you count the year I spent trying to convince your father to let me be with you," He reminisces, the both of us chuckling at the memory of a 2021 George trying everything in his power to get 'the great Fernando Alonso' to even acknowledge him outside the track, let alone date his daughter.

"From the moment I met you, I knew you would be the most important person in my life, and I can say one thing with certainty. Amor, eres el amor de mi vida y quiero seguir amándote hasta el día de mi muerte. ¿Quieres casarte conmigo? (Love, you are the love of my life and I want to continue loving you until the day I die. Will you marry me?)"

I've been nodding for the last minute, tears rolling down my cheeks as I hold a hand over my mouth to stop my cries from interrupting his sweet words.

Georgie stands, thumb coming up to brush the tears from my face with a smile brighter than the nights fireworks.

"So would that be a yes?"

"En cada vida diría sí a ser tu esposa (in every lifetime i would say yes to being your wife)."

"Cami, my knowledge of Spanish extends enough to only cover the words in my proposal and the curse words your father calls me from time to time," He reminds with a laugh, although you can tell my lack of a verbal answer is making him anxious.

"George William Russell," I begin again, running my hand through his hair. "In every lifetime I would say yes to being your wife."

"I was hoping that was your answer," He whispers, taking my hand to place the ring on, both of us smiling brightly as he looks back up to my face, bringing me into a kiss.

"I love you George Russell."

"Te quiero mas Camila pronto a ser Russell (I love you more Camila soon-to-be Russell)."

russell george she didn't say no, i hadn't asked her yet you're talking to a newly engaged man, boys

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell x oc #alonso!oc #fernando alonso x oc #engagement #new years eve

[neptunianmars]

manifesting with astrology

looking at your natal chart can provide insight to the best way for you to manifest your desires and dreams into your reality. manifesting is a strong tool lots of people use even subconsciously and it can make serious changes to your life <3 here are some things to look for in your natal chart to help you determine the best way for you to manifest: (these are all my personal interpretations and might not resonate with everyone!)

Jupiter:

this planet controls themes of luck, abundance, optimism, expansion, growth, all which play a part in manifestation.

i like to look at this placement specifically for how you should manifest.

the Jupiter placement in general can tell you how you will experience the most luck in life. so even if you're not manifesting something specific, God and the universe will grant you good karma overall.

if you have Jupiter in Cancer, you will experience the most good karma when you are nurturing and caring for others. if you have Jupiter in Capricorn, you will experience the most good karma when you are working hard toward your goals.

Part of Fortune:

the word Fortune in the name not only means material wealth, but spiritual wealth as well.

this placement shows where you are naturally at your happiest, which according to the law of attraction, will therefore attract good things for you.

if you have Part of Fortune in the 5H, then you will feel most at peace while creating or experiencing art like painting, writing, music, going to museums, watching movies/tv shows, reading, etc. so doing that kind of stuff will naturally elevate your mood which in turn will bring in good things in your life.

Neptune:

although there is science to back it up, manifestation definitely has a base in mysticism, which Neptune controls along with imagination, dreams, intuition.

because Neptune has domain over all of these subconscious entities, this placement can show us how to bring our manifestations out of the dream world into reality.

Neptune stays in a sign for about ten to twelve years, so it wouldn't be weird to find you and yours peers face the same struggles when it comes to reaching your goals. this is why i actually would look at what is opposing or squaring Neptune. what is keeping you or standing in the way of your desires manifesting?

a generation of people with Neptune in Aquarius are all going to struggle with getting their extreme ideas and innovations out into the world, but for different reasons. someone with Neptune in Aquarius opposite or square their Moon is going to be too emotionally insecure to get their ideas out, while someone with Neptune in Aquarius opposite or square their Mars will be too harsh or overwhelming to others.

North Node:

your North Node is the themes of this lifetime you need to learn, while the South Node is themes we've learned before in previous times. thus, the North Node is where you're destined to go and where we look to help us fulfill our life's true purpose.

using the themes of this placement that you are naturally destined for will help the manifestation process tremendously because it is something you are naturally gravitated to anyways

if your North Node is in Aries, one of the themes in this life you need to learn is selfishness. learning to say no, to put yourself first when you need to, and learning to be there for yourself. if you manifest stronger confrontational skills, or manifest stronger discipline for yourself, they will come easily because they are naturally aligned with what you are heading toward.

Venus:

manifestation is based on the law of attraction, and Venus literally controls attraction.

she's also important because most people are trying to attract Venus themes into their lives like harmony, beauty, wealth.

looking at this placement will show us what we naturally attract and what we are attracted to.

if you have Venus in Taurus, you naturally attract abundance and prosperity in the material world. you are going to naturally gravitate toward these things as well. so, these things are going to be extremely easy for you to manifest into your life like a raise at work, passive income, beautiful items, etc.

11H:

this house holds domain over our dreams and wishes, especially for the future, so looking to this placement will help you manifest things that really align with you.

if you Libra on your 11H, you might naturally dream for or want pleasant relationships in your life. an amazing friend group, a wonderful partner, great bonds with colleagues, etc. manifesting these relationships will come easier to you than others with, say, Aries on the 11H.

again, these are all my personal interpretations for manifesting with our natal chart. i look at these placements and utilize them in my manifesting personally and am more pleased with the results than when i used to just do whatever was trending on twitter.

please feel free to ask about your specific placements by replying or messaging me! it helps you and helps me as a practicing astrologer. also just a reminder that i offer readings which you can find info for on my pinned post :) happy tuesday!

#astrologer #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #cosmic witch #witch tumblr #manifesting #manifestation #astrology manifestation #manifest with me #jupiter #neptune #venus #11H #part of fortune #north node

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟐 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

“It’s a charity auction, not my judgement day.” You point out, smirking at your dad who’s adjusting his wig after sternly pointing a gavel at you. “Besides, I didn’t know that it was themed.”

“Maybe you should be the judge instead,” He says with a sarcastic scoff, handing over the gavel, “Put those skills to use.” 

You bang the gavel against the wooden table, shaking your head disapprovingly at him. “I sentence you to a lifetime of being unable to make lame dad jokes.” 

“Anything but that!” He gasps, collapsing to his knees in horror. “Give me mercy!”

“You know what to do.” You hold out your hand, gesturing for him to hand it over. He reluctantly takes out a fifty dollar bill from the pocket of his robe, slipping it into your palm discreetly with a handshake. You nod in approval, handing him back the gavel. “You have been pardoned.”

“Are you ready for the event yet?” 

“Yeah, I’m going as a Musketeer.” You hold up your sword, lazily uncrossing your legs where they’re placed on the coffee table. “En garde, my good man.” He chuckles at that, pretending to be defeated when you pretend to stab his side. He falls to the couch with a cry, smothering you with his entire body.

You gasp in surprise, only to get the air knocked out of you when he rolls over. “Get off me!” You demand, shoving him off playfully. He obliges with a cheeky smile, sitting next to you with dishevelled hair. 

“Right.” His phone chimes with a text. He skims over it quickly, getting up from the sofa and grabbing his gavel from the coffee table. “C’mon, Emily’s waiting for us at the museum. Her autograph session should be ending soon.”

Your fingers close around the sheath of the sword, hooking it onto your waist. Hopefully, no one would question why you had a real sword with you at a formal masquerade. Oh well, go big or go home, you suppose.

The car ride is peaceful enough in the beginning, but tension starts to rise when you approach the entrance of the museum. The majority of the ride was spent on the phone with Melody, texting back and forth about how excited she was to finally get the ninja's autograph, and how her date had gone.

The car slows to a halt, and you spot a plethora of reporters all crowded around a woman in a simple, yet suave black suit and a bejewelled black mask adorned with small crystals. Her hair is done into an impeccable ponytail, and a briefcase is placed on the table where she’s busy signing autographs. 

“A judge and a lawyer…?” You turn to your dad who has a sheepish smile on his lips after adorning his identical mask. “Very cute.” You remark sarcastically. The mask you’d taken out moments earlier feels cold in your hands, your thumb stroking the glittering red rubies that line the eye area. 

He simply shrugs. “You ready?” He gives you a moment to put on your mask before opening the door and stepping out. You hesitate briefly, glancing down at the sword. Nothing would happen, you decide, closing the car door behind you.

You go up the stairs together, making sure that no one accidentally steps on the hem of your cape. Luckily, you escaped unscathed. Emily spots you approaching, standing up with a bright smile. She holds her hands out to greet you, and you reluctantly let her take yours when your dad shoots you a look, gesturing to the reporters who swarm around you both.

“I’m so happy you could make it! You look stunning. I’m guessing a Musketeer?” She asks though the knowing glance directed at her husband reveals the fact that he’d already informed her of your costume before arriving. 

“Thanks. You look…good too.” It’s hard for a compliment to not sound sincere when it’s about her. No one can deny how pretty she is. Maybe that’s one of the factors why your dad had fallen for her in the first place. You retreat your hands after, starting to feel uncomfortable being under the scrutiny of all the cameras. 

Emily chuckles, accepting it gracefully. She looks at the line at her table filled with fans, seemingly realising how many more autographs she’ll have to sign. “You must be hungry. I’ll meet you inside after I’m done?”

Your dad wraps an arm around her shoulder, giving her a chaste kiss that makes you roll your eyes. “I’ll stay here. Why don’t you go mingle around? Maybe you’ll meet some new people from your school,” He says encouragingly. 

You merely shrug, turning to leave. The entrance of the museum is decorated lavishly with an arch covered in fairy lights. Various guests enter with partners and some without. They’re all dressed to the nines, of course, and you even spot a well-known reporter lounging on the side with a wine glass in hand.

You avoid most of the crowds, choosing to sit down in a space near the back where a bunch of comfortable chairs are. The spread of goodies and pastries does catch your eye, focused on the tantalising pan au chocolates that rest on the left of the table. A chandelier adorns the centre of the room, the light reflecting off of it in glittering beams.

They went all out for this event. After all with such public figures gracing it with their presence, how could they not? You stare curiously at a hallway to your left, intrigued by some of the exhibitions you can see inside. Was that a dinosaur skeleton at the end?

You’d be sure to check it out after you’d gotten ahold of some of those delectable pastries, though. As you approach the table, you become aware of some of the whispers in the room growing louder. Luckily, there’s still some form of security at the doorway, poised to take action just in case anything happens. 

As you move for the pan au chocolate, another hand reaches over and grabs the exact one you’ve been eyeing. 

What the fu-

Your lips part, about to protest. The words die at the tip of your tongue when you see exactly who’s the person beside you. He looks familiar, well-built and impeccably dressed. You’re not sure exactly where you’ve seen him before, but there’s just something about him you recognise.

Maybe it’s his hair or his outfit? His shoes…?

You watch the stranger dressed as a… actually, you’re not sure what he’s dressed as. Either way, he takes a huge bite from the pastry in his hand, humming in content. He’s wearing a simple suit, but his mask is decorated rather simply. His sigh of satisfaction amuses you, letting a slow smile spread across your lips and all of your shock from his sudden appearance (and taking away the beloved pastry of course), fades away.

He freezes when he registers you staring at the half-eaten pastry in his hands, glancing between it and you. “Were you gonna take this?” He asks sheepishly, gradually lowering it back down onto his plate with a guilty smile.

You wave it off, take another and put it on your empty plate. “It’s fine. It’s just a pastry.” 

Doesn’t hurt that he’s kinda cute either.

He chuckles. The melodious sound makes your breath hitch, looking away to take a bite, and chewing thoughtfully. “This is good. I wonder which company they got it from.”

“Oh, I know! It’s Papa’s Cakeria. You see, their butter has a really sweet aftertaste, and their chocolates are sourced organically, which is why it’s so clean and not overly sweet. Their cupcakes are really good too, but that’s in another store-” He cuts off his ramble when he notices the amused grin on your face, clearing his throat and taking another bite of his pastry.

You notice the flush on his cheeks, deciding to do him the favour of remaining oblivious to it. “I take it you’re a fan of their store?”

“I’ve tried a few things here and there.” He polishes off his pastry in a few more quick bites, reaching for a slice of chocolate cake next. “The thing about Papa’s though, is that they make their stuff to order, so you always have to order in advance.”

“Dang, so I can’t just waltz in and grab one?” You frown, disappointed by this piece of news. “Maybe I should find some Tupperware or something…” You mumble, though he seems to overhear. He clears his throat, taking out his phone and showing you the screen. 

“This is their website. You should order at least two days in advance though, so you can secure a spot. I know the owners, so I can help you speed up a pastry or two if you ever need it.” He offers. You quickly take a picture with a delighted smile, pocketing your phone happily. 

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. I’ll be sure not to abuse the privilege, though.” You say warmly, your joking words drawing a laugh out of him.

He shakes his head in amusement. “Anything for a fellow pastry-lover.”

“So, what’s your name?”

He pauses a forkful of cake halfway to his mouth. “My name’s Cole.” 

Oh?

Wasn’t the guy at the comic book store also named Cole? The very guy who coincidentally turned out to be your soulmate? But the man standing in front of you now is completely different from his frigid, cold and angsty demeanour. 

However, his eyes glint with the same gold tint when the light reflects off of them, and although his hair is styled a little differently, his wavy strands are still the same. The only thing different is his outfit and his attitude. 

“Hold on.” You place the plate down, taking a moment to gather yourself. The complete overturn of his brash attitude toward you yesterday is a stark contrast to his current one. The drastic difference gives you whiplash, even mistaking him for a gentleman. “You’re sure your name is Cole?”

“I’m pretty sure,” He chuckles, nonchalantly continuing to munch on his cake. Your hand subconsciously grips the hilt of your sword, fight or flight instinct creeping up on you. You didn’t want to feel as powerless as you did last time when he’d forcefully dragged you into that alleyway. That’s not how your mother raised you. 

His curious eyes signal another unsaid question. Before he can ask it, however, a calm, yet friendly voice interrupts.

“Cole! Where were you? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A man dressed similarly as Cole asks worriedly, making his way over. He notices you, glancing at Cole who stares back just as cluelessly. “And who is this?”

“She was just about to tell me.” Cole shrugs.

The presence of his relaxed and soothing voice does ease your nerves a little, letting go of the hilt. You take another moment to compose yourself before saying your name. So much for not seeing each other ever again. You’re not sure if it’s fate or luck, but either way, you’d be sure to not let him realise now that you’re his soulmate. 

Now that you’ve regained your composure, though, you realise one fundamentally wrong with the picture-perfect scene in front of you of the two boys chatting with each other. 

One of them has metal as skin. 

You don’t want to be rude, so you decide not to point it out. After all, he seems nice enough. You take a step toward the cake, Cole noticing and helping you take a slice. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, though your gaze flits over to the very person you’re dying to not ask. 

Cole spots this, clearing his throat and introducing his friend. “This is Zane.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He takes your hand and places a small kiss on it. You’re too stunned by this sudden move to reply, processing his name. It rings a faint bell, finally placing his face. 

“You’re the Ice Ninja,” You state simply. He nods, confirming your words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” You hurriedly add to not seem impolite. Melody’s reminder nudges a small corner in your mind, the wheels finally turning. You hurriedly take out an album of the ninja from the hidden pocket of your vest, along with a marker. 

“I know we just met, but I was wondering if you’d do me a favour. Could you sign this for a friend of mine? Her name’s Melody. She’s a really big fan of the ninja.” Zane takes the marker and signs it with a smile, adding a small message at the end before handing it back to you. 

“I hope this will suffice?” 

“It’ll more than suffice, thank you!” You say gratefully, putting away the album before noticing Cole’s outstretched hand. “Can I help you…?”

“It’s nothing.” He coughs, retracting it. Zane glances at him curiously, about to say something before he’s silenced by a quick shake of his friend’s head. You watch the whole exchange go down with an oblivious smile, focusing purely on the rest of the buffet spread. 

“I have to go check on Master Wu now, but I hope you enjoy the party. It was nice meeting you.” The words are just empty formalities, but there’s a sense of sincerity in Zane’s voice, along with a hint of amusement.

Cole holds up his plate with a different cake now on it, the yellow sponge with buttercream nestled between its layers making your mouth water. “Want another slice?” 

You agree with an eager nod, humming happily when the scent of lemon fills your mouth upon taking a bite. “So tell me, fellow cake enthusiast, how does one simply get to know the Ice Ninja enough for him to be so familiar with you?”

“We’ve been friends for a while now.” His words intrigue you, though you can’t help but still feel wary around him. It doesn’t seem like he’s realised who you are yet though, so that’s a relief. “I think it’s been like, what, five years? I can’t remember anymore,” He laughs. “Besides that, it seems like this friend of yours knows her stuff.”

“She does. She became a fan a couple of months ago and every time she rambled about them I’d kinda tune her out,” You admit sheepishly. He raises a brow in interest. “In my defence, it’s almost always the same thing about how Kai’s the strongest or something.”

He takes a break from yet another slice of cake to take a sip of water. “Well, you should never say that around him, that’s for sure,” He muses.

Seriously though, how is this guy downing cakes faster than you can talk?

“I take it he’s another friend of yours?” 

“You could say that. He’s more like an annoying brother that needs to be given a good whack every now and then to bring his ego back down to earth.”

“If you’re their friend, could you do me a favour?” He tilts his head. 

“Anything for my fellow cake enthusiast,” he replies, cheekily quoting you from earlier.

“Could you help me get his autograph too? I kinda need autographs from all of them, and if I don’t keep my promise to her…There’ll be consequences, that’s for sure.” Your emotionless smile makes him laugh, already resigning yourself to the fate of a hospital bill to be paid for your poor finger.

“What kind of consequences?”

“Broken pinky finger, y’know the usual.” You reply with a shrug, handing him the album and marker. “Pretty please?”

Cole takes it from you with a playful salute. “You have my word.”

He disappears into the crowd, and your shoulders instantly relax in relief. It’s incredible how he hasn’t noticed, considering that you’ve only just met yesterday. Then again, both of you look vastly different and even have masks on. It’s insane how different he is though, to a stranger who shares his clear fondness for cake, compared to his interaction with his actual soulmate. 

Your fingers curl into fists, mildly infuriated by this fact. 

Are you, his soulmate, not even worthy of civil conversation?

Ridiculous.

With that thought, you suddenly feel much better about your own reaction to him yesterday. Regret fills your chest when you think about how you could’ve given him another punch yesterday. Alas, what’s done is done. 

You’re about to gorge yourself on the rest of the buffet when a blaring siren starts to resound through the halls, murmurs and confused whispers filling the air. The sound is familiar. A fire drill, perhaps. 

Who’s the idiot that’d set fire to a museum of artefacts?

“Please remain calm everyone, and follow the ninja to evacuate safely.” A staff member announces, flashing their staff ID to reassure everyone that they can be trusted because, y’know, authoritative figures usually have a big badge. 

Unfortunately, the presence of said authoritative figure doesn’t calm everyone else’s nerves. The people around you are filled to the brim with panic, and you spot a few trembling hands here and there. What are they so scared of? It’s not like they’ll get hurt with the ninja around, right?

Your mask slips off in the rush of people scrambling to the exit, roughly bumping against you in the process. You’re just about to pick it up when someone’s foot kicks it away. Annoyed, you make your way toward it, pushing past the panic. Again and again, it’s constantly kicked away from you. 

Why are you even making so much effort to get it? A small voice whispers in the back of your mind. You push past another person with gritted teeth, finally making your way to where it’s landed in the corner of the atrium. 

The answer is simple — because it’s made with actual emeralds.

Or is it because Emily gifted it to you? The same small voice pokes at your patience, trying to get you to admit an answer that doesn’t exist. It’s valuable, that’s all there is to it. 

You spot a shadowed figure slipping away into a different hallway. Suspicious, you glance around. Good, no one’s paying attention to a simple musketeer in this panic. You skulk around the corner, keeping close to the walls as your fingers close around the hilt of your sword. 

The further you walk away from the main rooms, the fainter the sounds of chaos. The lights are oddly dim, and a few flickers, giving an ominous feel to the room of scrolls that you enter. A hooded figure stands under a painting of an old man, an ancient scroll in their hand. They're engrossed, reading it intently to the point they don’t even notice your presence.

You draw your sword, the light reflecting off of it alerting the suspicious person when it shines on the painting. They turn instantly, rolling up the scroll and stuffing it into their cloak. “Who are you?” You demand. 

Upon seeing you, their shoulders relax, a shadowed smirk on their lips almost as if to say ‘Oh look, I’ve been caught by a costumed musketeer’. Unfortunately for them, you’d taken a few lessons in kendo. 

Sure, maybe you’ve never bested your master to this day, but whatever skills or muscle memory you have, you’d have to utilise it to the best of your abilities. A sense of unease stirs something uncomfortable in your stomach, eyeing their shapeless figure and trying to figure out what exactly seemed so off about this person.

They watch you, making no move to defend themselves. They’re waiting, you realise, to see what you’re going to do next. “I will use this,” You threaten, though the way you glance around the room draws a muffled laugh out of them. 

Are they…amused?

“Over here!” A voice echoes down the hallway, just out of sight. This alerts them, glancing between the skylight and you before seemingly deciding that being caught isn’t worth the entertainment value you provide. 

Before you can react, they punch the ground, revealing an arm covered in a strange contraption, reminding you of a gauntlet. The tiled floor caves below you, and you fall into a pit of their making. “Hey!” You shout, scrambling to your feet, watching them easily manoeuvre their way to the skylight and exit without a problem.

“Damn it,” You mumble, sheathing your fallen sword with a frown. They’d taken the scroll with them. So much for being a musketeer and bringing justice. Looking around, you try to climb your way out of the pit. However, your attempts are in vain as the ground easily crumbles beneath your fingers, giving you the honour of letting you fall again and again.

You grumble, sitting down. May as well wait for someone to arrive. 

Butt, meet ground. 

The light is momentarily blocked by a shadow. You squint, looking up to see someone staring down at you. He jumps down from above, landing with ease. You scan him briefly, taking in his black gi and hood that covers his face. The Earth Ninja. Once his gaze lands on you, however, he does a double take.

Recognition flashes in his eyes for a fleeting moment. He shakes his head, refusing to let it sidetrack him from his duty. "There’s someone down here!" he urgently calls to what you suppose is another person above, before pivoting back to you. You regard him with an air of suspicion, mildly confused about his reaction toward you.

His voice, his piercing gaze, his build…Finally, finally, the puzzle pieces click into place. You stare at him, ignoring his concerned hand reaching out for you. “Come on! We gotta get out of here!”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

You reluctantly take it, allowing him to tug your body into his arms as he hauls you out of the pit. Landing on solid ground jolts you, and you grumpily hit his arm, sending him a signal to at least make your journey more comfortable. 

He accepts it with a muffled huff under his hood, manoeuvring you with care until both of you stand outside. You let go of his arm, taking a step back and brushing yourself off. The weight of his gaze lingered on you, and you met his eyes head-on. A flinch gives him away, and he awkwardly turns, feigning interest in checking on other civilians who had also escaped unharmed, thanks to the rest of the ninjas.

You can’t help the exasperated sigh that brushes past your lips, crossing your arms. “Of course, my soulmate’s the fucking earth ninja.”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader

[sacredthefran]

Cream & Sugar

Pairing: Jake Kiszka + Female Reader  Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Some Drinking, Oral Sex (M receiving). 18+. Minors DNI Word Count : 10.2k  Authors Notes: The recent pics of Jake have been giving me sugar daddy vibes. This is my first smut. I’m scared. I’m thinking about making this a series but I’m not 100% sure yet  Enjoy :) 

Part 2 (x)

Tick tock.Tick Tock. You glanced at the clock on the far wall from your cubicle. Just two more hours, you kept repeating to yourself. See, your job wasn’t horrible, it’s just been a hell of a day. Monday’s, gotta love them, right? You woke up late, your car wouldn’t start, spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse and heels. But the thing that really topped your morning off? Receiving a letter stating that you had a week and some spare days to pay your rent up to date or you were going to be homeless. To be fair, your landlord has been an angel for the past couple of months. Your payments have been consecutively late or you just haven’t paid for a couple of months. You guessed they decided that enough was enough. As close to homelessness as you were, none of your friends or family would let that happen, they would take you under their wing in a heartbeat. But the last thing you needed right now was your father giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

“Now y/n, you know damn well that if you were falling behind on bills that you could’ve told us. We have no problem helping you out.” 

Your mother and father still viewed you as their little girl– constantly ignoring the fact that you were a grown twenty-five year old college graduate and one of the only women actually holding a position other than  “secretary” at your law firm. Granted you were just an intern, still-it felt like a huge accomplishment. American Justice wasn’t the biggest firm in Chicago. None of the lawyers here have yet to receive a big case or have any big name clients. Slowly but surely, American Justice was starting to gain more attention. But, that didn’t really matter to you. You were willing to do anything it takes to make a name for yourself.  

“Hey, fuck face. Come take a smoke with me.” 

Oh Beth, she always had a way of making a grand entrance. With a swift roll of your eyes, you grabbed your pack of Marlboro Menthol Ice and headed towards her.

“You okay? You’re looking a little stressed. All that stress is going to make you need botox.” 

You turned to her with a quizzical look.

 She backtracked, “Not that you need it right now, but you keep furrowing your eyebrows. Those wrinkles are going to catch up to you sooner than you realize.” 

Grabbing Beth's arm you started a brisk walk towards the doors, “Yeah, yeah. You got a lighter or am I going to have to ask one of the pricks upstairs?” 

“You know I always have a lighter.” 

You inhaled the nicotine and exhaled the stress. Silently hoping that all the comments about your stress were over. It turns out Beth wasn’t finished with that conversation quite yet. After taking a long drag - she speaks her mind once again. 

“C’mon y/n out with it, I can tell that something is going on with you. Lie all you want but I know when something is eating you up. What is it? Guy issues? I thought you kicked the last guy to the curb. Or were you lying to me about that? You better not have been. Wait, I know exactly what it is!” She exclaimed. “It’s money issues isn’t it?” 

Dammit, she was always so good at reading you. While being at the ripe age of thirty-six, Beth has experienced some things. She has a habit of telling people bits and pieces, but never the full story. 

“Okay, okay. If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I mean anyone.” You looked at Beth with hope that she would promise you to keep her lips sealed. 

“Damn kid, did you kill someone or something?” Beth chuckled, but it dropped the minute she saw how serious you were. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t say anything”. 

You took a deep breath and mumbled. 

“Huh? You know I’m old, I can't hear you.” Beth spoke. 

“I’m so far behind on all my bills! I'm going to be homeless in a week if I don’t pay my rent. I can’t be homeless, I can’t move back in with my family. I can’t do it Beth, I just can’t do it.” You finally lifted your eyes to meet Beth’s. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, you can always just move in with me and my family.” 

As much as you loved Beth, it wasn’t ideal. She had a nice little townhouse filled with her husband and three kids. You loved kids– actually, you absolutely adored them. You couldn’t wait to have your own, but you just didn’t want to deal with them in your twenties. 

“Beth you know I love you, but I can’t do that.” 

Beth started chuckling “Oh, I know. I wouldn’t want you to deal with those little crotch gremlins. They make me want to rip my hair out and I’m their mother. I can only imagine what they’ll do to you.” She always had a way of making you laugh when you wanted to cry. It just wasn’t working this time.

 “Beth……I’m serious. What the hell am I going to do? I’m scared.” You felt teardrops starting to leak out of your eyes. 

“It’s easy. Just become an escort,” Beth shrugged her shoulders as if she was just mentioning what she wanted for lunch.

 “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?” You huffed.

 “Easy tiger, maybe not an escort but a sugar baby.” 

Beth must be out of her mind.

“Look, I know it's not an ideal situation for you. Trust me, there are good men out there who just don’t have time to date, they just want someone to talk to. Maybe occasionally fuck, and they just so happen to pay you for your time.”  

You looked at her with so many questions in mind. “How do you know so much about being a sugar baby?”

Beth started chuckling once again.  “Wipe that stank look off your face. I used to be one. I did it for two years before I started law school. I was able to make enough money to put myself through school and I didn’t have to work. I know it sounds crazy, honestly, you should just try it. I’ve been out of the game for a long time, but I’ve kept in contact with one of the girls, Deandra. She’s still in the business and I bet that she would help you out.”

Beth kept on rambling. 

“Matter of fact, she asked me if I would be interested in this one guy, but obviously I turned it down because I have Dean now. I can send you this guy’s number. That’s all she supplied me with. Deandra does a background check on any guy that comes across her radar - weeds out the bad ones and handpicks all the ones that seem promising. He’s too young for her to deal with. You know what? Y/n you don’t have a choice in the matter, I’m sending his info over tonight.”  

She put her hand up quickly before you could retort. “Do not try to fight me on this. You won't win.” 

With a roll of your eyes you and Beth hooked arms and headed back inside, you to your desk and her to her office.  She’s crazy, you thought. Glancing at the clock, you sighed happily knowing you only had one hour and forty-five minutes left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of hours later and just a little tipsy off of some Cabernet, you were finally taking a relaxing bubble bath. Probably the last bubble bath in this apartment, that thought kept replaying in your head. A flash of light caught your attention, looking over onto the floor you noticed it was text from Beth. Realizing that she actually did it, she actually sent you the contact information for  this man. At least she gave you a name this time ; Jake. Jake, okay that’s not an old man’s name. Maybe you could do this, maybe you could go on a couple of dates with him, listen to him bitch about how hard his life is and make a couple of thousand. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? After downing the rest of the blood red liquid, you managed to draft up a text. Even after the three glasses of liquid-courage, you still felt yourself having trouble finding the right words to say. Here goes nothing.  

Y/n- Hello, I’m not really sure how to go about this…. but I’m y/n. I got your number from Deandra. She mentioned to me that you were looking for a special type of arrangement. 

After sending that text, you decided you weren’t going to sit around and wait for a response. He probably won’t respond anyway, he’s probably going to wonder about why Deandra pawn off his info to someone else. You decided to put your phone on airplane mode until you were finished with your nighttime routine. However, it was almost as if Jake knew that you were planning on not waiting around for his text..

Jake- Y/n, what a pleasure it is to finally hear from you. I was wondering when you were going to message me. Deandra informed me Beth had a gorgeous woman that would reach out to me 

Fuck. How in the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Maybe you need another glass of wine. 

Y/n- Charming. I wanted to text you and see what kind of a deal we could make. Or how this whole process goes. Sorry. I’m just new to this whole type of arrangement. 

Great, now he’s going to know that you’re inexperienced. Way to go y/n. The time seemed to tick by at the speed of molasses. Finally, your phone dinged with the familiar text notification.

Jake- No need to apologize. Deandra already mentioned to me that you wouldn’t know how to go about this whole situation. You’re a smart girl, we’ll figure it out. Besides, everyone has to start out somewhere. I think that we should ease into this relationship. Since you’re new to it. I don’t want to scare you off before I get to experience the lovely y/n in action. Matter of fact, how about we meet Friday night for dinner? 

Breathe in, breathe out y/n. It’s just a simple dinner. You can do this, just pretend you’re meeting up with an old friend. It’ll be easy. 

You- That sounds perfect. What restaurant do you have in mind? What time would you like for me to meet you there? 

Jake- Don’t worry about the restaurant. I’ll make a reservation. I will have a driver come pick you up. His name is Taylor. He will be there precisely at 5. Sharp. Make sure you are ready to go. Please make sure that you are wearing a green dress. I think that it compliments your skin tone well. I look forward to seeing you. 

You- 1)How do you know what the hell I look like? 2) How do you know where I live? 3) I don’t wear green, I prefer purple. 

Jake- Like I stated before, make sure the dress is green. I don’t do well with people disobeying me. Don’t worry about how I know those details, I know a lot of people in this city. It’s late, you need to go to bed. Have a goodnight Ms.y/l/n.

What the hell am I doing? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days seemed to fly by. Jake texted you off and on that week. It seemed as if he was excited to see you, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. Tuesday morning you were met with Beth’s beaming face proclaiming that she wanted to know all of the details. Who are you to refuse Beth? It felt nice just to get it out of your system and express all your worries. Of course, the biggest worry was that this man already knew your last name and where you live. 

 “Oh, that’s easy. I had Deandra tell him your full name and I guess he did his own research to figure out your address”. 

Beth then proceeded to tell you that this was normal in the industry, especially as someone of his status. Having little to no details about Jake, you decided to trust Beth’s judgment. She kept promising that he was a good man all throughout the week. Almost like a broken record. Every time you would ask for more information about Jake she would shut you down. Apparently he was the type of guy who wanted to keep all his details private until a deal was made. Cause that’s not sketchy at all.

Wednesday came and went. Thursday morning you walked into work to see a bouquet of flowers on your desk. Attached to them was a little note “I hope that this finds you well, in the envelope there’s a couple of hundreds. Like I stated before, I'm expecting you in green. Wouldn’t want for you to receive a punishment during our first meeting.  I look forward to seeing you tomorrow - Jake” . 

There was no way this was actually happening. Peaking into the envelope, reality started to hit you. You were actually going to meet this mystery man and let him pay your way through life for the next couple of months. Your inner feminist was screaming at you, it told you to run–preferably away from this whole situation. Your conscience was begging you to just forget about this and go back to your parents. Deciding against your better judgment, you ended up taking Beth out shopping to find a little green number that would drive this man crazy.

“That’s it!” Beth proclaimed. You did a final look in the mirror acknowledging Beth's statement. 

After going to countless stores; trying on every green dress possible. You finally opted for something short and lacey. Usually you want to cover every part of your body, but if you were going to commit to this sugar baby bit, why not buy something that is guaranteed to keep all of his attention on you? The dress came just below your fingertips, thank God for dresses that cinch around the waist, it accentuated your hourglass figure. Every curve on your body was looking right and let’s not forget how the cups in the dress were pure lace. Looks like there was no way for you to wear a bra, fuck it.  

Friday morning came faster than you could imagine. Maybe it was the nerves or maybe it was the fact that you wanted to make sure you looked perfect for Jake tonight, after all, your life was betting on how dinner would go. It’s been a while since you had to dress for male validation. You were putting on your shoes when a knock on the door startled you. 

Looking out of the peephole, you noticed a man standing on the other side of the door seemingly to look directly in your eyes through the small glass circle. “Uh hello?” You opened the door with a shaky breath. 

“I work for Mr. Kiszka. I’m Taylor. I’m going to be your driver for the night. I was given specific orders to be at the restaurant by five-thirty ma’am. Let's get a move on. Mr. Kiszka doesn’t take too kindly to people wasting his time. I’m sure he’s mentioned that to you before”. 

No. Fucking. Way. It can’t be. There’s no way that Jake is Jacob Kiszka. He was one of the most notorious lawyers on the scene right now.  Jake was a practicing lawyer at New Horizons Family Law. It was the biggest firm in Chicago. Jacob Kiszka was a force to be reckoned with, he rarely lost a case. Word on the street was that his clients were actually a part of organized crime, instead of “family law”. Standing in your doorway, you prayed that you wouldn’t stick your foot in your mouth and ask him about his clients tonight. You figured that it would scare Jake away more than anything. You were pulled away from your overthinking to Taylor clearing his throat and pointing at his watch. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Taylor’s dismay, you actually arrived at five thirty-five. Exiting the car you came to the realization that you have no clue if you should wait out front for Jake or if you should already be seated when he gets here. Turning to Taylor you asked him what option would be best, with a huff and puff he told you to go to the host and tell them you’re with Mr. Kiszka. No questions would be asked.

Following his directions, you were shocked at how fast the host was scurrying to get you to a table.

He led you past all the tables in the restaurant, noticing the look of fear in your eyes, he mumbled “Mr. Kiszka is one of our high profile guests. He likes to have all of his meetings in a private room.” 

It was all starting to click with you. Jacob Kiszka is the man that you have been texting all week leading up to this moment. Once you finally were seated, the host froze as the door on the left was whipped open. Something was telling you that he wasn’t supposed to be here when Jake arrived.. 

Oh. My. God. All your suspicions from earlier were true. Standing in the doorway was Jake Kiszka. Before you could get a good look at him the host ran out of the room mumbling a quick “I’m sorry”.  

Slowly making his way over to you, you were observing as many details as you could. The first thing you noticed was his hair was pulled back, giving you a perfect view of his angelic face, he was wearing black dress pants with a white shirt unbuttoned all the way down to the beginning of his torso. He wore a golden pendant that rested gently in the middle of his chest, you just wanted to reach out and touch him. He didn’t seem real.  Once your eyes finally met his, Jake gave you a smirk. Hopefully he didn’t see you looking at him like an art collector finding an undiscovered Davinci. 

“Well, I hope you’re done checking me out. I’m ready to have a seat now,” Jake said smugly. 

“Oh, of course. Have a seat. I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Not only did Jake call you out for ogling him, his smile grew tenfold when he realized how rosy your cheeks were getting under his gaze. 

“I know who you are and you know who I am. I think we can skip past all this small talk and actually start to get to know each other. I also wanted to apologize for being late. I had a meeting with my client run over. But, I guess that doesn’t really matter since you were late too.” Jake replied with a smug grin.

 “I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be late. I couldn’t find my shoes,” you stuttered nervously. 

“So you want to start our relationship off on a bad note?”

 You gave him a quizzical look.

 “Taylor told me that you were ready to go but you just couldn’t stop daydreaming about me. So much so that it made you late. I don’t do well with people who are late. I expect proper punctuality from now on. It’s okay, I'll let it slip this time. By the way I noticed that you followed my request and wore green. Good Girl.” 

You’d hate to admit it, but those two little words had you squeezing your thighs together. No one could blame you for that. This man practically dripped sex. It’s like he knew what he was doing to you. 

“Tell me princess, or do you prefer y/n?”

 Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally met his gaze. “Princess works for me.”

 Jake grinned at your acknowledgement of your pet name already. “Do I live up to your expectations? Or should I pack it up and send you on your merry way?” He already knew the answer to that question, he just wanted the confirmation from you that you were attracted to him and willing to do anything that he wanted. 

“No, you definitely meet my expectations.” Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Good Job y/n. Now he’s going to think you’re desperate. Jake kept beaming at you, he really was as cheeky as all the rumors stated him to be. As he was about to answer, a waitress came through the door. Saved by the bell. 

“Sorry to interrupt, I was wondering if you guys were ready to order?” She offered both of you a smile.

 Without breaking your eye contact Jake responded, “We’ll have a bottle of Cuvee Indigene and the chefs special. Thank you.” 

You looked at him with an open mouth. 

“What?” He looked at you confused.

 “Cuvee Indigene? That’s an expensive bottle, I don’t want you to feel like you have to impress me.” You stated matter of factly. 

 Jake interrupted you by sucking his teeth. “I’m not trying to impress you, I know you like Chardonnay, so why not get you top of the line? I’m about to wire some money into your bank account so I wouldn’t be worrying about how expensive the bottle is if I were you. Also, close your mouth unless that’s an invitation for me to put something in it." 

If it wasn’t possible before, your jaw was practically on the floor. Who the fuck does he think he is? Your inner feminist wanted to smack the hell out of him. But as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was making you feel things that you weren’t supposed to. Judging by how dark your eyes got, Jake could sense it too.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was trying to see how turned on he could get you and how far he could push his limits. 

Once again, the door to your left opened and you could hear the noise from the outside. Something to distract you away from this awkward conversation. You noticed in her hand that she had the bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand. Thank you, Jesus. As she went to pour some wine in your glass Jake waved her off and insisted on doing it himself. 

“Now, now. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl?” 

My girl. You barely know this man and he's already staking his claim. Taking the wine glass in your hand, you reached it out towards him to fill up. Even though there was clearly a power imbalance in between you two, you still wanted to make it known to him that you weren’t some run-of-the-mill sugar baby. You actually would let him boss you around and ruin you, but you didn’t want him to know that yet. You had to keep some semblance of composure. 

“Relax Princess, no need to start getting hostile. I just want to show you what it’s like to have someone take care of you.” 

Aaaand there the cheekiness is again. He kept filling your glass until it was a half inch from the top. 

“Drink up, we have a long night ahead of us.” 

Yes, Sir. 

Once again the room was filled with silence, it was like neither of you knew what to say to each other. It didn’t feel like it was the proper atmosphere for you to ask him what his favorite movie or color was. Think y/n. Think. You were sweating bullets thinking about what he was implying with “long night”. 

If you knew anything about Jake, you would be able to tell that he felt like he stuck his foot in his mouth. He didn’t want to come off too cocky, Jake was attracted to you and wanted to make you aware of it, but he wasn’t sure how to do so. Just as Jake parted his lips to speak, he was interrupted by the waitress coming back into the room. 

“Sorry, to interrupt you guys again, but the food is ready.” She glanced at the couple with a nervous smile. You felt bad for the poor girl. You could pick up that Jake’s demeanor made her nervous. As she set down the dishes, he kept a stone cold stare at the back of her head. You waited until she left and then cleared your throat. 

 “Mr. Kiszka, what are these dishes exactly?” 

“Please, call me Jake. Have you ever had French before?”

 You quickly shook your head no. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when I suggested French? And this dish is called Bouillabaisse. The chef is a personal friend of mine, I made sure that he used Cod instead of Sea Bass, it tastes better.” 

You kept your gaze down. 

“If you don't like it, I’m sure I can speak to him and have him make you something different.”

When you finally looked up at him, he was biting his lip–staring at you intently. 

“No, no. I’m good with it. I didn’t even try it, I was just wondering what it was.” After you stated that, you quickly took a bite to ease his nerves. Damn y/n, you barely know this man and you’re already aiming for his approval.

Jake smiled at this and kept making small talk over the course. 

“So what’s the main reason why you wanted to be a sugar baby, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Well, it looks like that was the end of the small talk. You gulped down the remainder of the first wine glass and started motioning for him to fill it up again.

 “Do you want the real reason or do you want me to give you some bullshit excuse?” 

Jake was in the motion of filling up your glass and looked you dead in the eyes. “I always want the truth, if we are going into this type of relationship I need you to be a hundred percent honest with me. At all times. Do I make myself clear?”

Clear as crystal. 

“Does the same apply to you?” You asked him in a venom-ridden voice. 

“Of course it does. I know you don’t know how these types of situations work, but I like to run all my relationships based on honesty and trust. If you don’t have trust with your partner, then there isn’t a relationship. That applies to business and personal. You should know that, being a lawyer and all.” 

So Beth wasn’t lying. Someone of his status does their research. Well, there goes the thought about being able to lie about why you needed the money. You finally pulled your gaze away from the floor and made eye contact.

 “I don’t come from a wealthy family, as much as my parents say they would love to help me, they wouldn’t be able to handle it. If they paid my rent and the bills that I'm behind on, that would put them in the hole. I can’t do that to them. As you know I’m a lawyer, well not yet, technically. I passed my bar but American Justice wont let me practice yet. They want to keep me as an intern. So obviously, they’re not paying me enough. Ever since this damn pandemic, I haven’t been able to support myself. Everything is just starting to add up. Monday I got a letter threatening to evict me if I couldn’t pay the past two months rent by next Thursday. Frankly, I’m just scared. I don’t want to come across as a failure to my parents.”

 Jake interrupted your rambling “How would you be a failure?”

You looked at him like he had three heads, “How wouldn’t I? I left for school telling them that I was going to be somebody. I can’t show up on their doorstep years later begging for a place to stay.” You could feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes. Jake noticed this, in an attempt to stop you from crying he reached across the table and rubbed your arm. 

“American Justice just wants to keep you as an intern?” You slowly nodded your head at him. “Have you thought about applying to different firms?” 

“Of course I have. You don’t think I’ve done that already?” You huffed back at him.

“First off, watch your tone when speaking to me. I’m just trying to help you. After all, this whole arrangement is about me helping you. If you don’t like the way I speak then feel free to leave. The door is right there, princess. Nothing’s holding you here.” 

Except the fact that you needed his money. 

After realizing that you weren’t attempting to flee the scene, Jake cleared his throat. “I read over your essays from law school. Specifically your thesis about Women's Rights. I’m friends with Roxanne from Sisterhood Movement. Have you tried there? Roxanne would take you under her wing. She would help you build your cases. Roxy is all about empowering women.” 

Jake was studying your face. He couldn’t make out your expression. 

Looking down at the table, you took a deep breath. “I can’t apply to Sisterhood Movement. Are you kidding me?”

 “Why can’t you?” He countered back.

 “They’re all powerful names over there. They take on the most high profile cases. I don’t mean just the cases in Chicago, I’m talking about the cases that they take all across the States. As much as I love Roxanne’s work, I don’t want to go over there and ruin everything she’s worked for. I’m just not ready to take on cases of discrimination and sexual harassment yet. I just can’t do it, Jake” God, you sound so insecure right now. Pull it together. 

Jake could see the tears forming in your eyes again. He understood that he had to wait until he knew you a little bit better before he could keep pressing the issue with you. “Okay, okay. I won’t keep pestering you about it.” 

After that statement, you felt like you could look him in the eyes once more. 

“Thank you.” 

He smiled weakly at you. “Of course. Now, is there anything that you want to ask me?” 

Well there is one thing. 

 “Out with it. You’re biting your lip. If you’ve got something to ask then just ask.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or your nerves but you quickly blurted out “Are you actually a defense attorney for the mafia or is that just a rumor?”.

His eyes turned ice cold at that moment. 

“I don’t think that’s anything for you to know. You should know that I do not disclose my clients information. If you were worried about me being connected to the mob, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would you?” You hated the fact that warmth started to flood all over your body. 

He sensed a change in your breathing pattern. “Now, anything logical you want to ask me? Or do you want to keep sticking your foot in your mouth?”  Your jaw dropped open again. 

“Princess, I thought I told you earlier to keep your mouth closed. You’re practically begging for me to put something in there.”

 Instead of replying to that comment you decided to lean forward just enough that he could see your cleavage. Two can play this game. 

Innocently, you traced the rim of the glass. “Mr. Kiszka, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just asking a simple question.” 

Jake could feel himself harden. He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table at that moment. Jake wasn’t dumb, he knew what you were trying to do to him.  “You should really finish your wine right now,” 

You tilted your head and in the most innocent voice you could respond, “And why is that Mr. Kiska?” Sitting back you smiled sweetly at him. It was at this moment that Jake registered you weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were peaking out of the lace at him, begging to be touched. 

“Because, if we're going to continue this conversation, I want to be in the privacy of my own home. Plus, I want to play with my new toy.” 

You were positive that your cheeks were painted red at the mere thought of him referring to you as a toy. Without hesitation, you gulped down your wine and smiled at him. “Good Girl,” Jake reached his hand out towards you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jake Kiszka wasn’t a man to waste his time with words, when his actions could do the talking.  The whole car ride back to his penthouse, he kept inching his hand further up your leg while driving. Which is kind of ironic to you because he sent you a driver but he preferred to drive himself. 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine talking or your subconscious, but you could feel the sexual tension. You could practically cut it with a knife. Unbeknownst to you, Jake was feeling the same way. 

Once arriving at his place, he dismissed you from following him into the kitchen and instructed you to “sit still and look pretty” on the couch. After five painfully long minutes he came back into the room with two glasses filled with an amber liquid. Offering you the glass, you winced as you smelled it. Jake chuckled, “Not a fan of Bourbon? This is Guadalupe. It’s good, take a sip.”

Jake then proceeded to raise the glass to your lips and tilt your head back. Opening up your lips, you realized that you were ready to swallow whatever this man would give you. Jake soon realized this was a mistake as you started coughing up a lung after taking a pull of amber down your throat. 

“You good over there?” Jake gave you a wicked grin. 

“Uh, yeah I’m okay. I'm just more of a wine drinker.” You replied shyly. 

 “Noted, I'll be more careful next time when I make you swallow something”. 

You were sure that your eyes were the size of golf balls. Acting like he casually just asked about the weather, Jake circled back to the conversation at the restaurant. “So anything else you want to ask me?” 

Taking another small sip of bourbon, you found the courage to speak again. “Why are you a sugar daddy?” Peaking over the glass at him, you noticed Jake furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just curious. You're Jake Kiszka. You could get any woman you want. I know women throw themselves at you all the time.”

Interrupting you, Jake sighed from his spot. “You’re right. I probably could have any woman I want. I always sucked at dating. Just never had the time to give to someone. To be honest, I frankly don’t have the time right now. I basically only have the time for a casual dinner and a quick fuck. A couple of my friends do this and suggested it to me. I have the funds to give to a pretty lady. So why not try it?”.

It was surprising that he even gave you the answer that he did. Jake didn’t seem like the type to open up to people even a little bit. 

“A quick fuck? That’s what I’m here for?” You stood up, you knew you were here for his money, but he didn’t have to talk to you like you were nothing. Like you weren’t a person. Fuck That. 

“Sit back down. You and I both know that you’re not going anywhere.” Swallowing your pride you took the spot next to him on the black leather couch. You hated that he was right. 

“Obviously it’s not going to be quick. I have stamina. Did you miss the part where I said casual dinner too?” Jake was chuckling. “I didn’t think I had to go into details. There is going to be communication between us. You will be taken care of y/n, as long as I’m taken care of. At any moment you can walk away from this. If you're uncomfortable we can just forget that this meeting ever happened. Anytime you feel uncomfortable, you tell me to stop and I will. No questions asked. Now, are you okay with this?” 

You shook your head yes. 

“Y/n, I need to hear it.”

 “Yes, I understand.” you breathed out, shakily.  

Jake beamed at you. “I’m assuming that this is the time where we talk about your payment? I was thinking of a weekly allowance of $1,500 to start, then if you’re a good girl for me we can up it. I’ll make sure to wire you the money on Monday.”

 You nodded along, “Jake, I'm grateful for this, don't get me wrong. But is there any way I can get an advance? $1,500 isn’t going to pay my past due rent.” You felt embarrassed even asking him this. He knew you needed money, but you didn’t want him to see you grovel for it. 

Jake then picked something up off the table. As he got closer to you, you recognized that it was a check. “I knew that you were going to bring up the rent situation, so I went ahead, called your apartment manager and wrote you a check for the next two months. I already paid your past two.”

 You were shocked to say the least. You couldn’t help it but your jaw dropped at the thought of how much money that is, even though it's probably spare change for him. 

“You must really want me to put something in your mouth, princess. All you have to do is ask.” Jesus. This man is going to be the death of you. 

“Anyway, I know we talked about the weekly allowances, but there’s some other things involved as well. Of course I have benefits, galas and public appearances to keep up, you will be attending them with me. No excuses, obviously with that comes all the shopping that you could want. I need you to be dressed to the nines when we go out. It comes with the territory. I’m sure you understand. Think this is something that you can do?”

 You nodded along with what he was saying. “Yes, Jake. I’m positive I’ll be able to handle all of this. Are you sure I’m the one that you want? Don’t you want to shop around a little and see what other options are out there?”. 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even suggesting the thought. “No, I’m sure that I want to do this with you. The minute I saw your picture, I knew I wanted you and wouldn’t stop until you agreed to this deal.”

This man was persistent, maybe it was a trait that he formed being a lawyer. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t get over the fact that he saw a picture of you before you locked eyes at the restaurant. 

“How did you get a picture of me?” You quizzed him as he finally took a seat next to you.

 “I have connections, don’t worry about it. '' He was looking deep into your eyes while licking his lips. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to the spot that he just wet.

 “You know, it’s okay to go after what you want y/n,” leaning into you. He was giving you the option to lean into the kiss or pull back.

 “I don’t know, I’m just a little nervous,” Jake seemed to smile at the small confession. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling. It’s human nature.” 

That right there sealed the deal, you closed the gap between you. Your lips melted together, it was like he was made for kissing you. Just as you were about to pull away to admire the man in front of you, you felt a hand making its way to the nape of your neck. It wasn’t aggressive, he was just holding you into place, giving you the option to stop if you wanted. Jake noticed that you weren’t pulling away. He took this as a sign to deepen the kiss, there was only one problem here. You were fighting him for dominance.

Jake broke the kiss and pulled you to straddle him. “Stop trying to take control.” 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he gave you a lustful look. With a simple nod of your head, you felt yourself losing control. He took your nod as reassurance to continue, and you watched as he moved closer. His hands grabbed your thighs as he lifted himself up towards your face, capturing your lips again. From your outer thigh, his hands began to travel upwards until you could feel the heat of his palms drag up your waist, then the small of your back. You melted with his touch, feeling yourself lean deeper into the kiss. Your skin tingled as he reached your breasts, protected only by the lace cups of the dress. You could feel your cheeks reddening as you followed his lead. Fuck, he just brushed against your nipple. You jolted at the sudden sensation, and he sensed you were feeling it. He swiped his thumb against the other one. While you were distracted, he moved his mouth lower, to the crook of your neck–kissing a trail all the way to your shoulder. His breath was hot on your skin and you moaned at even the slightest of touches. Was it the wine from dinner? The bourbon? Was it him and his obsession with being suave? Or was it the way he kept looking at you with lust filled eyes? 

“I like you best when you’re at my mercy,” he said before closing his mouth around the lace that covered your nipple. 

The first thing you felt was the heat, then the pressure–and finally, the pleasure. And you wanted more.  Instead, Jake lifted his head. You opened your eyes, suddenly realizing that they were closed all this time. You met his gaze, wanting to open your mouth, hoping he’d say something about filling it again. But you didn’t. Instead you wet your lips. 

“Show me why I should pay your rent,” he whispered in your ear, oozing with lust.

 “Wha-what do you mean?” you stuttered nervously.

 “I want you to show me why I’m spending my money on you. Show me I made the right choice to choose you out of all others.” As he was distracting you with his rugged voice, Jake was sneaking his hand underneath your dress to feel the puddle of warmth that was forming between your legs. “Damn, princess. All this for me?” he licked your ear and then blew on it. 

“Yes Jake, it’s all for you”.

 You felt a sharp stinging pain on your ass and when you went to lift up off his lap, he pulled you back down in a sharp motion. You could feel his cock struggling against his pants. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one enjoying myself,” finally, it was your moment to tease him. 

“I would enjoy myself more if you would take my cock out of my pants and show me how much you want it,” he growled out.

You could feel yourself looking down at him with hooded eyes. It was at this moment you knew that you were always going to be at his mercy. This man knew how to turn you into putty. 

Instead of giving into Jake, you decided to tease him a little bit more. Grinding down on him and reaching down to pull your dress over your head. You felt strong hands grabbing your wrists. 

“Nuh-uh, only I get to take off your clothes, you do as you're told.” 

You moved back and forth on him a little bit harder. Leaning forward, you whispered into his ear, “But I thought you wanted me to show you why you’re paying my rent.”

 Jake paused for a minute, before deciding to grab onto your waist and flip you around. He realized that having you on top made you feel like you were in charge - you never were going to be when he was around. 

“Is that back sass I hear? That won't get you far with me, darling.” He was staring you down like a hunter stalking his prey.

 “Darling? I thought my name was y/n?” You replied coyly.

 “Keep talking and I’ll have no choice but to punish you.” 

You involuntarily felt your pussy clench. Jake could feel it too, his cock was nestled right in between your folds with just a thin layer of lace separating the most intimate parts of yourselves. “Oh, it seems like you like that idea,” he smirked. 

You moaned in response, there was no way to keep you quiet. Just with Jake’s talk alone, you were ready to orgasm right then and there. 

“But I don’t want to fuck you yet, I want to see how badly you want me.” You're doing the best you can to keep your composure- well, what was left of it anyway.

 “I want you, I want you to fill me up, I want you inside of me,” You mumbled into his neck. 

“Princess, you really don’t listen do you? We’re going to have so much fun with all the lessons you need to learn. I said I’m not going to fuck you. Trust me I want nothing more than to feel this tight little pussy around my cock, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire. It was like Jake was just casually asking you what you wanted to eat, all of this just seemed to roll off his tongue. Before you could stop yourself you found the words slipping past your lips “Can I put your cock in my mouth?”. 

“You know that’s not how you ask for what you want.” he reapplied smugly. ”Beg for it.” 

“Ja-” A quick swat on your thigh stopped you. “Sir?” 

Jake shook his head, “You’re getting closer, but that's not what you should call me, princess.” 

You had one guess left in your mind. “Daddy?” 

Jake didn’t think it was possible for him to get harder, but hearing your sweet innocent voice and doe eyes peering up at him, he couldn’t hold himself together. “Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” 

“You want Daddy’s cock in your mouth?”  

Instead of answering him, you pushed on his shoulder, flipping both of you around and then pinning his shoulders to the couch. Jake didn’t fight you on this, he wanted your mouth on him just as much as you wanted him to fill your pussy. He wanted you to feel like you had a little control–for now–it gave you confidence. 

“Go ahead baby, take it out. Show Daddy how much you want his cock.” 

With shaky hands, you undid his belt and started to pull his boxers down. Jake could feel you starting to hesitate. He gently put his hands over yours and helped you pull down the fabric- freeing his cock. You couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of his cock going into your mouth and eventually your pussy.

 “Aw, is my princess speechless? Don't worry, it’ll fit in all the holes you want. Right now we’re just gonna focus on putting it in the back of your throat. Then we'll focus on it fitting in that sweet cunt of yours. I can just tell it's a ripe pink and I bet right now it's just aching for my touch. Isn’t it? You want me to rub on that sweet little clit to give you some relief?”

 You couldn’t hold back the little whine that escaped your throat. “You like the sound of that huh? Daddy touching you? Just wait until I put my tongue in your pussy. Oh baby, I can tell that you’re going to taste divine.” 

At this point you were melting into him, you started to move your hands in a twisting motion, hoping to bring Jake as much pleasure as he was giving you with these filthy little thoughts spilling out. 

 “Sorry, it’s not going to happen, it’s all about you putting my cock into that sweet little mouth of yours.” 

Jake didn’t give you any time to respond to that, he lifted up three fingers to your mouth, urging you to open up and let them in. You did as he asked and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, but Jake noticed something, you were so nervous that your mouth was dry.  Pushing you down onto your knees, looking at you with lust blown eyes he pulled your hair, forcing your head to tilt back.

 “Open your mouth now.”

 “Why?” 

Jake gave you a stern look. “Trust Me. Open. Now. “ 

Sitting in front of him, you watched in amusement as he took a sip of the amber liquid. Making eye contact with you one more time, he leaned forward and spit the liquid directly in your mouth. 

“Swallow.” 

Starting to gag a little on the taste, Jake chuckled. “Princess, that wasn’t even a lot to swallow, we’re really going to have to work on that, aren’t we?” After watching you swallow he grabbed your jaw, “Ready for more?” 

Nodding your head wasn’t going to work–Jake had you in a grip that wouldn’t allow you to move. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good Girl. Now open up for me again.” 

Per his request you opened it up again. “Wider princess. C’mon. My cock wont fit in that tiny little opening.” 

Fuck. You were drooling for him. Jake didn’t come this far with you to not have you put your mouth on his throbbing cock. 

“That’s my good girl. You’re listening to Daddy so good.” Jake looked like he was debating on doing something. After a moment of contemplating, you watched in fascination :as a solid string of spit left his mouth and fell on your tongue. He dipped his fingers back into your mouth and spread the fluid all around your mouth. 

“Don’t close your mouth yet, it’s not wet enough” He spit back into your mouth with a firm: “Don’t you dare swallow.” You didn’t want to disobey him, you wanted to do everything that he said, word for word.

 “Good Girl, keep your mouth open, we’re not done yet.” Jake then directed your head towards his cock.

 You caught a second glimpse at it and just had to admire it. It was long, thick and had the perfect pink tint. His mushroom tip leaking precum- begging to be tasted. Jake didn’t stop until his cock was right in front of your mouth, with a hand wrapped around his base, he gently eased it in. He kept going until he hit that little sweet spot in the back of your throat that makes you gag. Jake finally let out a groan as he felt you wrap your lips around him. 

The groan that Jake left out was unholy. It sent a shock all the way down to your core. Once your mouth got used to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, you slowly started to bob your head up and down. In need of a breather, you released Jake out of your mouth with a solid ‘pop’. After sitting back for a couple of seconds, you dropped a thick bead of spit on his head, while using your left hand in a twisting motion, staring at Jake’s face. You started at the base and worked your way to his tip, getting a good feel of every single little detail of his throbbing cock. From how thick it was, how you needed to use two hands, and last but not least, the way he would twitch when you touched the underside of his head right where a prominent vein is.  His mouth was opened in pure bliss while he was looking down his nose at you. God, you wished you could see Jake like this everyday. 

He had had enough of your admiration and was starting to yearn for the feeling of your mouth again. Jake ran his fingers through your hair again and yanked you upwards. Chest to chest; forehead to forehead. Feverishly, your neck was whipped to the side and you felt the presence of hot air hitting your ear. 

“I think that's enough princess. My cock is missing your mouth already. Show it how much you love it. I want you to suck me dry, I want to cum in the back of your throat and I’m not stopping until I do. Do you understand?”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you quickly nodded and tried to free your hair out of his grip. Jake didn’t budge. “Do you understand?” You nodded again.

Jake wasn’t taking that as a response. “I need a verbal answer princess, before we go any further”. Locking eyes with him you said, “Yes Daddy. I want to make you feel good.” 

With a quick groan, Jake let go of your hair and pushed you back down so your face was right at his cock. You wanted to be a good girl for Jake, hell, you wanted nothing more in life than to hear those filthy noises coming out of his mouth. Taking his cock into your hand again, you sunk your mouth onto him slowly. Taking him inch by inch. As much as Jake wanted you to go fast, you were going to take your time. You wanted to work his cock like your life depended on it, after all, it did. You were taking your time with him, as he was filling your throat back up, you kept swallowing around every inch. Once your plump lips reached the bottom of his cock, tears started to form in your eyes. Jake could sense that you wanted to move your mouth off of him again, so he put his hand on the nape of your neck holding you there. 

Looking up at Jake through your tears, you saw him smirking. “Oh, is my baby starting to gag on Daddy’s cock? You want to take it out for a second?” You moaned around him. The vibration from that alone had Jake ready to shoot his cum down the back of your throat, he just had to hold on for a little bit longer. 

“That's too bad princess. You’re going to keep my cock in your mouth for as long as I want. Here let me move your hair out of the way.” 

Doing as he said, Jake took the elastic band that he keeps around his middle finger and moved all your hair back. Jake wanted to enjoy the show, he wanted to see all of you, trying to take every inch of him. But those watering eyes were doing something to him, your eyes looked so clear and filled with lust. Grabbing the base of your ponytail, he decided to start moving your head up and down. The sound of you gurgling around his cock was deafening. While Jake was busy with not trying to blow his load prematurely, you successfully snuck your hand down into your underwear in search of some type of relief. 

You dove your fingers through your folds hoping to gather some moisture. When you finally gathered enough, you reached up to circle your clit a couple of times. Silly you for thinking that you could get away with doing this in front of Jake Kiszka. After the third swirl on your clit he noticed that your moans were starting to change octaves. He quickly opened his eyes and realized what you were doing. He snatched your hand out of your underwear in an instant. 

“I don’t think so princess, this is about me getting off tonight not you,” Jake growled out.

 You looked back up at Jake with tear glossed eyes. This only made Jake yearn for you even more. You pulled your hand gently out of his grip and cupped his balls lightly. With a slight movement of your fingers, you felt him start to twitch. “C’mon baby, just like that,” he sputtered out as he started to feel the pleasure really begin to take over his body. Moving your head wasn’t enough for Jake. 

Holding your head steady, he started bucking his hips off the couch. With every buck your nose was touching his pelvic bone; breathing in  the woodsy smell of this man deeply. The more you tried to move your head back the more force would be pushed onto the back of your head to keep you still. Jake could feel your throat start to tighten up and try to push him out. 

“Keep that throat relaxed for Daddy baby. He’s almost there.” 

The mixed noises of your gags and the praises that Jake kept slipping out were taking over the atmosphere. You could tell that he was close to his peak. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, the sweat was starting to roll off his torso and drip down to his pelvic area. Jake’s breath was becoming unsteady, every other moan kept getting hitched in the back of his throat. You went into overdrive at the mere thought of his release coming, with every thrust towards the back of your throat, you were sticking your tongue out in search for his balls when you reach the base. 

Jake finally felt the tip of your tongue grazing that soft spot on top of his balls. A deep guttural moan spilled out of him. “C’mon princess, just a little bit longer. Daddy’s gonna give you his special little treat.”

 As soon as those words fell from Jake's lips, you hollowed your cheeks as much as you could and put all your effort into just breathing in Jake. Placing your hands on both thighs, you let him take full control over your mouth. You could tell that Jake was ready to come any second, the tip of his cock kept swelling up in size. Jake was in a frenzy he couldn't stop. The thing that pushed him over the edge was you looking up at him one last time. He pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat, let out a loud groan and emptied his load down your throat. 

“Stay right there Princess. Don’t swallow yet. I’m going to take myself out of your mouth now, I want to see it in there.” 

Jake slowly slid his cock out of your mouth. Looking down at you to make sure that you were listening to him and not swallowing anything. He pulled you up to his height with a single hand around your throat. 

“Open up princess, let me see.” 

As you slowly opened your mouth, Jake slid two of his fingers in there and pulled them out. He was mesmerized looking at the cum threading through his fingers. 

“Look up at me” he jerked your head up with a hand under your chin. “Now you can swallow,” he closed your mouth with the force of two fingers pushing your jaw up. Jake beamed at you as he watched your throat move up and down, proving to him how much of a good girl you can be for him. 

Jake took your hand and led the way to his bedroom. He finally found his own little sugar baby, there was no way that he was going to let you get away that easy. 

“Hey Jake?” you spoke up. 

“You okay? What's up?” He turned around to face you.

 “Nothing, I just wanted to know if I could use the bathroom?” 

Jake gave a jerk of his head towards the door on the right, without speaking another word you headed in that direction. After opening the door, you startled yourself. Looking at the reflection in the mirror you couldn’t recognize yourself. Mascara was running down your cheeks, lips swollen and your hair looked crazy. Jake was kind enough to move it back from your face, but he seemed to pull out over half of it when he was holding you down to his pelvis area. Fuck, these knots are going to be a bitch to get out. Running your fingers through your hair, you peeked into the bedroom once again in search of Jake. With no luck you called out for him. He came out of his closet with a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt.

 “Here. Change into these, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.” Glancing from the clothes in his hands back up to his face you didn’t quite understand. 

“What are these for?” Jake looked a little bit taken back at your comment.

 “Like I said, change into them. There’s makeup wipes in the one drawer. You don’t have to stay here. You can stay in the guest room if you want. Once again, it’s late. Taylor will drive you home in the morning.” 

 At this point Jake was shoving the clothes into your hands, he didn’t give you any room to protest. Once you closed the door you slid down it and just kept thinking to yourself. 

What The Fuck Did I Just Get Myself Into.

#jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #sugardaddy #sugardaddyxjake #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka #gvf fanfiction

[oraclekleo]

[18+] Pick-A-Pile: Ultimate Future Spouse Tarot Reading (PART 1)

Hello, my dear followers and random visitors of this blog of mine! Some (LOOOONG) time ago I promised a detailed and wholesome Pick-A-Pile tarot reading on your Future Spouse. This has originated in the fact I have received so many pretty repetitive Future Spouse requests that instead of doing the same type of reading 20 times, I decided to turn it into a PAC reading. Sorry to everyone who requested the future spouse reading but I’m sure you can choose one of the piles. I have made 6 piles which is a bit too long for Tumblr so this PAC reading is going to come in two parts. Make sure to treat them as if they were one reading. Remember this is still a general reading. Take what resonates with you personally, the rest was probably not meant for you. I have included physical appearance traits. And again not all of the aspects will apply to your future spouse. Dismiss the ones that don’t sound like your type. In case you need any further clarification, don’t be shy to contact me through DM or inbox or my email. If you don’t reach out to me, I will consider all your future spouse requests completed.

Disclaimer:

All of my tarot readings have purely entertainment nature

Tarot isn’t an exact science, I can never ever guarantee any of what’s said in a reading

Tarot isn’t a law or dogma to follow. You have a free will to decide no matter what the cards say.

Never make life decisions based on tarot only.

This is a general reading, take what resonates.

PART 1: PILES 1 - 2 - 3

PART 2: PILES 4 - 5 - 6

PILE 01 - POSEIDON

Cards: 19. The Child (The Oracle of Roses), House Seven (Heavenly Bodies Astrology Oracle), The Goat and Willow (Woodland Wardens Oracle), Dragon, Hawk (The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Oracle), King of Cups, VII The Chariot, 6 of Wands, 4 of Cups (The Light Seer’s Tarot), 5 of Wands, 0 The Fool, XII The Hanged Man, 5 of Cups (Dark Wood Tarot)

Dear Pile 1, your future spouse is a person with integrity and very mature. It’s possible they are older than you but it’s not a rule here. The string of mirroring runs through the whole reading. Your future spouse is a person of great composure, they don’t lose their nerves easily and usually maintain calm in stressful situations. People are likely to look up to them and praise their wisdom and dignity.

Your future spouse knows that nothing comes for free in life, they know they will always reap what they have sown. They have the ability to see value in everything and to see beauty in everyone they meet. Your future spouse is a compassionate person but they don’t let the emotional outbreaks of others sweep them off their feet. They can navigate through the emotional waters like professional sea captains and they rarely slip into anger.

Pile 1, your future spouse has been through tough times. Some of you might relate to the fact that your future spouse is a widower / widow. They carry sadness within their heart and soul, some of them even from previous lifetimes. It has taught them to never lose hope, though. Despite all the hardships they have been through, they still have a life drive, they overcome obstacles and face challenges with courage.

When your future spouse is in a bad mood, they might have a tendency to exaggerate and suspect others. Be careful not to give them a reason to get jealous as they don’t forget easily and once they start suspecting you, you will have a hard time convincing them that nothing happened. Be honest with your spouse, even brutally honest as they have excellent intuition and will see through lies and deceive.

Your future spouse, Pile 1, is a deeply curious person and they are likely to be interested in ways of communication. If it’s not their job, they are likely to adopt a hobby that will allow them to express their thoughts in a sensitive way and reach an audience of adoring fans. They like to be admired for their achievements so don’t forget to compliment them meaningfully. Don’t try to tell them empty flatters, though. They want you to notice and appreciate what they truly did. They are likely to use their words in order to influence other people’s lives for the better. They are likely to be teachers, gurus, counsellors, and therapists. Their life purpose is to reveal other people’s greatness, help them to see the beauty within themselves, as your future spouse can see it at first sight.

Dear Pile 1, your future spouse is a mature and mentor-like person on the outside but deep in their heart, they are pure and even childishly naive sometimes. They believe all people have good in them. They might sometimes be tricked by malicious people but they never lose hope.

When it comes to your future spouse’s love life, they are probably not that experienced. They might only have one or two lovers before meeting you as their relationships tend to be serious and long term. They are more traditional when it comes to dating, they probably believe in old-fashioned courtship. Your future spouse is a gentleman (even if they are female or nonbinary). They are likely to treat you with kindness and utmost respect. While they are old-fashioned, they are not likely to stand for the traditional role stereotypes. You don’t have to worry they would leave cooking and dishes to you while they would sit on a couch motionless. They will treat you well but also put as much effort into your relationship as you do and they will respect your opinions and let you use your unique voice freely.

I mentioned your future spouse is not likely to have many partners before you. That doesn’t mean they are inexperienced when it comes to marital pleasures. Once again, they are more likely to prefer traditional ways, they are not much into extremes or experimenting and the missionary is likely to be their favourite position. Your future spouse might prefer to control the show in the bedroom, not exactly from the position of the dom but as I mentioned, they are gentlemen and they want to treat you and make you feel relaxed. In their eyes, you are the most beautiful creature in the world and they want to worship you as the goddess you are for them. If you have picked this pile, it’s unlikely you’re the type to take charge in bed and you will like your spouse’s proactive approach.

You and your spouse are likely to have a very balanced relationship. You might be very similar in nature, probably started as good friends and just step by step fell in love with each other. For other people you might even look like you mirror each other, you probably subconsciously reach hands to each other at the same moment, you finish each other’s sentences. You are one soul dwelling in two bodies.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

PILE 02 - VULCAN

Cards: Seahorse (Wild Mystic Oracle), Freedom (Sacred Destiny Oracle), Eagle, Key, Bag (Tea Leaf Fortune Cards), 8. Commitment (Urban Crow Oracle), 13. Child (Gilded Reverie Lenormand), 37. Descendant (Starcodes Astro Oracle), 4 of Pentacles, 3 of Swords, 9 of Wands (Crow Tarot), 10 of Cups, Knight of Wands, X The Wheel of Fortune (Edgar Allan Poe Tarot)

Dear Pile 2, your future spouse is truly a family person, a daddy, a mommy, the one born to build a family and what’s even more important, they actually truly wish to have a spouse and start a family with them. Your future spouse is reliable both personally and financially, they are likely to be hard workers but also smart workers with a vision. They might start working hard from 9 to 5 but they have ambitions, they are quick to learn and it’s very likely for them to climb the corporate ladder fast or to start a business of their own to make sure their family is well secured.

Dear Pile 2, your future spouse is probably someone who has a big family already or if it’s not a family by blood, they are very close with their friends. If they don’t already have children from a previous marriage when you meet them, they are probably the fun uncle for their nephews, nieces and their friends’ children. They have a fantastic relationship with children in general.

I have mentioned previous marriages and it’s actually pretty possible, your future spouse is a person who went through divorce. The 3 of Swords speak of heartbreak, while the 9 of Wands suggest perseverance. Your future spouse is likely a person who doesn’t really hold grudges. Their divorce might have meant an end to a chapter of their life but it’s possible they maintain a decent and polite relationship with their ex spouse simply to make the whole thing easier for their children. Dear Pile 2, if you have picked these cards, you are probably a person, who will accept and welcome your future spouse’s children from their previous marriages. If this is not your case, pick a different pile.

Dear Pile 2, your future spouse is not a fan of extreme sports or any other kind of hazardous hobby. They are more on the timid side. They might enjoy doing DIY’s, gardening, casual cycling, nature (especially bird watching, I’m getting that strongly). I can sense a certain neatness in your future spouse so it’s very likely they will be willing to help with house chores, maybe even be better in them than you are. They might be good cooks as well. They are truly more of homely types to enjoy the peace and comfort with you and your family.

All these might make you think they are a bit boring when it comes to romance and sex but that’s not the case here. Dear Pile 2, your future spouse is actually a very passionate lover and while they might not be into super kinky practices, they do have a certain curiosity in them and will be willing to explore some of the more pleasurable positions or techniques you might suggest to them. I mentioned they have a thing for nature and it’s possible your future spouse is keen to get down to business outdoors. Camping with them is likely to be fun. Your future spouse has a certain playfulness in them, they might not always let others know always but they do like to tease you. They are no beast but more like a playful kitten. I also see gentleness in them and an open mind. They have no problem being submissive now and then. If you prefer them in a dominant position, they are the soft and caring type of dom.

Dear Pile 2, your future spouse and you seem to have a truly good chemistry. You can see the seahorses how they are in love. Seahorse male is also the one being pregnant which suggests your future spouse is capable of understanding you and stepping into your shoes when you ask them. If you are the housewife but suddenly have to travel away, you don’t have to worry because your spouse is perfectly capable of managing your responsibilities. They are not the type to say they were babysitting. It’s not babysitting when it’s your child, right? Your future spouse knows your children’s schedules and needs and they are capable of taking care of anything. It gives you a fantastic feeling of security with them. The cards are mostly positive and it’s pretty possible you would rarely ever argue.

As I mentioned before, your future spouse is a family person and it’s very likely they will seek a job with good work-life balance. It’s very important for them to feel purpose at work, to be needed and on the other hand, to be adequately rewarded for their hard work. They might try several jobs but if they can’t find a good balance as an employee, they are likely to set their own business up.

In general, your future spouse is likely to always pursue the happiness of their family and they are willing to do anything for it. They are loving, caring and responsible.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

PILE 03 - HERMES

Cards: Clover (The Seed & Sickle Oracle), XX The Caiman and Poppy (Woodland Wardens Oracle), LXVII Sublimation (The Wild Unknown Alchemy Oracle), 48. Risks (Oracle of Visions), Growth (Prism Oracle), Pioneer (Archetype Cards), 8 of Cups, 5 of Pentacles, 0 The Fool (Tarot in Wonderland), VIII Strength, 5 of Wands, IX The Hermit (Tarot of the Divine)

Dear Pile 3, your future spouse is a dreamer and idealist. They are always on some sort of a quest - to learn something new, to master a new skill, to help someone, to fight the big evil corporate company, to save the world, you name it. They can’t just sit back, relax and ignore when there’s something wrong or evil going on. They are the hero type of a person. On the other hand, they don’t really have a master plan on how to win the fight and how to achieve their goals. They have passion, curiosity and good will, they go into endeavours head on, they jump into the unknown without thinking about consequences. And that might be challenging for the people around them, specifically you, my dear pile 3. While their intentions are all good, your future spouse might walk around with their head in the clouds, always occupied with some noble mission of theirs, forgetting about all the everyday life details.

Dear Pile 3, your future spouse is likely a person with high values and always trying to become the best version of themselves. Sometimes they rise so above ordinary life, they might lose contact with reality, though. They might become detached from you, family, friends, your community. On the other hand, when like Icarus they fly too close to the sun and fall back down, they will seek help. The only trouble is that people might not be so willing to help someone who left them behind before. You might need to keep your future spouse’s feet on the ground so they don’t cut ties with reality. Their vision and intentions might be excellent ones, they only need the reality check.

As mentioned, your future spouse is a person with goals to achieve and it’s very likely most of their hobbies and interests are ones that will help them on their way. They might not really have a hobby purely for fun, all their leisure activities are actually small steps towards their big goals. They have a very curious mind and it’s likely for them to remain a student for life, constantly reading and learning. That’s something they find pleasure in.

Speaking of pleasures, your future spouse, pile 3, is a person of contradictions. While they seem rather soft, gentle and compassionate when it comes to their noble quests, they truly turn into the beast in sheets. The caiman looks as if in trans most of the time but it becomes fast and furious once it’s after a prey. Your future spouse is similar in that matter. They might seem so deep in thoughts, so well composed while sitting by their desk and the next minute they wipe all things down the desk and have you seated there, ripping the clothes off. I also get a sense of them being well equipped in case your future spouse is a male. They probably aren’t overly romantic in a traditional way. They might be too occupied with all the suffering in the world to remember your wedding anniversary. On the other hand, if you manage to remind them in time, they will come with gifts to you, they probably prefer giving jewellery or perfumes.

I can see a lot of pushing and pulling in your cards so it’s possible your marriage isn’t exactly one made in heaven. You probably will fight and argue. Your future spouse might struggle to compromise, they probably believe they are always right. That’s something that might cause tension. They want to win any argument and they might not always think about possible consequences. Your future spouse is a tricky person to deal with but on the other hand I can see that a more gentle and even cunning approach might be successful for you. If you manage to make your future spouse think that your ideas are theirs, you will live a happy life.

Dear Pile 3, your future spouse might struggle with their career. I mentioned it multiple times, they are idealistic and whenever they feel their employer is being unfair or immoral or whatever issues your future spouse might have with them, they will fight the management or just straight up leave. It might lead to financial struggles as once again your future spouse can’t compromise their values, they can’t overlook any wrongdoings. It might take them a while to find a way to make the world a better place and still be able to pay the bills.

In general, your future spouse is simply too good for this world and you are the one balancing the scales and making sure the mundane issues will get as much attention as the global problems.

Physical Appearance

(Take only the ones that resonates, this is a general reading, if there are features you are not particularly interested in, they weren’t meant for you)

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

See the rest of the piles in PART 2 of this reading.

Please, remember that this tarot reading is purely for fun. Thank you.

Let me know what pile you picked 😊

Consider supporting me on KO-FI

#pick a pile reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #pac #pac tarot #tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #free tarot readings #free tarot #love tarot #love tarot free #love tarot reading #future spouse #tarot future spouse #oracle kleo

[jordynbreeloa777]

Void Obsession & Hate?

Ok.. wow. This community sometimes really just puts the icing on the cake because.. (⚠️‼️WARNING LONG POST AHEAD‼️⚠️ )

First off, I don’t know who started spreading around that the void is the only way to manifest instantly.. because that is NO WHERE NEAR TRUE. I really think some of you guys keep putting the void on such a huge imaginary pedestal as if it’s more powerful than you. If you ASSUME that then it will. But why put unnecessary limits on yourself and your manifestation abilities. Like first off the void is JUST A METHOD. NOTHING MORE THEN THAT, NOT SOME MAGICAL PLACE WHERE THE VOID “GRANTS YOUR WISHES” AND THAT YOU “RECEIVED YOURS DESIRES FROM THE VOID” No, and it’s getting reall weird when I hear people saying this. Even in your void success stories stop seeing it from a view as if it’s outside or you.. please. Now I understand the “hate” that many of these bloggers have for the void. So please, know about the LAW, and LOA as well as work on your SC instead of just relying solely on the void. If you want to enter the void as a way to manifest go right ahead. But stop putting it on a gold pedestal. Just know regardless of if you want to manifest using the void or not, know that you can manifest just as fast and quickly as it, as well as it’s not outside of you so of course you can enter it when you want to. There is sooo many others methods so you shouldn’t only be seeing the void as “once I get results in the 3Di will finally be fulfilled.” Like first off this is what I mean because you shouldn’t be thinking this or even entertaining this. You shouldn’t be feeling “stressed out or, once I finally enter the void I will be done with my journey.” Noo, embody the person who always easily enters the void because your the one in control with all the power. Stop letting the 3D just boss you around.. aren’t you tired? Fed up? Want change? How much longer are you just going to keep relying on the void..? Like there is so many techniques such as SATS, Lullaby, robotic affirming, askfirmations,subliminals, and states, like the list goes on. Don’t only rely on the void if it’s not serving you. You shouldn’t be feeling stressed or worn out, remember manifesting is suppose to be fun! If that method is not serving you right now, or none are, then just use states. Be the person who already has your desires! Make a list of every single thing you want. It can be 2,000 or 1 million things I don’t care. Be the person who manifest easily and quickly, you always manifest instantly! Stop overthinking, or over complicating the law! You shouldn’t be complaining, do you not know how lucky you are that people believe that have to work for what they want, work hard, they believe they are ugly and can’t change, believe money doesn’t grow on trees, believe to lose weight they have to work out and do a workout plan for 10 months straight, believe they have to diet, believe winning the lottery only happens once in a lifetime, believes love is hard to find, ECT, ECT, ECT. You guys the list goes on. You found the golden key, the law is sitting dead right smack in your face on a golden platter, YOU FOUND YOUR WAY OUT, you no longer have to be a victim to your own reality, you no longer have to have shitty circumstances that you don’t want to live in. This is YOUR wake up call. YOU CREATE, YOU CONTROL. TAKE YOUR POWER BACK AND STOP GOING BACK TO THE OLD YOU, THE OLD STORY. You know how to manifest so stop asking questions, scrolling for answers, 3D validation to validate your assumptions, and proof or evidence. Your the evidence, the yes, the blueprint, the one who decides and chooses. Happy Manifesting!💝💝

#law of assumption #manifesting #loassumption #manifesation #neville goddard #loa tumblr #affirm and persist #robotic affirming #the void state #askfirmations #void method #void post #i am state #wish fulfilled #old story #new story #master manifestor #manifest your dreams #manifesting is easy #manifesting 🕯️🕯️🕯️ #the world is your oyster #time is an illusion #time doesn't exist #i get what i want #i want it i got it #i deserve it #you choose #you decide #you deserve the world #keep the faith

[mwapollo]

the ‘otherside’ disc theory, or watchers’ music

@bc-jpeg​ and I developed a theory around the minecraft ‘otherside’ disc by Lena Raine lately. it stems from two original theories by Coanderson05 and B2_Code_B2 that Cat found on Reddit, but it interprets in-game facts in a different direction.

so, what about the disc? and watchers? what it has to do with XP spheres? and above all that -- why is it special for Grian and Mumbo?

origins of the melody

all songs are stories. what is this story about?

the initial authors connect ‘otherside’ to the End dimention, as the disc can only be found in strongholds. from their perspecive, the melody is about the end itself and creatures that live there and is composed by these creatures, with all the ‘portal strangeness’ that we can hear. but it doesn’t quite work: this melody is too cheerful and is based on the human music laws, harmonies and rythms, though I cannot deny the ‘otherness’ in its sounds. futhermore, I doubt that endermen are capable of playing musical instuments, so it’s definetely not their creation.

our theory suggests that the melody was composed on earth a long time ago. it were players who created it -- they were just having fun, altering the world around them and developing their culture. in their music there was nothing but pure happines, love and passion to the act of creation.

someone was watching them.

the watchers, ancient creatures that have been present since the beggining of history, were spectating this beautiful act. they did not know about the difference between consuming people’s positive or negatve emotions at the time -- they were merely entertaining themselves with the cheerfulness of those players. at some point, they decided to take this cultural experience with them to their dimention -- so they had to learn how to perform it. this is where ‘strangeness’ and ‘otherness’ that intertwine with the melody that seems quite usual to the human’s hearing from: the recorded music was played by watchers in the End dimention or near End portal.

this is why ‘otherside’ in its meaning is not the End. the ‘otherside’ is our world, that is the opposite reality for watchers.

the ‘otherside’ is where they heard the tune;

the ‘otherside’ is what they loved.

the XP meaning

the XP, experience, is all around the minecraft nature. it represents history since the creation of the world. it is history of ground and mountains (XP from ores), life and death (XP from players or hostile mobs), history of ‘then’ and ‘now’ (XP from smelting in furnaces and other processes), history of everything. for player XP is lifetime, XP is skills, XP is, at last, culture. you gain XP from the world and its legacy, and you put your knowelege into making your own: enchanting armor, tools and weapons, reparing them, naming things as you claim them yours. XP serves for putting life into inanimate. in this theory, the ‘otherside’ disc contains the players’ XP from a long time ago. those players who composed the song had nothing in their experience but pleasure and happines, friendship and love, they were sharing those feelings as watchers were comsuming them, and that experience was put into this disc. the ‘otherside’ have some magic into it not only from the way it sounds but also from the method it was created with -- it is the XP of the happiest generations of players existed. the ‘happily ever after’ ones. but then, watchers discovered how delicious negative emotions are.

Grian and Mumbo

this disc is one of the essential melodies for the duo. not only does it sound numerous times in Grian’s videos where Mumbo is mentioned (take, for example, his escape room for Impulse and Jimmy), but also it is the, as I would say, anthem of their reunion. it is the song that is playing during their first meeting after Mumbo’s hiatus in Season 9 while XP is pouring all over them from dispencers Grian put into the Vault. it is the moment of pure happiness and joy. it is the same feelings that are originally embodied into the disc by watchers.  the same feelings that Grian had lost long ago, when Mumbo was gone.

the same feelings that he fears his friends would not be able to experience until they’re free from the watchers’ timeloop. ‘otherside’ containes the feelings of people who never met watchers, who never knew they ever existed, who lived in freedom while being curiosly observed by good and kind creatures from the end. Mumbo lives in the same world, but it is an illusion because watchers don’t allow him or anybody else to see them. the only person who knows it is Grian. he is torn apart between his wahcter-like nature and kind and pure soul that wishes nothing but happiness for his friends. he does all that he is capable of -- he spoils the feast for watchers every time he has the oppotrunity, even if it has its painful consequances. and on the hermitcraft server -- in their collective dream, where souls are free from pain and suffering -- he cannot do more for Mumbo but give him XP -- history of the ancient world, history of ‘happily ever after’-- and play the ‘otherside’ disc, the artifact of the past and enbodiment of his sincere, secret dream... for them to be happy and free.

#eyesandears #minecraft #mcyt #mcyt fandom #hermitcraft #life series #traffic life smp #traffic life series #grian #the watchers #watcher grian #mumbo jumbo #mwapollo