#i actually wouldn't mind if i didn't have to color it...on paper

[raveartts]

You'd think as an artist I'd jump at homework that involves drawing...but I really don't

#rave ramblees #i actually wouldn't mind if i didn't have to color it...on paper #and i have to draw flowers without having flowers to reference #well the drawing doesn't need to be GOOD it just has to show my idea #but then i need to be able to ESTIMATE how many flowers i need exactly #and ummmmmmmmm i can't estimate for the life of me #i either need 5 roses or 40 there's no in between here #my concept of numbers is extremely garbage

[muddyorbsblr]

onyx pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Thor's return to the Compound reveals that your new pet kitten wasn't quite what you thought he was

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language (it's like 2 cuss words but i'm still not sorry, Rogers); the lightest sprinkle of angst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: himbo Thor hours

You couldn't believe what you were hearing from Thor. Implying that the sweet tiny kitten on your shoulder was actually the god that wouldn't even spare you a single glance sideways. The one that barely even registered that you existed.

"Thor no. It can't be. This little bub is small and baking biscuits on my cheek. He purrs. He's cat-shaped. Onyx is a cat. He's my cat. And right now you're scaring him being all up in his face like this. I say this with so much love…Thunder? Back the fuck off." Your kitten shivered even harder as he snuggled into your neck, keeping his little face buried in your hair.

"Lady Y/N, I know my brother's eyes anywhere. Especially after he disguised himself as a snake when we were merely eight years old and--"

"Changed back and stabbed you. Bleh it's me. I know the story, Thunder," you finished for him, suddenly exceedingly aware of the weight of maybe-Onyx-maybe-Loki on your shoulder despite the tiny feline frame. "But I'm telling you there's just no way that my cat is--"

You looked into Onyx's eyes and immediately your shoulders dropped, realizing that it wasn't a coincidence that his eyes were a familiar shade of blue. Thor was right; he knew his brother's eyes anywhere. The kitten embraced your face, pressing his nose to your cheek repeatedly.

"Onyx, look at me." He stilled against your cheek, his wide pleading eyes looking into yours with something that looked akin to resignation. "You were hissing at FRIDAY and Shaun about getting chipped because you understood everything we were saying. Am I right?" He didn't move, the pupils in his eyes growing wider and the corners of his eyes starting to fill with tears. "Because you're Loki?"

He took a deep breath, this little chest puffing up with air and suddenly looking significantly less cat-like than he did a minute ago. Onyx -- actually, Loki -- pressed his face to your cheek again, the action now making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Then finally he nodded,  and the air left your lungs.

You walked over to  your apartment, Thor's heavy footsteps following just behind you, and placed Onyx/Loki on your desk in front of a notepad and a pen. "Talk." He looked up at you again with those wide pleading eyes. "Please," you added, unsure of what to feel now that the last few hours you spent with your newfound pet was being colored with the context of who he actually was.

Too many thoughts, too many questions, floated around your head, nearly overwhelming you, as your last round of pain meds began to wear off and the discomfort you were feeling gradually became a throbbing pulsating sensation throughout your left side.

Most of them revolving around why he acted the way that he did in this tiny form with you, and how long this could have gone on if Thor hadn't revealed his identity within ten seconds of seeing him. The blond god pulled out a chair for you to read along as Loki's green magic surrounded the pen and words began to form on the paper.

I made a misstep while practicing my magic and cast a spell that turned me into this diminutive feline form. I had exited my quarters earlier today to find assistance in retrieving the spell I require to reverse its effects.

"Hold on." The pen stopped mid-stroke, the cat looking at you with your hand held up. "If you can make things move with your mind, why couldn't you just get the spell book--"

"Grimoire," Thor corrected you. "He gets a bit testy when you use the other word."

"Right then, why couldn't you just move the grimoire down and reverse the spell on your own?" The pen lifted again, you and his brother crowding around the paper to read his answer.

When I scale down my form to something so vulnerable, my magic is not as potent. In theory the grimoire is only just at the limit of my powers' reach in this form and I run the risk of crushing myself with the tome.

"Loki, are you telling me you need help reaching the top shelf?" Thor chortled at the question, sounding like he was struggling to keep his chuckles at bay. "Can it, Thunder, it's not that funny." The cat nodded at you, starting to stand on his back legs again. "Okay, so why not ask your brother? He's way taller than me."

"Oh that I can answer for him, Lady Y/N," he quipped, raising his own hand up in the air. "My brother doesn't trust me around his possessions. Something about how I have a tendency to break his things."

"You know what, that tracks," you muttered, standing and presenting the kitten your hand. "Come on then, let's get you back to normal." He hopped onto your hand and you were about to put him on your shoulder before you stopped, keeping him perched on your hands instead. He meowed at you, starting to climb up your arm before you picked him up again, keeping him in your hands.

"Think my brother wants to be on your shoulder, Lady Y/N. Seemed quite comfortable there," Thor spoke up, letting out a soft chuckle when the kitten started nodding enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "Perhaps you should--"

"I let him stay there earlier because he was my cat," you shot back. "Now he's your brother, it's not the same thing." He whimpered, his little cat body shaking in your hands, taking every ounce of strength you could spare not to give in and just place him back there. He kneaded at your palms the entire way to his apartment, Thor carrying around your stepping stool.

You all got to Loki's study, setting him down on the desk as he guided you to the grimoire he needed, shaking his head at each tome on the shelf that you'd pointed at so far.

"My word, Brother, your attention to detail in these sketches is remarkable, you even got--" Loki hissed at his brother, who was currently standing by a stack of journals, a small sketchbook in his hand. "Alright alright I desist. I shall take my leave. You shall be the one to divulge this information once you are yourself again."

The blond Asgardian's heavy footsteps sounded throughout the apartment until he left, then a few moments afterward you faintly heard his booming voice as he rejoined the rest of the team. You pointed at another grimoire that finally had him nodding his little head, stepping aside on the desk to make room for you to set it down.

"Okay then," you spoke up once you stepped back down to the ground, suddenly feeling more awkward as you stood alone with him in his apartment. "I'll uhh…I'll leave you to it."

You made it to the door of his study before you heard his tiny meow again, seeing him standing on his back legs at the edge of his desk, grabby hands outstretched towards you.

"I'll see you when you're…you again. Later, Loki." The sound of his little meows tugged at your heartstrings, nearly making you turn around and…honestly you didn't even know why he'd want you there with him but you'd stay if only to wipe the sad look from his face. You couldn't deny the adorable little cat much anyways in the hours he was yours.

Then again, you probably couldn't deny him anything in his Asgardian form, either.

An hour after you walked out of Loki's apartment you were hobbling your way back to yours, having eaten enough to take your next round of medications and toting a compound that Banner whipped up in his lab that could maybe help your injuries heal a touch faster. You had half a mind to just cut the sweatshirt off of you once you got inside to avoid the lingering discomfort, but ultimately decided against it.

That wasn't a good enough reason to let a perfectly good forest green sweatshirt go to waste.

You were about to start using the compound on your ribs first when a voice stopped you. "Darling…"

That voice. You recognized that voice anywhere. Giving you butterflies whenever you heard it in mission briefings. Haunting your vivid fantasies regardless of the time or appropriateness. The voice that had you incapable of forming words on any other day.

"Good to see you back," you said, trying to keep your composure around the god.

You reached for your sweatshirt again to cover yourself from his piercing stormy gaze, but before you could, he stood before you, his hand gently grasping your arm while the other rested on your waist. "I received a message from my brother while I was in my feline form, asking if I could check on your injuries. Aid in your healing somehow, if I feel inclined. His words, not mine." Your breath hitched when his thumbs stroked at your skin more tenderly than any of your former lovers had ever touched you. "I would have done it regardless."

Your pulse was thumping in your ears from his proximity, from the way he held your gaze. From the way he held you like he was fighting every urge to pull you to him. Like he would let you step out of it if that was what you wanted.

But all you wanted at the moment was to ask him, "Why didn't you tell me who you were the second you saw me in the pantry?"

The journal Thor was holding earlier materialized on your desk, diverting your attention to the open page. Probably the page that he was commending earlier that made the raven-haired god hiss at him in cat form. The image on the page had the air leave your lungs.

It was a sketch of you.

"My refusal to look at you before was not from disdain, little mortal," he spoke, taking a step closer to you, his hand traveling up your arm and framing your face. You could feel his breath on  your skin. "It was because every time I would look upon your features, I had to fight back every compulsion to do this."

He tucked his finger under your chin, turning you to face him before pressing a tender kiss to your lips that had you weakening in his hold, your stomach violently fluttering as his lips moved against yours. You whimpered against his lips, making him pull you into his arms, weaving his fingers into your hair.

"I've longed for you, precious mortal," he whispered once he pulled away, pressing kisses along the side of your face while you caught your breath. "To know the taste of your lips on mine. The feel of your supple body pressed against me." He kissed you again, lifting you off your feet and carrying you deeper into your apartment. Into your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed, briefly licking into your mouth before pulling away, making light wash over the room with a wave of his hand. "May I heal you, darling?"

Words failed you at the sight of him hovering over you, eyes wide and pleading as he looked on at the bruises and cuts that colored the left side of your torso. You wordlessly nodded your head to grant him the permission he needed to go forward, giving you a soft smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to your bruises.

"Much better," he breathed out, nipping at your skin before moving his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, lips traveling down to your thigh and kissing you over the fabric. "Once I have seen to your injuries, you should know that I have every intention to make you mine." He kissed you just below your belly button, humming against your skin as you squirmed underneath him, deft hands working the tight fabric down your legs. "If you wish to be, that is."

"I do," you gasped out, ceasing to give a flying fuck how desperate and wanton you sounded at the moment. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."

He smiled against your skin, kissing away at the injuries you sustained on your left leg before making his way back up your body. "You've no idea how delighted I am to hear those words from you, my darling." You felt what remained of your clothing melting away along with his, your moan when skin met skin muffled by him slanting his mouth over yours.

You woke up the next morning to the feel of Loki's nose brushing against yours, pressing kisses along your face until you let out a soft giggle from his attentions. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Your response had him running his fingers along your sides, turning you into a squirming giggling mess as you tried to wrestle your way out of his hold. "Good morning, Onyx."

A/N: I heavily debated w/ myself if I was gonna put smut in this but ultimately decided not to because it's a fluff story and I wanted it to stay a full fluff story 🥴 Just know that he did, in fact, give her plenty a mango ride 😏😏

This is probs the last story I'll post for 2023, so I'm gonna wish you all a Happy New Year and here's to the whorish insanity we'll all get up to in 2024. I have a whole lot planned out, starting with more horny bitches cuts and…a certain celebration I've been putting off because I'm drowning in a sea of WIPs 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

[red-viewe]

general lilia x reader thoughts 🔫 (part two✌)

COLORED TEXT IS FAE LANGUAGE (tw: metions of bl99d, swearing)

Part 1 part 3

---

'Fuck my life.'

Here's the tea. You found a half-dead but sexy asf fae on your sidewalk and decided, 'Hey! Let's bring him in, warp him up and fall asleep!' Which was a stupid decision, because now, you're leaning against Mr. Hot Guy's head, pretending to be asleep, because right now, THE FAE GUY IS AWAKE AND HE MIGHT KILL YOU.

After about 5 minutes of awkward silence, this happened.

"I know you're awake."

He said, as he slowly started to get up from the couch. "W-wow, i didn't think you would notice..." God, get yourself together, dude.

"Where am I?" He says, turning to the very sweaty(?) you. God, this man is so hot.

"You're in my house...in the woods, a-and you shouldn't stand up right now, you're still injured.

" You abruptly stand and gently push him down back on to the couch.

"I'm Y/n L/n, by the way... " Mr. Fae still seemed to be om guard.

"Why did you save me? Don't you know about the war going on right now?" He asks in a stern tone (which was kind of hot...).

"Well, war is stupid when you can literally solve everything without death." You say as you walked away into the kitchen.

"...Is that so.." He mumbled.

---

It toke time for the fae to tell you his name, you respected that. You wouldn't tell a stranger your name either. (Expect you did, but we ignore that) Afte a while, he finally said to juat call him Liliy. Being shot in the stomach with an iron arrow, it toke Liliy time to be able to actually move, but it was progress.

Your days suddenly became more interesting, as you spent more time with him, learning more and more about him.

Like how he's insanely good at games, even when he doesn't try, or when he sometimes helps you prepare for the day before you open the bar.

---

"I'm not playing with you anymore." You cry in a joking tone as you lose yet again another game of chess.

"Pft, if you'd like, perhaps you'd desire an easier game? May i suggest rock paper sissors?" Liliy says with mischievous smirk on his face.

"Oh, screw you."

'Is this man trying to poison me?' Was the first thought you had when you opened the lunch Liliy attempted to make for you.

"It can't be that bad..." You say out loud, slightly gagging when you scooped up some of the meal(?) onto your spoon.

---

And...sweet moments, which made your heart beat a little faster and your cheeks warm up.

---

"Sleeping late, beastie?" Liliy said, as he toke some of your hair into his hands and started combing playing with it, making you blush when you felt his breath a little too close.

"Mhm, I'm doing some stinky taxes before i go to bed." You said, writing down information. After a while of liliy playing with your hair, you started to feel drowsy and fell asleep, waking up the next day on your bed, with a half asleep liliy next to you, staring at you with half closed eye lids and a blush on his face.

'How are you so freaking fine?'

---

You honestly did not know when you and the fae started getting so comfortable with each other, but are grateful for your friendship with Liliy.

---

The some of the buildings were set ablaze, others half torn apart, and human bounty hunters were tearing the town apart looking for Lilia Vanrouge. Rumours of the infamous general seeking refuge with someone spread far and wide, wide enough to reach the ears of the royal family. The bounty on his head was more than 9 million thaumarks, and bounty hunters were eager to find the fae.

'Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck' You screamed on your mind as you swiftly ran back to your home in the woods, running from the danger.

"LIliy!" You burst into your home, praying that your fae would still be there.

"Y/n." Liliy was dressed in the armour you found him in, with his gargoyle mask on this head, carrying his weapon. "I have something to tell you, beastie."

"That you're Lilia Vanrouge, I know." You're not stupid. You saw the bounty posters. Bro.

"Are you leaving..?" You silently said, eyes meeting his.

Lilia stepped closer, his voice now low and soft.

"I have to. If I don't I- You- my queen needs me, and it's too dangerous for me t-" You hug him, eyes watering. Lilia's arms gently embrace you, and he kisses your forehead. "I swear I'll be back, my love"

Tears fall down your face, as he slowly releases you and leaves, turning back for one last glance of you.

'Please come back'

--

Authors note

This one was a bit sad😭 maybe if i finish part 3 i can make some side stories with crack and stuff 😭🙏Would you like that ?🤔

(Also just comment if you want to be tagged if theres a next one)

(Tag list: @anonima-2)

#twisted wonderland #twst x you #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia x you #lilia vanrouge x reader smut #lilia vanrouge x mc #lilia vanrouge x you #red-viewe

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hello there! 👋🏽 If you don’t mind, I was wondering if I could make a request with Tech? With maybe a bookworm reader if that’s okay? I feel like it would be a cute dynamic! Thank you and have a good day! 🙏🙌

Bookworm

Tech x Reader

Summary- You and Tech have a moment alone on The Marauder. What better way to spend it than reading! Accompanied by Tech on his datapad, of course.

A/N- It's totally okay!!! I figured the best format for this kind of request was bullet point- but I am not very good at those. So, i compromised with this! Hope you enjoy, thanks for requesting!

Word Count- 990

Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, and Echo had all left the ship to go look for some dinner. A job you all completed recently left you with some spending money. You figured everyone deserved a real meal for once.

It left you and Tech alone in The Marauder. You could have easily went to hang out at Cid's bar, but you couldn't stand to be around her. You hated the way she poked fun at Tech's goggles.

Only you were allowed to call him 'goggles.'

The thought only temporarily distracted you from your book. You quickly resumed reading, only to realize you had to restart the whole page. This time actually process what you're reading! You thought to yourself.

Grumbling, you squeezed your eyes shut and straightened up in your seat. You happened to take a spot in the co-pilots chair. Tech always sat in the pilots.

"Something the matter?" Tech asks, not looking up from his datapad.

It was sweet, that he noticed your small movements. "Just trying to focus, I lost my place." You finally found a comfortable position, situating your book back in your hands.

"It can help to fidget with one hand, to increase your chances of focus." He informed, per usual.

You smiled up at him, he glanced up from the pad when he felt your gaze on him. He flashed a very brief smile- more of a grin, it was all you needed though.

You listened to him rant about his findings on 'focus' for a few minutes, knowing anyone else would have shut him up by now. Him talking never bored you or made you uncomfortable, despite many others complaining.

"Thank you, Tech." You simply said, returning to your book. He seemed pleased enough and went back to tinkering on his datapad.

A newfound silence came over, you read your book in peace. The story of the thieves with powers fighting the government amused you. What amused you more was the fact you had personally been on more dangerous missions, yet the book still captured you.

It was nice to imagine yourself in their place, even when you wouldn't change what you have for the word.

You'd go on a million death defying missions if it meant you were with Tech.

While you typically could put down over 50 pages in an hour, Tech interrupted you again. Not with any other intentions than to please you.

"Yes?" You responded after he called your name.

He reached in a compartment to the left of the console. A place Tech used to store his latest experiments.

He pulled out a neatly wrapped gift. It had swirls of color on the paper that wrapped it. He said nothing, just handed the rectangular item to you.

"For me?"

"That would be correct."

You tried to fight the corners of your mouth rising, but it was no use. Tech watched you violently, showing little expression.

You gently took the paper off, not wanting to make a mess of his careful work.

You slowly revealed it to be a new book, the fourth book in the series to the one you were just reading.

"Tech, I- I thought it was a limited edition! There was only a hundred made across the galaxy!" You looked in his deep brown eyes.

"Yes, it is." He confirmed.

"H-how did you get it!" You were baffled, the thought he put into your gift- and for no special occasion.

"It was not difficult. I was able to track all the shipping numbers to their respective planets, and when we had a mission on one- I located the book through its buyers." He said, nonchalantly. Like he didn't easily buy one of the most rare books you knew of.

"Why? Did I miss an anniversary?" You were slightly confused on why he gave you the gift. You hoped you weren't supposed to also have a gift prepared.

"Uh, no. You mentioned exactly 129 rotations ago that you wanted the book. I saw no problem in getting it." He remembered...

You were moved to small tears, now flowing down your cheeks.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes, Tech. Of course I am." You rose to your feet, throwing yourself on him in a big hug. He hugged you back. While he didn't completely understand your acclimation to physical affection- he didn't mind you doing as you pleased to him.

He gently patted your back, and you pulled away. "Thank you, i'm going to have to finish this book quickly now. I can't wait to read it..."

"You are welcome." He responded, you let him be and lifted yourself off of him. He grabbed his datapad and clicked away.

What you didn't know was that sometimes Tech would watch you read. In times like these, when you found yourself sitting or laying next to each other. You reading, him on his datapad.

He would study your face, taking in every expression. He would think about what you were reading- was it sad, happy, thrilling? Feelings were a trivial matter to him, but he was always thinking of ways to make you happy.

He loved it when you read, sometimes out loud to him. It was soothing to hear your voice when he worked on a project or was fixing a part on The Marauder.

The way you tapped your foot, or bounced your leg when you got to a complex part in a book. Or, when you were both laying down together and accidentally hit Tech in shock at a twist in the story. He loved every bit of it.

You turned back to your original book, now more determined than ever to finish it.

You did, however, catch Tech staring this time. You met his gaze, a wide smirk on your face. You couldn't help but giggle briefly. He gave you an odd look, but went back to his datapad. Just as you went back to your book.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! Requests are about to be open, just one more to fulfill! As always, I am open to constructive criticism.

Tags- (LMK if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #tbb #fem reader #fanfic #tbb x reader #clone force 99 #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch #bad batch #ugh i love established relationship sm #established relationship #tech x reader #tech bad batch #tech the bad batch #tbb tech #tech x fem!reader #books and reading #tbb fanfiction #clone force 99 x reader #sw tbb #no spoilers #star wars x reader #tech x you #bad batch tech #tech tbb #star wars imagine #the bad batch imagine #the bad batch x reader

[libby-for-life]

So, can you do a sick one-shot with Adam and Lucifer? Maybe Adam has a fever and Lucifer reluctantly takes care of him. But then he starts to hallucinate things. Stuff that makes Lucifer question things about what he believes.

Oh? A challenge, hu? Since you didn't specify if this was my version of Adamsapple, I'm just going to assume that this is more traditional Adamsapple and go from there.

Sinner!Adam under contract with Lucifer.

Lucifer stood before Charlie with a sigh, feeling irritated. "Are you telling me that there isn't anyone else who can take care of him? I don't have time to deal with a whiney brat who is probably faking all this just to get attention," he grumbled. The devil was not convinced that Adam was genuinely sick. He wouldn't put it past him to fake it to receive special treatment.

Charlie replied, "Normally, I would take care of it, but I have a lot of paperwork to deal with." She gestured towards her desk, which was piled high with papers, making Lucifer wince. "Vaggie is busy with Niffty, Angel Dust and Husk are working, and Alastor is not an... option."

Lucifer shivered at the thought of Alastor taking care of Adam. The devil was under contract to protect the idiot from harm, but it would end badly for Adam if Alastor was involved. "Alright, I'll do it," he said, resigned.

"Thank you, Dad!" Charlie beamed at him, making him feel a little better. Teleporting to Adam's room, Lucifer hoped to catch him in the act of faking it but found himself in a dark room with the curtains drawn. The only thing he could see was a lump on Adam's bed.

Frustrated, the devil snapped his fingers, and the lights turned on. Adam let out a whimper, making Lucifer roll his eyes. "Oh, stop it. Nobody is buying this pity act," he said sternly.

When he got no reply, he growled again, "The hard way it is then." He stomped over to the sinner's bed and ripped the blankets off him. "Get up now!" Lucifer was done playing games. If Adam was going to continue acting this way, he didn't mind using force to beat some sense into him.

However, to his surprise, Adam didn't yell, swear, or even glare at him. Instead, he let out another whimper. This time, Lucifer actually looked at Adam and saw just how different he looked. His gray skin had an ashy color, his breath was labored, and his shirt was missing, revealing how sweaty he was. It was clear that Adam was genuinely sick.

Lucifer felt slightly guilty for making Adam uncomfortable when it was clear he was miserable with a fever.

Placing a hand on the sinner's forehead, he hissed at the heat. "Oh, you are sick, aren't you?" He murmured. "Alright, let's sit you up."

Soon, Adam was propped up on pillows, wrapped up in comfortable blankets, and looking at Lucifer with dazed eyes. The devil knew that the demon wasn't truly seeing him due to his sickness.

Gently draping a cool cloth onto Adam's forehead, he noticed how the sinner's eyes followed his every move.

"You're so beautiful...." Adam slurred.

Lucifer froze and looked at him confused. "Hu?" He must've been really out of it if he was complimenting him.

"Beautiful...so beautiful. I can see why she left me...I didn't stand a chance."

Lucifer grimaced when he realized that Adam must've been talking about Eden. Whether it was Eve or Lilith he was referring to was still being questioned in Lucifer's mind.

"Let's not waste your energy." Lucifer finally said.

Adam whimpered again but he continued talking. "Lilith was beautiful too...but she didn't like me...why did she not like me?"

"Maybe because you were a narcissistic dick who wanted to control her?" Lucifer said with a glare. Any kind of sympathy he had for the sinner was gone. How could Adam even ask that?!

Adam shook his head, clearly too out of it to understand that the devil was insulting him. "That's not what she said..." He slurred out. A look of sadness came over Adam and, to Lucifer's growing discomfort, looked like he was going to cry.

"She told me I was disgusting...that she didn't want to stand next to someone so ugly." Lucifer was too stunned to speak. What?

"She didn't like me talking. I talk too much. She liked to gag me when she couldn't stand the noise. It hurt...." Adam was now crying, big tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.

"Why didn't you fight back?" Lucifer immediately asked. If he hated how Lilith treated him, especially if it hurt, then why didn't he make her stop? Adam certainly never backed down from a fight. In fact, he was usually starting them.

"I wanted her to like me..." Adam replied with a groan. His breathing seemed labored. "If I did what she wanted...then she'll like me....even if it hurt. Even if it made me cry." Adam furrowed his eyebrows, his hazy eyes looking into the distance. "No...she didn't like me crying. She said it was annoying and ugly so I don't do it anymore." It was ironic with the tears streaming down his face.

Adam turned his golden eyes to the devil who flinched at the devastating but resigned look on his face. "I guess I didn't do it good enough...she found someone better...someone smarter...."

A large hand cupped Lucifer's cheek. "Who can compete with angels?" And then he passed out. Lucifer didn't know that he was holding his breath until he started gasping. What the fuck?

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #sickfic #oneshot #lilith

[incorrectbatfam]

I think you missed one member of Rob's crew. Their friend Jason Todd who comes round every so often with pizza and is actually rich or something.

A new neighbor moved in across the hall.

Rob didn't think much of it. People came in and out all the time. Traveling workers, runaway kids, aimless drifters. Half the tenants were squatters at any given time yet here he was paying rent like a total sucker.

He spat into the sink and rinsed. In the chipped mirror cabinet, he inspected himself. His rust-colored stubble was coming in, but not so quickly that he needed to shave today. He shrugged and threw on a clean shirt.

In the living room—if he could call it that, since it practically overlapped the kitchen—Milo entertained the kids with a mobile game while Gene was reading an Edgar Allen Poe book falling apart at the spine. They were the only other permanent residents besides the Steeler family. The rest of the crew came in and out as they pleased.

Rob said, "Kids, did you eat breakfast yet?"

The two six-year-olds nodded. The fifteen-year-old gave an affirmative grunt, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"What'd you have?" Rob asked.

"Donuts!" answered Gunner.

He raised an eyebrow. "Donuts?"

"Jay from across the hall brought them," said Jackie. "He also gave us these special donut hats. Look!"

Paper crinkled as she unfolded a Krispy Kreme hat and put it on top of her frizzy hair.

"I see." He nodded.

"Don't worry, I tested it first," Gene said.

"Thanks."

As Rob poured his morning coffee, he glanced at the box of a dozen donuts. A few of them were missing, naturally, but there was still a wide range of flavors. Next to it was an unfinished thank you card from Jackie, presumably before she got distracted.

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about the neighbors. But this one—this Jay who wouldn't even tell them his last name—had been on Rob's mind since the first "anonymous" free pizza delivery a week ago. Of course, with online ordering there was always a digital footprint, which Mac tracked to the apartment across the hall. After that, there was the "anonymous" Chinese takeout.

Then, Jay started talking to them and it was the standard neighborly conversations down by the mail room. When he asked Rob what he did for a living, Rob answered vaguely that he was freelancing. Gene was unemployed and he could outright say it. Jay also asked the kids what they wanted for the upcoming holidays when the complex residents were setting up the Christmas tree. Jackie wanted a pony and Gunner wanted a monster truck, and for a moment it seemed like Jay was in serious consideration.

Still, Jay was a stranger. As the encounters continued, it became an unspoken rule that either Rob or Gene be with the kids when the young man was around. One could never be too cautious in Gotham.

Rob finished his coffee and debated taking a donut, but ultimately decided against it. He grabbed his jacket, keys, and pack of cigarettes, telling Milo and the kids (mostly Milo) not to make a mess in the ten minutes he would be gone.

He didn't like smoking on the balcony. It was too close to the children and he didn't want them to get sick. Worse, he didn't want them to pick up the same dirty habit that he only got hooked on because he was a dumb kid that didn't know any better.

He trekked four floors down only to find, lo and behold, he wasn't alone.

A cigarette hung from Jay's fingers as he leaned against the brick wall at the entryway. "'Sup."

Rob acknowledged him with a short nod before lighting his own.

Rob glanced at Jay. It wasn't his first time observing but he always liked to note the subtle changes. The young man—about a decade younger than Rob—sported only a red sweatshirt and grease-stained jeans despite the cold. Since last time, Jay had gained a bruise on his cheek and a cut on his forehead just under his white streak. Rob didn't know what his neighbor did for a living other than it left him with a different mottling of injuries every week.

Jay spoke. "Ever heard of third-hand smoke?"

Rob. "What's that?"

"Firsthand is what we're doing right now, basically inhaling these cancer sticks. Secondhand would be if someone was standing close to us while we do it. Thirdhand smoke is the smell left on you after you go back inside and it's potentially harmful," he said. "You have kids, right?"

"The hell kind of question is that? You've met then."

"I'm just saying, you might wanna consider stopping by the laundry before you go back up."

"Fantastic. Another way I'm a shit dad." Rob grunted and took a drag.

Jay flicked some ashes off. "I know a think or two about shit fathers and the fact that you're worried about being one means you're on the right track."

"How can I be a good dad when I can't even provide them breakfast?"

"I asked your older kid and he said it was fine."

"Milo isn't mine and he's not the one in charge. Next time, take it up with me."

"Duly noted."

Rob took another long drag and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the past two days' worth of residue from not washing. It caked under his nails like week-old bacon grease on unwashed dishes. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. All of him.

The sleeping around. The accidental pregnancy with a woman he barely knew. The fights. Him throwing her out into a rainstorm. Becoming a widower before he turned thirty with two kids who will never remember her. The backbreaking jobs. Not being good enough to not be laid off. The sketchy investment and losing nearly everything. The sneaking, the breaking, the taking.

And the excuses. All the ways he convinced himself he was in the right.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jay asked.

"I doubt it's worth a even penny," Rob answered. "I've just been wondering lately what my kids will remember me as when they get older. The business I'm in doesn't have a good reputation and I don't want that to be the first thing that comes to mind when they think of me—someone who only takes. I dunno why I'm telling you all this."

"Hey, it's a valid concern. The work I do also leaves me with those types of questions."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"A little bit of everything," Jay replied vaguely. "But back to what I was saying: your kids aren't gonna remember your day job. But I know they'll remember you putting them on your shoulders to hang the tinsel last weekend."

"I admit, you got a point." Rob flattened the cigarette butt under his boot before tossing it in the nearly trash can. "Anyway, thanks for co-hosting my morning pity party, but I have some errands to run. Starting with laundry."

Jay smiled. "I'll see you around."

"Hopefully," he said, smiling back.

There was something familiar about his neighbor, but Rob couldn't put his finger on it.

Ah, well. At least this one came with free food. Rob would be an idiot if he didn't take a donut while the washing machine wrung the smoke out his clothes.

#see previous posts #jason todd #red hood #original character #batman #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc villains #gotham rogues #dc comics #headcanon #dc fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ficlet #tw smoking #tw swearing #tw food mention #long post

[echobx]

not my type 4 - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: y/n has to go work in the OBX a yearafter she last saw Rafe and things take their turns...

warnings: fluff, smut (p in v (unprotected))

word count: 2.5k

author's note: I'm not a fan of what I did here and I wouldn't even feel bad if y'all hated me for it bc it's just shit in my eyes, but I also don't have the capacity to change it or write it anew but I also didn't wanna leave it unfinished. that's all.

part 1 part 2 part 3

You don't want to move to the OBX, but it's what your father expects of you and it's a promotion. You'll be in charge of the division, hiring new brokers, taking care of business. It’s a huge step forward from all the number pushing you had to do the last year since Florida was opened.  But, just like you predicted, it had been worth it, and now you're supposed to actually bring in good numbers from the island strip.  And on top of that, you are sure that you're over him. A whole year is a long time after all. 

“And the beach is just gorgeous,” you tell your friend Parker, who helped you move. You're both standing in the new office building, looking out of a window, not noticing Rafe's approaching behind you.  “That wholly depends on what side of the island you're on,” Rafe comments, and you turn around to look at him. His polo shirt hugs his muscles perfectly and the shorts sit a bit low. It's in stark contrast to the very formal rosé colored suit you're wearing.  But the worst part of it is that your heart starts fluttering just a little when his blue eyes rake over you.  “We'll find out soon enough,” you hit him back and take Parker's hand, intertwining your fingers, and to your own luck he just goes with it. You had been friends for too long for him to question your moves, and he also knew way too much about what had happened between Rafe and you.  “Good,” Rafe smiles and turns to walk into his office.  “Okay, y/n/n, I get it, but you're also crushing my hand,” Parker laughs lightly, and you let go of him.  “I'm gonna be so okay. Yes. I'll just be okay. Right?” you tell yourself and walk into your office to set it up. 

When you go out for lunch, Rafe simply joins you uninvited. You focus on Parker, on pretending that you're with him, not just because you have to keep your mind from slipping to Rafe. But mostly because you want to know if he's going to be jealous.  And from the way his jaw clenches when you kiss Parker's cheek, it seems to be working. 

However, it's only working for a week, because your friend has to go back home and the moment he's gone you jump headfirst into work. If you won't let your mind rest, it can't think of Rafe. That's your strategy.  It's a flawed one though, because after three weeks of excessive paperwork and hiring new staff, you find your desk empty, nothing left to do. At least not enough to keep you occupied for more than a few hours each day. 

“There's an issue with the Campbell property,” Rafe says while walking into your office, not having knocked. “I thought you might want to look at it before I make a decision.” He hands you the papers, and you look over it, but you can't find any mistakes on it.  “And what's your verdict?” you ask, hoping that it'll help you figure out what might be wrong, because even after reading the notes a third time, you still can't find the problem.  “You work too much,” he shrugs and you drop the paper.  “What?”  “Nothing. It's a numbers issue, see,” Rafe points at the yard size. “They say it's 0.7 acres, but it's actually just below 0.6 acres.” “How do you know that?” “Because I've been to that house. Do you want to risk us getting sued?” he cocks his brow up and you sigh.  “I'll send Darryl to measure it out. Anything else?”  “Your boyfriend isn't around as much as I thought he'd be.” Rafe lets his fingers run over the glass of your desk, and you bite the inside of your cheek to not smile. The small glimpse of jealousy makes your heart skip a beat. It's stupid, really, because you don't know each other, you shouldn't feel like that for a guy you had slept with twice over a year ago. And yet, you still did.  “Parker has his work, and I have mine,” you smile politely.  “I see. Well, the Campbell thing,” Rafe notes before walking out again, and your heart is still pounding like crazy after the small interaction. 

You keep working, trying to keep your distance and he does the same. Only talking when it's really necessary to keep the office out of the reds.  You don't notice that he keeps eyeing you when you're not looking, that he makes sure that the kitchen is always stocked with your favorite snack. And you don't know that he notices how the small packets only ever go missing when you have a rough day or had an unplanned call from your father. And that you dress more so provocatively when you have a showing than when it's just an office day. Or how you strip off your heels when you sit at your desk for more than five minutes. He picks up on all of your little antics, and he doesn't even want to, he's over it just as much as you, but he can't help it either. 

And for the brokers open two months after your start in the OBX he makes sure that the caterer has a non-seafood option alongside the tiny lobster rolls and crab cakes. Because he knows you don't eat it, and he wants to get on your good side again, although he's aware that food won't be the way to do it. 

“Old fashioned?” Rafe holds the glass out for you, and you take it with a hushed “thank you.” “That's what you had the-”  “I remember,” you look up at him, his hair is cut back to a buzz cut, and you don't know if you like it as much. It does accentuate his features though, which isn't a bad thing at all. The sharp nose and high cheekbones, the crooked smile he always greets you with- No, you can't let yourself think of him again. It was hard enough as is, to survive living and working so close to him.  “You look good,” Rafe nods at you, and you don't know what to reply. The short black dress is showing off more than you intended to, but your best friend Claire convinced you to put it on anyway when you called her earlier that day.  “Uhm… thanks,” you mumble and let your eyes run over him, half buttoned shirt and suit pants. He hadn't dressed up at all and the fact that he didn't need to, and your heart was still racing, was speaking volumes. “You clean up nice too,” you tell him and look away again. 

You try mingling, networking a little and gossiping a little less. But when you overhear a broker from a different brokerage talk about Rafe you simply can't stop yourself. The words coming out of her mouth won't add up to the Rafe you know and try to hate.  She talks about dark escapades and less intriguing things but follows them up with a harsh comment on his person. Maybe she is jealous, you choose to believe that rather than what she keeps talking about. There's nothing less believable than all the atrocious things she mentions and yet when you look at yourself in the mirror of the restroom later that night, you think it doesn't matter. Everyone has a past after all.  “He's not like that anymore, right?” you ask yourself quietly after freshening up your lipstick. 

You see Rafe standing at the side, not wanting to talk to anyone, and you start to realize why. You start to understand why he never ate lunch in the kitchen with you or the team.  “Networking is part of the job,” you remind him while placing yourself next to him.  “Not with this folk,” he replies dryly.  “You shouldn't care what they say.” You look up at him and meet his gaze.  “I don't. Do you?”  “I don't think it's possible to do this job if you're not a stone-cold killer at heart.”  He flinches at your wording but he nods. “Are you?”  “Have to.”  “You don't though,” he seems almost sorry, but he turns away again, nipping on his drink.  “Didn't get a choice much,” you mumble absentmindedly. 

“Contradictory,” Rafe huffs a laugh.  “What?”  “You. It's contradictory. You saying you didn't get a choice after telling me you made the choice freely,” he looks at you again, eyes scanning your face.  “Didn’t think you'd remember,” you mutter and turn around, wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air, but his hand shoots out to grasp your wrist.  “Don't go, please.”  “Why?” you turn around to look at him sternly. “I'm sorry, about all of it,” he apologizes, and let's go again.  “I'm over it,” you lie.  “You're really not,” he whispers and steps closer. “And it's my fault, all of it. I'm sorry, sugar.” 

“Are the stories true? The shit they talk about you behind your back?” you ask and he nods.  “Okay,” you say and he furrows his brows.  “You don't care?”  “Not really. I mean, that was then and now is now. I know the crazy shit people do when they're high,” you shrug, and he looks a bit confused. “And the daddy issues on top of that. I mean, I get it. We've both got our fair share of daddy issues, right?”  “Right,” Rafe drags out the word, he truly didn't expect you to not care about it at all. If anything, he thought you might run again, and the fact that you don't is confusing him.  “Do you wanna get out of here and get hammered?” you whisper, and a grin spreads on your face when he takes your hand and pulls you away. 

That's how you find yourself bent over your own desk, mind hazy and a moaning mess as he fucks you.  “Too much,” you cry but Rafe just laughs. “I know you can take it, baby.” And you know he's right, but you love to be told over and over again.  “You're so good to me. So tight, sugar.”  “Gonna cum,” you moan, and he stops, pulls out and makes you turn around.  “Sit up, pretty girl, and look at me.” You follow the order, sitting up and moving to the very edge of the table before he pulls your legs over his shoulders and enters you again. 

His hand presses down on your stomach and you groan. It's all too much, and he's making it worse, moving to press on your clit with his thumb before drawing harsh circles and your eyes roll back in response.  “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps into a kiss, biting down on your bottom lip when your orgasm rips through you, squeezing him so hard that he can't hold it in anymore and shoots his hot cum into your pulsating core. “Fuck, you're perfect. So hot. Missed you so much,” Rafe pants, still buried deep inside of you and not ready to actually let go.  “Forgot how big it was,” you whisper and feel him twitching inside you. It’s just a silly little note, but it's all he needed to get hard again and fuck you again, not caring about the mess you were making. 

“Bet he's not fucking you like that,” Rafe pants, and you don't know what he's talking about, but you let it slide, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you.  “Mine. All mine,” he rambled, lips attached to your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving a plethora of open-mouthed kisses on it.  “Yours, daddy. All yours,” you moan and hold onto him tighter, pressing yourself against him to try to force him into you deeper.  “Soak me, pretty,” he breathes against your lips, one hand holding your jaw, the other between your legs, rubbing your clit. And his blue eyes are barely visible as he stares into yours.  “Make me,” you hush but scream when he pinches your clit before rubbing it again.  “Don't be a brat, sugar. Come on. Soak daddy's dick,” he grins, drops of sweat running down his toned body, and you swear you'd lick him clean all over if he let you. And when his tongue once again entangles with yours, your eyes roll back and your legs tremble. Screaming at the high he managed to give you and far past it as he fucks you through it and empties his load into you for the second time. 

And the next few weeks you spend the same, pretending like nothing happened while letting him fuck you every single night. You don't want to talk about all the things that you should clearly talk about.  Like the fact that he still believes that you have a boyfriend up in New York, or that he keeps staying longer until he falls asleep next to you, and you don't have the heart to kick him out.  But you groan when you wake up and see him try to get ready as quietly as he can. 

“What are you doing?”  “Didn't mean to wake you, sugar,” Rafe apologizes and leans over you, placing a kiss on your lips.  “Don't go,” you whisper as he hovers over you. “I don't want you to go.”  “Are you sure?” he asks and you nod again. It takes him less than ten seconds to strip himself of his pants and jump back into bed. 

Your head is nuzzled into his neck while you hold onto him, somewhat scared that'll it's just a dream.  “I think you should break up with your boyfriend,” Rafe mumbles.  “Boyfriend?” you pull away with furrowed brows.  “Yeah. Not really fair to him. Not really fair to us,” he doesn't look at you as he says it.  “Us?” It's not that the term itself is confusing to you, but more so the fact that it's coming from him. That he's saying it so casually.  “Yeah. If you didn't have that Parker guy, I could actually take you out, show you off,” he whispers and finally lowers his eyes to see your awestruck face. “What?” 

“You want to date me?”  “I would yes. Is that hard to believe?”  “I'm me, and you're… you,” you answer, but he just kisses you, hoping to smother all your doubts with it. 

“Rafe?” you whisper and he nods. “Parker isn't my boyfriend, I just wanted to make you jealous,” you admit with a whisper and to your surprise he starts laughing. “What's so funny?”  “I didn't even think of that,” he laughs and starts plastering you in kisses. “So smart. So perfect. So pretty,” he says in between kisses.  “Do you really think so?” you ask, and he nods repeatedly, a smile playing on his lips.  “You're so beautiful, y/n.”  “Okay,” you blush and try to hide under the sheets, but he pulls them down to kiss you again and again, and you don't think he'd ever want to stop, and you wouldn't tell him to either. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy @notdxbya @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @julczimozart

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #obx fanfiction #~fanfiction #smut #my writing

[amphiptere-art]

This is Dim.

And they are so pretty.

I have never been happier to actually see this character. To actually be able to visualize Dim. My first sort of OC.

Do they look like blue moon but color swapped? Totally. Yes. I don't give a damn. Dim became Blue Moon through the design process by accident. I don't think it's terrible and that Dim takes some of his design back. I'm just happy to see him.

I created them in the era when everything was just something I imagined in my head. If I couldn't get a design through line art, there was no way it was going to come on page. Color wasn't a thing I used. And yet that was the whole prospect of Dim. This colorful character propped with the colors of the setting or rising Sun. Stark colors of blue and yellow marking out his duty. It was just something I couldn't do in line art. There is no way in all hell I could express that.

And yet now I do. Have colors! Something I scarcely used on paper. It always took too much time, was too much of a worry, I didn't have the right shade. Now at the click of a couple buttons and a quick Google search I can have all the colors I ever want. Dim can be alive in every aspect that I ever wanted him to be.

Dim's design on paper is boring. Even now if I remove the color it looks silly. It's a bunch of stripes on a standard DCA with a couple of unique ribbon and ray orientations. It's not that surprising and contrasting.

But it works so well with color. Just the stark difference between the stripes and their main body hues. Blue Moon took Dim's design because it just didn't work with line art. Either looked too stagnant or too exciting. My philosophy has always been to make the line art poppy, because that's what I've always had. But it also removes the splendor from characters that probably would have looked better with the color. Always scribbled dark areas to just express it because it wouldn't work else wise.

I am very happy with Dim's design. I have never been happier to see this character I devoted an entire section of my little story making mind too. This little security drone. Plugged into a body that don't know how to move with. Thrown into a consciousness they never had to correlate with. Able to interact with a humans on a level they've never had beyond the screen. Able to understand music.

Say hello to Dim. The little AI that loves the sound like a dance.

#dca au #dca fandom #dca fnaf #dca oc #dca eclipse #daycare attendant eclipse #fnaf sb eclipse #fnaf eclipse #fnaf eclipse oc #Dim #Warehouse AU #eclipse

[love-islike-abomb]

Mexico

Roman reigns x Mystic (OC)

"Yo-ho, Mexico! Far to the south where the cactus grow! Take me away from the ice and the snow! Let's go to Mexico!"

(a/n: you know the photo Paul posted of him saying "when the tribal chief summons you" it gave me an idea so here we are. I actually started this a while ago but I've been in a creative rut so it took me longer then I thought it would)

Warnings: fluff, smut, errors I may have missed, its also LONG!!

Word count: 1.4k

Tag list: @acknowledge-reigns @reignsangel444 @mzv11 @marchm-langdon @mandeelemons @pittieprincess22 @queengreenarrowmia89 @romanreignshairdresser @weirdgirl16355

_______

The winter months in Canada are so harsh! A 20° day is a heatwave here! It was so cold that when I threw boiling water in the air it turned to ice almost instantly. Some people had some fun with it and put food coloring in the water before throwing it while it did make for a bit of fun I wanted somewhere warm.

"you look deep in thought Mystic. What's on your mind" Paul asked.

"I'm just missing my husband that's all" I said with a half smile.

"well he's called me resently and he's bought you a plane ticket" Paul smiled.

"wait what? To where?" I asked.

"Mexico City" Paul smiled "your flight leaves in 3 hours so pack your bags and I'll take you to the airport"

I hadn't seen my husband in 3 months and I had a surprise for him. Paul was the only person I'd told because I had to tell someone "you haven't told him have you?" I asked.

"your secret is safe with me" Paul smiled "but i know he'll be over the moon"

"you think so?" I said, trying to hide the worry in my voice. We had talked about kids but never really got into detail about it. I was afraid Paul was just trying to soothe my nerves.

"mystic, he's always wanted kids. There's no need for you to worry" Paul smiled.

I took what he said at face value. I was worried but we've been married for 2 years now and I'm pretty sure he wasn't going anywhere "alright I'll go get packed" I said with a soft smile, walking away from paul to Roman and i's room. I grabbed my suitcase out of the closet and packed my bikini, several pairs of shorts, shirts, panties, bras, pajamas, and flip flops. I grabbed the pregnancy test I took and wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in the front of my suitcase. I zipped up my suitcase and walked out to Paul "come on mystic, I'll drive you to the airport" paul smiled, grabbing my suitcase.

"paul I'm pregnant not an invilet" I laughed "im perfectly capable of rolling my own bags"

"my tribal chief has told me that I take care of his wife while she's traveling to him. Im just doing what I'm told" he smiled.

I shook my head and smiled "I truly did marry an amazing man!"

At the airport

Sitting on his private jet I wondered how he was gonna react. I didn't have much time to think on it because my phone rang and he was on Skype. I answered and saw his gorgeous smile "hey babe!" I smiled.

"hi babygirl!" He smiled "I see Paul has taken you to the airport. I can't wait to see you! I was planning on taking you to the ruins of Tenochtitlan!" He smiled.

"I would love that! You know if it wasn't for the indigenous a lot of things people use every day wouldn't exist. Things like rubber wouldnt exist and we wouldn't have tires or those expensive shoes we wear wouldn't have their rubber souls. Mouthwash wouldn't exist, syringes, baby bottles and baby formula, the cultivation of corn, snow goggles, birth control, oral and topical pain killers, cable suspension bridges and many othes! None of those things would exist and we really should appreciate them more!"

"I agree! Also quinine!" He smiled.

"you've done your research! The first ever anti malarial drug!" I smiled.

"flight 21 now boarding for Mexico City!" The announcer said over the intercom.

"that's me babe! I'll see you soon!" I smiled "I love you"

"I love you to baby girl" he smiled back.

"you're a very lucky woman!" An older woman next to me said "he's a very handsome man!"

"he's my everything!" I smiled back, getting up to board the plane.

I handed my ticket to the stewardess "oh Mrs Anoa'i your on a private plane!" She smiled.

"he never disappoints" I smiled.

10 hours later in Mexico city

The flight here was uneventful and when I arrived I couldnt get off the plane fast enough. I knew he'd be at the airport waiting for me. I grabbed my carry on and headed off the plane. The the fight attendant opened the door he was standing at the bottom of the stairs with a smile on his face. I ran down the stairs and leapt into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist "hey baby" he smiled giving me a kiss "I missed you"

"i missed you to!" I smiled back as he set my feet back on the ground.

"We'll go to Tenochtitlan tomorrow!" He smiled "i have something planned for tonight" he said with a smirk. I knew what that meant. I wasn't gonna know my own name. the mere thought of him taking me all over the hotel room- "mystic? Are you ok baby? You look kinda pale"

"yeah I'm fine. I'm just a little queasy. I have a surprise for you" I smiled

"oh what's that's?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and reached into the front of my bag and took out the pregnancy test i'd taken before handing it to him.

"what's this?" He asked.

"what does it look like" I smiled nervously.

"are you pregnant?" He smiled.

"yes" I smiled back.

"baby why are you shaking?" He asked.

"I'm scared" I said "I'm scared that you'll leave now that you know"

He put his hand under my chin, gently moving my gaze to meet his "baby i don't know why you'd think I'd leave just because you're pregnant. I know we've vaguely talked about kids but you have nothing to worry about!" He smiled and I felt my body relax. I leaned into him, feeling his strong arms wrapping around me, realizing I was safe in his arms.

"come on let's get back to the hotel" he smiled. I'm sure you're tired"

"I am but I want my husband!" I said with a smirk.

"oh yeah?" He said licking his lips "I'll take you all over our hotel room!"

At the hotel

"fuck baby girl!" He growled "that mouth feels so good!"

I felt him twitch in my mouth and I knew he was close. I felt him pull me off him, my mouth making a popping noise "face down ass up baby!"

I happily obeyed, shaking my ass when I was on all 4s. I felt him tease me with the tip, sliding it through my wet folds "Roman please!" I whined.

"so impatient!" He said finally sliding himself inside me, both of us moaning out in pleasure. I don't know if it was the pregnancy hormones or not but feeling him inside me for the first time in 3 months activated a part of me I didn't know was there. I moved my hips against his, fucking myself on his hardened flesh "oh fuck baby girl! That's it! Fuck yourself on my cock!" The sound of his hand connecting to my ass rang out and he ran his hand up the curve of my back and into my hair before grabbing a handful and pulling me back, thrusting into me, His hips snapping against mine. He pulled me so I was on my knees and reached his hand around to grab my throat "i'm gonna take you all over This hotel room! You'd like that wouldn't you? You wanna be my little whore?" He growled in my ear.

I bit my lip "yes daddy!" I groaned.

"say it to me!" He growled.

"please use me!" I groaned.

"that's my good girl!" He growled.

"fuck baby! The way that pussy is gripping me I think you're close! Be a good girl and cum on my cock!" He growled. Fuck his dirty talk always got me. "Fuck! Yesss!" I groaned.

"that's it baby! Let it go!" He groaned into my ear "uhn fuck! That's it milk my cock! Milk it dry! Uhn I'm gonna fill that pussy!"

His thrusts became sloppy and eratic, his hot cum coating my walls. A few last sloppy thrusts and he stilled inside me, both of us trying to catch our breath. He slowly pulled out of me and collapsed on the bed and I followed him, snuggling into him "I love you" I smiled.

He smiled back "I love you to baby girl"

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #the only daddy☝️😩🫦 #wwe smackdown #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe x oc #roman reigns x oc #wwe smut #roman reigns smut #wwe #wwe fic #roman reigns imagine

[loadedberetta]

the CoD boys react - !SO Reader being pregnant

rating: M

warning/content: general pregnancy stuff; description of pregnancy pain and birth; fluff; female Reader

[series with random headcanons about specific situations involving the reader and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [knife tricks] [drawing] [coming soon]

find me on ao3 // MASTERLIST

Ghost

"you're not doing [blank] alone."

will fight God if that's what it takes; let it be the groceries or ordering a new couch

found out by sheer intuition; you were bummed that you didn't get to do a little surprise but he assured you that the news made him the happiest man alive and you sincerely believed him;

how exactly? that man knows his shit; you being groggy in the morning? not taking a sip of his beer when watching telly at night? he's got it figured out

doesn't really know how to prep but is too shy to ask you anything so you just find him passed out on the couch every now and then with his laptop glowing at him with "how to build a crib" or "baby sign language" when you can't even tell the baby's gender yet

it took you a week to convince him that you indeed can go to the bathroom alone

tries the more laid-back cravings and doesn't like them; never forgets to ask you about the latest one when you're grocery shopping

is occupied when you go and check for the gender of the baby; you call him from the parking lot with the news; you don't often hear Simon cry but he did that day

calls the baby bug and bezzie, mumbling at your stomach

looks up how to relieve pain with that tummy-lifting technique when your bump grows larger and larger

holds your hand and remains grounded for the entirety of the birth

becomes a very shallow sleeper; the baby stirs and he's at their feet looking over their tiny little body for any sign of distress

Soap

"it's mine, right?"

will go to the ends of the world to get you a pregnancy pillow, but only in the color he likes too

found out on accident; you didn't mind. he came into the bathroom to brush his teeth one morning and found you slouched by the wall, tears of joy in your eyes

insists on picking clothes super early on and revives any old contact of his to get a special baby carrier or a bottle boiler he heard about once

will not shut up about it

tries every single one of your cravings and actually ends up liking some of them

gender reveal party

laddie or lassie depending on the baby's gender, accompanied by approx. 400,000 kisses to your belly daily

gets you all kinds of tape for your growing belly and applies them himself

almost faints during the birth but can't stay away from you

the first time you wake up the next time after your well-deserved rest, he's talking to a nurse while gently cradling the baby; he's a dream dad, who seems to take on the role immediately

Gaz

"what's this… you have to be fucking kidding me this is the best fucking day of my life, babe. can the baby hear me? shit. shit. uhhhh--"

you planned a little party and hid the test in a box to surprise him; it went perfectly, everyone cried

absolutely showers you with stuff he noticed on a shelf at a store that the baby wouldn't likely use until 12 or even 24 months old

"thought you'd like it" is the new most popular word in the household

you get don't touch a single piece of cleaning equipment or dirty dish in the house for nine months

you could get used to this

tries spicing up your cravings; plating them nicely or adding something new

never shuts up about how he used to babysit and will therefore make a good dad

"I just want a happy healthy baby the gender matters the least" he kisses you on your forehead as you open the envelope containing the papers on the couch

tells the baby about the happy family they'll be born into and sometimes mumbles names at your belly as if testing which one fits them best; he looks up at you for approval each time

goes with you to pregnant yoga classes to see how he can help you practice with you at home when the baby in your tummy grows bigger

cries with you during birth

his hand is always by the side of the crib in the hospital

Price

"wh- you? c'mere, love. really?"

touches touches and more touches, is glued to your side from the day he finds out; you're not allowed to lift anything

is very self-conscious about everything; helps out wherever he can, you have to put him down each time

you get into arguments about this but he always downplays it with a little teasing that always eases the mood and you can't help but adore the stressful old man he is

tries to quit smoking but he only resettles on the balcony/porch/out-the-window technique; even more so when you're in his proximity

keeps notes of all your cravings

becomes a fridge organizer and buys healthy food only

talks to the baby so much calls your stomach the most adorable names ever

asks you not to find out the gender of the baby until birth

expert massage therapist for when your belly becomes too heavy; pressure points you name it he knows how to relieve pain

his one hand is getting shattered in your fist, and his other is smoothing over your hair constantly during birth

a little afraid to hold the baby on his own at first, but gradually warms up to the idea, and bath time becomes his favorite

Alejandro

"mi corazón, we get to be parents?! I love you so much, I--"

his mother knew first and lead him to guess for himself while you were out of earshot in another room; he came in and swooped you up to pepper kisses all over you

your phone bill is through the roof: he calls up every abuela and uncle he can for tips, even sits down with his baby nieces and nephews to ask them what they like for breakfast and stuff

sings to your stomach in his low baritone

gets the baby a little golden necklace; it's a gift in the family

you inherit SO MANY kids' clothes; you feel like you never have to buy a piece of diaper again; nor a blanket

you go through a list of old wives' tales about finding out the gender, but you end up waiting until the birth

will try to home-cook all your cravings: make pickles or banana ice cream from scratch

tries (and succeeds) to remedy your pregnancy pains; herbs, physio, he's got it all

he knows what he's doing or he's just a natural; birth never seemed so quick and easy with him by your side

you catch him the first time humming to the baby in the hospital, while gently rocking the little one

Rudy

"you missed your period. wait, you missed your period?? test, test now, mi alma"

he ushers you in the bathroom and waits outside on the bed, thrumming his fingers against the soft bedding

is the happiest fucking thing when you let him in and he notices a faint crossing line on the test immediately

get ready for nine months of non-ending praise

has a new nickname for the baby every day

plays music to your bump nonstop

loves, I mean LOVES pregnant you; every inch of your body, your plump breasts, your growing tummy, the stretch marks on your skin, name it he's a sucker for it

the two of you go to the doctor together to find out the baby's gender and he's already crying in the parking lot before you go in

looks up non-spicy/pregnancy-safe versions of everyday dishes and makes them for you no questions asked

ends up inheriting your pregnancy pillow after you give birth, and takes it to the base for when he has to sleep without you; seriously, it smells like pregnant you what could be better

he talks you through the birth, his voice is calm and grounding

talks to the baby in a hushed voice whenever he can; smiles at you every time the little one makes a face during

König

"are you sure?"

you sat him down and told him plainly the moment he came home from deployment; he laugh-cries and hugs you for hours on end after

if you thought he was the biggest cuddlebug-snugglebear already, you're deeply mistaken

talks to your stomach in German; gives the baby 2-3 little nicknames you can't quite catch

will not leave you alone; becomes a bigger, more deadly baby

when I tell you he's protective--

pretends to like the taste of your cravings; he truly likes the fact that he can make you happy with a jar of pickles he got from the local farmers' market

little trinkets for the win; binkie-shaped keychain, baby spoon with Biene Maya on it…

waits for you to tell him the baby's gender

more stressed than you during the birth; manages to hide it

settles on one of the nicknames he already tried and calls the baby that; also afraid to hold the little one because according to him the baby would get lost in his arms

#task force 141 #cod mw ii #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #cod headcanons #cod fandom #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #mw2022 #modern warfare 2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap cod #john soap mactavish #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #captain john price #captain price cod

[emperor-palpaminty]

Pages

I downloaded TikTok and saw this one and had to write something for Keegan. Hehe. My inbox is open for COD requests!

There is kissing and cussing in this one so if ya don't like it leave byeeeee. GN readerx keegan. Also it makes more sense that someone in the military would have an e-reader instead of a bunch of heavy books so congrats, you are the proud owner of a book tablet now

When war was not filled with blood or adventures, war dragged. Slow. It was as if Ares himself was lazily strolling with a too-heavy war hammer, yawning.

Not that you minded, necessarily. It gave you time to actually delve into your books. Your e-reader had been an absolute life saver- on long days in the field it would help you take breaks and get some literature in, and it was way lighter than ink-and-paper books. Plus, you didn't have to go into the library to get books that you had on hold.

Unfortunately, some books in the library would all line up to where their holds would finish at the same time and wind up on your e-reader. This usually meant marathon reading sessions at odd times, or at least times where you wouldn't have normally read. Between water breaks while working out, you would speed read through the latest fantasy novel. At the mess, you skimmed the pulp romance your mom had recommended to you. When the computer lab was down, you would examine some half-interesting autobiography or scientific breakdown. And all of it was at the palms of your hands in an instant.

You enjoyed reading.

This love did not go unnoticed- the Ghosts would often chuckle or pester you because you hated being interrupted. Sometimes you would get questions of what you were reading, maybe commenting that their spouses or parents or so-and-so from such-and-such company had mentioned something about that book.

Especially, this did not go unnoticed by Keegan. Not only did he notice it, but it annoyed him. Not the fact you read, or were quiet, or drawn into some fantastical world- he enjoyed that. Watching how your eyes were drawn down on your book, how your fingers would find their way to rest on your mouth or fidget on the table, those were all bonuses. He enjoyed the occasional book himself. However, what annoyed him was....

"Kid."

Nothing. Keegan exhaled, crossing his arms. You were hard to pull out of your little world of books and words. Cute? Yes. Frustrating?

"Hey. Kid."

You gasped and shifted forward, staring at the words, muttering something off towards him. Your lips moved, pressing out a brief oh, wow as you turned the page on your e-reader. They pursed, and they looked soft. Distracted. Kissable.

Absolutely frustrating.

Keegan shoved his gaze from your mouth and reached down, taking your cheeks. "Damn it, kid." He turned your head towards him, leaning down, eye level. "You get sucked in real easy. Cause all kinds of problems that way."

You blinked, hazy as you settled back into reality. The black gloves were rough on your cheeks, almost pressing your lips into a pout, and those blue eyes were close. You sucked in a breath. With it came his smell- musk, wood, something masculine. "Sorry."

Keegan didn't move. Topaz irises skimmed your face, dropping to the lips, watching as you licked them, nervously, your own eyes avoiding him. "Sorry?"

"For getting distracted. I don't get too much time to read, and all my books came off hold at the same time..." Your voice trailed off, and your thumb flicked down, turning off the e-reader. "I wanted to read as much as possible before we went out to the field again." You were vaugely aware that his eyes were still plastered on your face and studying you. Those eyes- they stopped you and haunted you and made you freeze, but kick-started your every nerve.

Behind the mask, Keegan sighed. "I get that. Means a lot to you." His grip loosened on your face but the hand did not drop away. He thumbed over your face, the touch hesitating just at the color of your mouth. Were your eyes playing tricks on you, or did his gaze soften? "Promise." His voice was gentler now. "I'll make it up to you."

Your head tilted, watching what you could see of his face. Heat built up under your skin. It wouldn't have surprised you if he could have felt how warm you were under the leather gloves. "Uh-huh." Was all your very intelligent and very smart brain could muster.

Keegan's free hand grabbed the bottom of his mask and he yanked it up. You barely had time to catch the dark stubble and the surprisingly full lips before he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours.

His hold on your cheeks were not demanding. It was loose enough to where you could have pulled away, left.

But you didn't. How could you? He huffed, the breath warm from his nose as he turned his head into you, and you swore that you heard a soft groan as you leaned up, your grip on your e-reader loosening and finding its way into his shirt, a fist crumpling against it. A gloved hand moved to the back of your neck, supporting you as you leaned your head back. He pulled back just enough to mutter sweet thing against you before going back in for more. Surprisingly, what stubble he had was soft, you realized as you ran your fingers over his jaw. Your fingers clasped the cotton shirt tighter, his body pressing your back against the corner of the table.

You didn't even hear the door down the hall open. Keegan pressed away, yanking the mask back down and stepping back. You blinked, hands frozen in the air where he had been, eyes locked on his own and looking for answers in them.

"Later," Was all he said, and he turned and left as Ghosts began to enter the mess. You turned back to your reading, quickly, but found that the words weren't as distracting as they were before Keegan had kissed you.

#keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #cod keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #cod reader insert #minty writes #call of duty reader insert #call of duty keegan x reader #call of duty keegan x you #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ reader insert

[snek-panini]

Very belated Binderary books, uh...I've lost track actually. I think they are #6 and #7. And it's another two-volume split! This is (Slow) Burn, Baby, Burn by orchidlocked, an extremely long Good Omens fic set in the 1970s. It's about our favorite angel/demon pair navigating the disco scene, and it's not an AU, which is sort of usual in a fic this long and with such a specific premise. There are a fair few real people featured here, some as major characters, and a lot of music history and an excellent playlist alongside all the fun and angsty relationship stuff that so many of us are here for. I learned a lot about disco reading this fic and it was fascinating and also way more queer than I ever realized.

For the cover up there we have a white Allure book cloth on the spine, and white HTV over homemade book cloth for the main cover. The cloth pieces both come from the same sheet but I oriented the stripes this way so they'd be coordinated-but-not-matched and I really love the effect. They're also cotton and really nice to hold. It's funny, I was thinking of binding this fic when I found the fabric while digging through the Joann's remnant bin, and as soon as I saw it this fic not only came to mind but moved up to the top of the to-bind list. It was fate, clearly.

More photos under the cut!

Both spines and a top view. That's orange HTV for the titles. This it the first time I've worked with matte HTV (I usually use metallic or foil) and I was surprised at how much thinner it is, and how easy it was to stick. And I like the color inverse here in counterpoint to the front cover. The top view shows off the handmade endbands and bookmark, and also the rounding job. I'm still working on rounded spines, and the turn-in over the spine didn't come out as smooth as I'd have liked, but I think it's a good result. The ribbon bookmark was supposed to be blue to match the endbands, but every blue ribbon I could find clashed horribly with the cover so it's this nice leafy sage green. Which actually works really well with...

The endpapers! I got these as Joann's too. All four are cut from the same print, but I shifted and rotated them when I trimmed them so the patterns wouldn't all be in the same place. I had desperately wanted this other paper I found on Etsy with little vinyl records all over it, but the pieces weren't the right shape and I'd have had to ship them from overseas ($$), but I like the mood these ones set. And they're thick and nicely textured and look awesome with the cover, so really I think things worked out very well.

Couple of pics of the interior. I kept it fairly simple but I feel like it fits the story.

The scene break line is orange, to match the covers. I usually use gray but wanted something more fun. I recently bought some off-white paper that I used for most of my binderary projects this year because I've heard it's easier on the eyes, and it is, but I used the older bright white for this so the color contrast would be sharper. No complaints; I think it looks amazing. The second image above is the appendix I put together for the volume. Being so centered in the music industry, this fic has a really long playlist that the author put together with their preferred recordings. It's linked in the story and I did include the link text in the book, but I had my mind on preservation and the challenges of digital archiving while I was making this one, so I also took all the title/artist/album info and just listed it here. It was too much to do all by hand, so I learned how to export a Spotify playlist into an Excel doc, then moved that into the Word doc to print. A lot of steps, but not nearly as hard as I'd thought, and way less tedious.

I have to say this book is aesthetically really different than all my previous ones. I ran into so many design hurdles but I honestly couldn't be more pleased with the end result. I'll have to push my comfort zone like this more often, I guess.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #it's disco so it needed to be appropriately funky #and i think i nailed it actually #look at them they're awesome

[pianokantzart]

When I was younger the first exposure I have ever had to anything Mario related was the 1993 Super Mario Bros. Movie. I don't know why, my family is more of a movie family than a gaming family, especially back then. So I grew up thinking that there was an age difference between the two characters, mainly because they don't look too much alike as well.

And then in the year of 2023, low and behold, I find out that they're twins. It shook me to my core. But them being twins that aren't Identical makes it even better.

I'll admit, I never really got really invested in the Mario characters until the new movie came out and the bromance hooked its claws into my brain. Until then I was vaguely aware that Mario and Luigi were twins... but it really didn't matter to me? I just liked the colorful worlds of Super Mario Galaxy 1 & 2 and decimating my siblings in Mario Kart. As a kid, my siblings and I shared a wii, so aside from Super Paper Mario I never really got to see any characterization like they had on the DS Mario and Luigi games. I just enjoyed the gameplay.

Now that I'm actually deep into the fandom and the lore, I gotta admit my personal favorite interpretation is that of the slight age gap, like in the Super Mario Brothers Super Show.

But I digress... having watched the 1993 movie, I won't deny I developed a bit of a soft spot for the 15+ year age gap too.

Luigi having never known anyone in his family besides Mario? Mario raising his little brother the best he can despite being an impoverished blue collar worker? Them being the only family they have left in the world? The way Luigi's an impulsive young man and Mario– despite being a bit rough around the edges– is a kindly, protective father figure with a heart of gold? The wingmanning? The quips back and forth?

Like, dang dude, I know that the production was a nightmare and the film has little to do with the world the videogames created, but the cool grungy aesthetic and the 10/10 familial relationship really carried the movie. I wouldn't mind a sequel just to see more of that version of the Mario Luigi dynamic.

#mario movie #mario movie 1993 #super Mario Brothers #Mario #Luigi #pardon me for rambling a bit #I still prefer the twins over the large age gap BUT as an AU it has a special place in my heart #'two run-of-the-mill dudes thrown against impossible odds #who succeed thanks to their strong sense of morality and love for each other' is the theme that's most important to me

[railingsofsorrow]

Colorless Mountains

[BAU team x reader]

request: “Hello, hope you're having a good day/night. I was wondering if I could request BAU Team x GN reader who has Marie Antoinette syndrome?

[...] maybe reader has a dark past and that's when it first started but what if it got worst after being kidnapped and tortured by an unsub?”

A/N: based on some research, I'm using the assumption that the marie antoniette syndrome is not permanent, meaning that reader suffered from hair-whitening after something traumatic that happened and then her hair became colored again. just keep that in mind so it doesn't get confusing, okay? that's all. thank you for the request and good reading!

summary: during a case in New York, you come in contact with an unsub whose backstory hits too close to home.

pairing: platonic!BAU team x gn!reader

w.c: 6.2K

warnings/content: case related violence; explicit discussions of past trauma; mentions of sexual abuse and PTSD and being taken advantage of; the alternation in the use of pronouns to refer to the unknown subject is intended (hate that they only use He to refer to a suspect, completely ruling out women, who are just as capable of committing crimes); mention of scars and substance abuse; hurt/comfort; reader is mean at some point; recovery is not a linear path; smoking; platonic relationships are the main focus; grammar mistakes probably; for the love of god do not take!! the profile!! seriously!! I am not an expert; nerds geeking about scouting knots; friendly banter.

navi

masterpost

requested by @xweirdo101x

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ some memories never

leave your bones.

like salt in the sea; they

become part of you

— and you carry them. ❞

[ paper wings ]

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION — BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS UNIT DEPARTMENT

Getting back to work after a traumatic event can be unnerving.

It's actually the hardest part of a recovery process; turning back on your fears — or rather facing them face to face without running to hide in a corner straight away.

You've done that a few times in your life. Running away, hiding. Although, back then, you didn't have anyone to catch you if you were falling. So why shouldn't you hide? Why shouldn't you run? It wouldn't have made a difference. Leaving the past behind is the best alternative you've got. It's not cowardice, it is a matter of protection.

That's what it was for you, anyway.

The scars don't disappear when you leave the place that broke you, they decorate your arms and scrape the skin that once was clean. They stay as a reminder. And looking yourself in the mirror becomes a rare occurrence because you fear what you're going to see is merely a shattered reflection. Which is true.

In your case — besides the white lines across your body — there is your hair.

The Marie Antoinette Syndrome is not very well-known. Despite your skepticism, you couldn't simply deny the fact that it was very much real after your hair turned sheer white overnight when you were seventeen.

The syndrome is caused by high levels of emotional stress on one's body. Surprisingly, age is not a determining factor in this case, people of all ages can be affected by this hair-whitening process.

You spent four days in the hospital, three of those had doctors coming in and out of your room, doing blood tests, repetitive questions, throwing you into MRI's and whatnot so they could attempt to figure out why your hair lost all its color.

Attempt failed. If they had done some reading, maybe, they could have spared you from being poked and prodded and exposed so much. It was a psychiatrist who cracked your case. She gave you one of many explanations, of course, and that's when you remembered reading about the condition but never giving it much thought — until it happened to you.

The Marie Antoinette syndrome, also knowns as Canities Subita, was named after Queen Marie Antoinette. According to historical facts — which Spencer rambled on and on about when you first entered the BAU — the queen's natural hair turned white the night before her execution in 1793. She was only 35 years old.

What happens is that the amount of hardships and distress a person goes through can cause the production of melanin in the color of one's hair to be compromised.

Nine years ago, in the first night you spent on the hospital after the worst day of your life, your hair had lost all the darkness it always carried. Besides the innocence that was striped from you that night, every time you looked in the mirror you saw a stranger staring back. A ghost, if you will.

Nothing had been the same.

It's a common thing to happen to a human being: you never believe something awful is going to happen to you, until it does.

And then, you end up in the hospital again. Usual hair color gone and a new trauma to add to the list. That's the nicest way to put it.

“I told you I am fine.”

You said to Penelope for the third time that morning. She had cornered you as you poured coffee in your mug in the kitchenette area.

“You weren't supposed to be back yet,” she hissed, poking your shoulder. “Hotch gave you a week off. More if needed, may I add — don't look at me like that, yes, I overheard.” She interrupts before you even said anything. “Why are you back after three days?” You ignore the way her voice softens at the last part, admitting the tone of pity. You didn't need anyone pitying you, especially people from your team.

“I'm fine,” you shrug, lifting the mug to your lips. “My leg is perfect, I'm sleeping like a princess and I'm ready to work.” You're also very good at lying but that was not your best act.

Before the blonde could call you out on your bullshit, her phone chimes with a text.

“We have a case.”

Saved by the bell.

The surprised looks you receive when you enter the conference room are enough to increase your annoyance, but you mask it. It's fine, that's expected. You'd be surprised if any of them had returned to work three days after being abducted. That's not enough time to recover, but you couldn't stay at home with the presence of intrusive thoughts looming over your brain.

You needed to do something other than laying down in fetal position on your bedroom. Anything to make your mind occupied, and working helps with that.

“Three bodies were found in Forest Park, New York. Lewis Jenkins, Mason Reeves and Caleb Marshall. And before you ask, crime fighters, yes, they did have a connection. All three went to the same university, St. John's. They even attended most of their classes together and formed a fraternity house of some sorts.” Garcia couldn't stop her disgusted expression. “I honestly think these should be extinguished.”

“Fraternity houses?” Derek chuckled softly, clicking on another page of the casefile on the tablet. “They are not that bad, sweets.”

“I can say that sorority houses can be a nightmare,” Emily mumbles under her breath. “Were all of them found in that same position? And tied up?”

“Yes,” Penelope zooms in on one of the photos that displayed one of the men's bodies with his arms tied up behind their back, as well as their feet, with a rope. “However, Lewis Jenkins...” the slide switched to a body with a slight difference in the M.O. The man's hands were tied up in front of his body and his legs were untied unlike the other two.

“What if he was the first victim?” JJ chimes in.

Rossi nods, “Jenkins could have been a trial run and then he evolved.”

“The other two clearly have a pattern.” Emily says. “Both are positioned in the same way with almost the same lacerations.”

“They used the double overhand knot.”

Spencer's head snaps into your direction. “I was about to say that.”

You clear your throat, noticing every pair of eyes fall on you. “That's one of the knots you learn when you're in scout camp. They have categories like boating and climbing...” You examine the picture more carefully, studying the threading with familiarity. At least those three summers you were forced to be on scout camp were worth something now. “The double overhand knot can be used on both situations.”

“It's also a stopper knot,” Spencer's voiced as his eyebrows knit together in mild confusion. “That's an... interesting choice.” You stare at him with amusement after hearing the slight judgy tone he let slip. He clearly did not approve the use of such knot.

When Hotch checks his wristwatch, you know it's time to head out. The discussion is interrupted and continued on the jet as you flew to New York.

QUEENS, NYC — FOREST PARK

As you arrive at the disposal site, that you, Derek and JJ were responsible to check, the heat immediately made you wish you had bring a bottle of water. When you saw the warning about a heatwave you didn't expect it to be that bad.

“This is just a dump site.” JJ observes the surroundings as the CSI professionals collected physical evidence. You quietly analyze the location of each body while pulling your strands up into a bun so your hair would stop sticking to your neck.

“The unsub may come out here to relive his work.”

“They obviously has a vehicle, most likely a truck or a van.” You agreed with Derek, not seeing any possibility of the crime actually happening there. Not the entire thing, at least.

JJ brushes a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, “Still...” she drawls, “there are no tire marks close by. And the road is at least thirteen thousand feet far from here.”

“Maybe he had help?” Derek seems doubtful of his opinion.

“Or we could be close to where they keep the victims hostage.”

“Either that or there's something significant to him about this place. But what?”

Both JJ and Derek share hums, exhibiting they were on-board with your idea.

INTERROGATION ROOM 3 — 112th POLICE PRECINCT, NYC

Four out of the seven FBI agents watched the interrogation happen through the one-way mirror. Inside the room, Spencer and JJ conducted the interview side by side as the witness, Felicity Lance, sat in front of them. Her arms folded across her chest as she stared holes at the grey table.

She was nervous, that much was clear. What was left for you to know was the reason for her uneasiness.

Last night, Garcia gave you some interesting information on a few of St. John's students.

“So she was the last person to see Mason alive?” Emily asked.

Garcia hummed in agreement. Then a gasp echoed through the audio. “You won't believe what I just found.”

“I would be great if you shared, baby girl.”

“Okay, so remember that I told you all three belonged to the same crowd in college?” A collective yes echoed through the room. “Guess what: Caleb Marshall's brother, Riley Marshall, and Patrick Moore were also part of that disgusting crew. And why disgusting, you may ask? Because both faced harassment charges filed by Riley's ex-girlfriend, Felicity Lance.”

Thus, the witness you were currently questioning right now wasn't only the last person to see one of the victims, but also someone who had motive to hurt Lewis, Caleb and Mason. After building up the profile, she was also a suspect.

“You keep saying he but what if it's a woman?” You muttered with annoyance at their choice of words.

Derek had given you a skeptical look. “She'd have to have a lot of strength to carry out all of this herself.”

“She doesn't necessarily has to be working alone.” Emily catches your point. “What if her best friend is just as mad as she is by Riley Marshall and his friends that they decided to take justice into their own hands?”

You had stopped focusing on the interview half an hour ago. The main reason was the incessant pounding in your head that got in the way of your thinking. You didn't have the best sleep last night, tossing and turning the entire time, besides your leg, where you had been shot four days ago, was giving you trouble.

You missed the time when painkillers used to be magical. Ever since you started working in the BAU no amount of pills would diminish your migraines.

“She kept the same story she told the police,” JJ informs as they strode back into the room you were gathered in.

“She's consistent.” Spencer adds, walking forward. “But any time we mention Sylvia she gets defensive. It could be a coping mechanism for her death.”

Leaning back on the wall, you press your thumb against your forehead, taking a deep breath in for two seconds and exhaling for three.

“Does the last name Marshall carry any relevance in New York?” You blurt out, forcing the discussion in the room to halt immediately.

Deputy Ray is the one who speaks up, “Gary Marshall.” He pauses. And you don't need to have your eye on him to realize the way he's cautious about his next words. “He's a politician that has a strong influence in the city. Also part of the city council.”

You let out a scoff and the room becomes silent. Of course he's part of the city council. This is how the charges were dropped. Why wouldn't Gary Marshall fix his son's problems if he has money to spare? And you have the assumption that this wasn't Felicity's idea.

You know you should avoid reacting like this, but your body seems to be having a mind of its own and your mood is getting sour by the minute. You just really needed to lay down.

The voices again felt like far away waves in your ears and you suspect part of the dizziness in your vision is due to the lack of water in your system. There's a heatwave happening and when was the last time you hydrated yourself?

Derek's voice nagging you to drink water echoes through your mind. Okay, you would admit that he was right after you followed your gut.

“Hotch, can I try something?” You prompt, eyes glued to Felicity's fidgety frame.

You realize that the Deputy was gone and the only ones left in the room are you, Derek and your boss. The rest was probably in the other interrogation room to question Riley and Patrick.

Your eyes snap to him. Stern gaze studying you thoroughly, scrutinizing every twitch he could find in your expression. He's caught your attention drifting somewhere else. You bet he even knew where your mind wandered a minute ago, you just hoped he didn't catch the wave in your step.

“Are you alright, Y/L/N?”

Derek was about to ask the exact same question when you cut him off.

“Yes. Can I try something with her?” You bring back the focus on the real matter. You had lies to dig around here, lives at stake, certainly your well being wasn't more important than that in the moment?

Hotch seems to internally struggle but he settled for accepting your request. You ignore the look of disbelief Derek offers him before you enter the interrogation room, where Felicity is.

You introduce yourself and offer her some water. She looks hesitant but she takes a sip of the plastic cup.

Felicity has kind eyes — it's the first thing you observe when you enter the room. Her make-up is smudged and that's not the only thing that reveals she has been crying, another indication of that are the bloodshot eyes that you weren't able to see through the one-way mirror.

“So you think Felicity Lance and Sylvia Kosorog did this?”

“I think it's a way too personal and specific M.O to be ruled out.” You sigh.

“The bodies didn't have any sign of sexual assault, did they?” You ask Spencer and Rossi, who were responsible to check the coroner's reports.

“No,” Spencer said. “And the ligature marks were made post mortem. However, when the garrote was used, they were still alive.”

The wall between the two of you bothered you. But now you could analyse from the tone of her voice to every movement she makes without mistaking it for your declining senses. The fact that you were no longer standing helped on stabilizing your breathing for the moment. You feel fine.

“Am I a suspect?” Felicity gulps down the water fast. “Is that why you haven't let me go yet? Cause I was in my dormroom the entire night Caleb was killed.”

You brows raise in faux surprise. “Oh, no. Don't worry, this is just protocol. We don't think you lied in your statement.”

Her shoulders slump as she leans back, visibly relieved.

“I do have something that made me curious though,” you pull up the file that had been laying on your lap ever since you sat down. Felicity's eyes narrow at the manila folder. “was it you that filed a harassment charge against Caleb two years ago?”

She looked back up at you, frowning. “Caleb? No. I didn't file anything against him though he certainly deserved it.”

Tilting your head, your eyes scan over Felicity's statement in front of you. The silence was too much for her as you expect it would be, so she gave you the starting point you needed.

“You took what back?” You ask, folding your arms. “The charges? The ones that claimed he sexually harassed you along with Patrick Moore?”

“I used to date Riley Marshall. He's, uh, he's one of the last people that saw Caleb alive. They're friends so I'm sure he'll be here anytime now too...” She was picking at her cuticles. “We had a fight, I was mad and I wanted to get back at him. That's why I took it back.”

“He didn't do it.” You watch the clench in her jaw and how she struggle to swallow the lie she is about to say. It sounds rehearsed as if she has been repeating that out loud for a long time. “I told you, I was mad and I wanted to—”

“—get back at him. Yes, you mentioned that.” You push the crime photos towards her. It took a whole minute for Felicity to absorb what are in those images and even when her eyebrow twitches, her expression remains almost emotionless. Not looking away. “Have you seen these before?” You know she has. JJ and Reid had brought it up when they were interviewing her. She had the exact same reaction. There is hatred underneath that mask she worked hard to keep impassive. It was hard to remain numb over crime scene pictures, or feel something other than disgust for the people who have hurt you. Physically or emotionally. You could say that for sure.

Felicity gives you an unimpressed look. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Well, I mean. If someone that hurt me had ended up like that... I wouldn't be sad either.”

“He deserved it.”

You give her a careful look, she pushes all of the pictures back to you harshly.

“Felicity, why do you keep saying that? You dropped the charges, right? I don't see any reason why boys like that would deserve such an awful death.”

She scoff, eyes glazing with fury. Bingo. “Boys like that. Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that? How brilliant they are. How lucky I was to be dating Riley Marshall – He is not the prince charming people claim he is! None of them are. You think my charges were dropped out of nowhere? How many girls do you think didn't do the same thing just so they could have a peace of mind? Sylvia got the worst of it!”

“Sylvia, your best friend?” You ask, offering some tissues. You have dropped the act now. There was no point in playing devil's advocate now that you got what you wanted.

Spencer tapped his pen against his knuckles. “Felicity didn't express any other emotion beside forced indifference while seeing the crime scene photos.” He paused. “Beneath the mask there was anger. More than that, rage.”

“As if she wanted to be relieved but their death brought only the despair of injustice.” You completed his train of thought.

She was seventeen. First year in college with the major that she chose and work her ass of for. Then, in a random night five assholes ruin her life because they simply wanted to have fun. Death is the least they could suffer. Hell, it's too easy. How can people escape unscathed as they destroy you?

Long story short, your theory was right. Sylvia Kosorog was responsible for the murders and Felicity Lance knew about it, but she was not involved in Sylvia's plan, which consisted on murdering Riley Marshall, the man who had raped her during a party back in her first year of college, and the rest of his friends and brother, Mason Reeves, Patrick Moore and Caleb Marshall, who had covered for him and lied when she tried to get the justice he needed.

Felicity nods, sniffling. “She... She was never the same after what happened.”

And well, Gary Marshall tried paying her off as well as he did with Felicity Lance.

Lewis Jenkins was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Sylvia never planned on hurting him because he was not involved, although he was friends with Riley's crew.

“We're going to follow a lead,” JJ approaches you as she readjusted her bulletproof vest. Her meticulous gaze laid heavily upon you and you had a suspicion it was about the cigarette dangling from your lips.

You acknowledge her with a nod, “I know, I was in the room when Garcia found the location.” And when Hotch ordered me to stay back.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” You slowly let out the smoke, turning to her.

JJ sighs, her frustration is very much explicit but that doesn't phase you.

“You're compartmentalizing.” She firmly stated, diverting her attention from your cigarette to you. “Ever since you came back, it's like you're not here. Your mind is always elsewhere—”

“I'm doing my job just like you are, JJ.” You snap, throwing the cigarette in the nearby trash can. She had hit a nerve.

“I'm not talking about your professional skills. But this is not how you heal, you avoid talking about it all together and...” Her hands clasp on both of your shoulders, bringing you closer. “I'm worried. You're not being you, Y/N.”

“What is there to talk about?” You step out of her reach, earning a hurtful look. “I was kept hostage and tortured for a day and a half, almost killed a man, I can't take off this fucking sweater or else all of the barely healed wounds on my arms will be on display and just as I was getting used to the normal color of my hair, this happens.” You pulled some of your white strands irritably. “Is that what you need me to say? Do you need be to scream it from the rooftops, JJ?”

And I can't get over my past. It follows me and it buries me beneath the earth of my sorrows. I can't crawl out of that endless mountain.

She's taken aback by your response, you can tell when she almost flinches at your jab.

“And who are you to tell me I'm compartmentalizing?” You run a hand through your face as a humourless laugh escapes you. “You were back to work not even two days after being held captive and tortured as well. You couldn't stop looking over your shoulder for more than ten minutes and your trust on anyone was definitely compromised—not that you trusted people completely before either. Don't point my flaws at me when you have no idea how to deal with your own issues too, Jennifer.”

That was a low blow and you're plenty aware of that. But you are tired of your friends trying to fix your problems. You are an adult and you've been dealing with the same things your whole life, by yourself, it is none of their concern.

MOTEL — ROOM 72, NYC

“Okay,” she says shortly, shoulders tense. “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.” She walks away when Hotch announces they are leaving.

The jet wouldn't be ready until the morning, so you were stuck in New York for one more night. Granting you one sleepless night in an itchy mattress of an old motel room. If you were at home, at least you could stare at your blue ceiling.

The case didn't end well.

They were able to find Sylvia, who had Riley Marshall as hostage. He was her endgame, had been all along. Riley Marshall was the one who took advantage of her as she was drunk. He was the one who spiked her drink as all of his friends watched the scene happened like it was a TV show on display.

Riley lured Sylvia out to the beach, tied up her arms and legs with a rope and raped her. A couple of pictures from the incident were found in his dorm room and he was finally arrested. Along with Patrick Moore. Nothing much Gary Marshall could accomplish with his strong influence now. Thankfully.

Sylvia killed herself.

You kept wondering that if you had been there, you could've talk her out of it. But ever since the beginning, her mind was set. Still, the what if's haunt you.

They have haunted you for nine years. You are aware you can't go back in time and make different choices; the only choices that matter are the ones you make in the present. But what if you had accepted your friend invitation to go to the party instead of choosing to stay reading in your college bedroom? What if you had chose to lock your room instead of leaving it unlocked for your roommate? What if you hadn't fallen asleep so quick? What if you hadn't trust him enough to let him come to your room as he pleased in the middle of the night? What if you hadn't accepted that joint?

What if...

From the moment you left your apartment, three days ago, your skin had been on fire, your brain replaying memories you didn't want to relive ever again. That night. That person who you used to call your best friend. The unsub who burned scars into your arm a few days back.

Why can't your brain repress those things as it did to childhood? Why can't it feel like a fuzzy flashback which you wonder if it is true or if you made it up? Those memories, you know they happened. You know for a fact because you can feel them everywhere.

Maybe getting back to work right away wasn't the best option. But deep down, you chose gruesome pictures and murder facts over the horrifying silence of your apartment for a reason you didn't want to admit.

Recovery is hard. But does it ever get easier?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You flinch at the sudden disruption of silence in the room. Your breath hitches before Derek's frame cleared up for you.

“Sorry,” he says softly, inching closer to sit at the edge of his bed. The old wood creaking loudly. Right, you were divided into pairs because of the budget. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's fine, I just didn't even remember we would share a room.” Your stance relaxes bit by bit. It's been a while since your trust issues bothered on sharing a bedroom with another person. Thanks to therapy. You needed to get back to that.

You can feel his stare burning on your cheek and you request him to spit it out.

“You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

Annoyance wash over you. “Did JJ put you up to this?”

Derek furrows his eyebrows, “No?” He scans you for a brief second then sighed. “I just want you to know that you can. If you want.”

“I would appreciate if you all just stop babying me.”

“We're not babying you and you know that.”

“Feels a lot like it,” you say through gritted-teeth, searching for your nightwear.

Derek leans back on the headboard, eyes slipping shut. “I'll be here when you stop being a brat about it.” He let out in a whisper, a smile curling at the edge of his mouth as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

He probably does. He most certainly does.

Derek Morgan is the person who you are the closest to in the team. Penelope coming right after him.

At first, you had warmed up to Spencer due to you being close in age, though your interests weren't that similar. Derek had this whole flirty persona going on that intimidated you at first but you quickly became attached to each other. He understood your silence and you understood his. He didn't force you to speak up, he just reminded you that he was there, like tonight.

Sometimes, it is nice to have that reminder.

“I can't stop thinking that that could have been me.”

You don't meet his gaze, knowing for a fact he is listening because he had only one of his headphones on before you got into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“It's not you,” the bed creaks under his shifting. “It will never be you.”

When you finally turn your attention to him, he's patiently waiting for you to carry on with a reassuring smile.

“Y/N, you're not a bad person.”

“It could have been.” You push, pulling your knees to your chest. It's such a vulnerable topic; your past. It never gets easier talking about it. It's never something you cherish in remembering. “There was a point in my life were all I could think of was revenge. Even if he went to jail. Even if he was rotting in there. I wanted him to suffer the same way that I suffered. But it still wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough.”

“I wanted to kill him.”

“Well, when you told me what happened, I wanted to kill him too.” Your best friend admits, causing your brows to shot up. He offers you a look that silently asks what? “And let me tell you something,” he pauses, completely taking off his headphones and moving to a sitting position. “If I had found the bastard, I would've ended him right there.”

Your lips twitch slightly, “You would've kicked a door in his face?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He points at you as you laugh, a grin stretching up on his face. “Keep giggling, Snow White. But I'm not joking around.”

You turn your body on the side, bringing the comforter to your torso. You take a long breath before speaking. “You know, what happened that night... What he did, doesn't bother me as much as what I could have done.” And you keep going, interrupting his protest. “I could have fought harder. I could have screamed louder. I could have— I could have— kicked or grabbed the pocket knife in my bag that was so close... but I didn't. I didn't do any of that. I couldn't move, Derek. I was— I was useless. When I look in the mirror, all I remember is how I woke up in the next morning.” The white in my strands make sure of that. It takes me back to the worst day of my life every time.

“You were seventeen, Y/N.” You shook your head, groaning. He wasn't having any of that though. “You're telling me you should have been prepared for something terrible to happen to you? For someone you trust your life with to just break you into pieces?”

“I was a coward,” you say shakily.

“Don't you ever say that. Hey, look at me. Y/N,” he calls out sternly. When you glance up at him, he's giving you a serious look. “Don't ever say that again. You are one of the bravest people I have met. And despite of everything you went through, you are nothing but kind and loveable. If you tell me that's cowardice, then I'm sorry but you're very wrong.”

“What happened that night,” he adds with caution, “it was not your fault. The only person to blame is him and him only, do you hear me? And he will rot in jail because of that. He doesn't deserve anything but that.”

His words sit in your head for a while and he allows you to bask in the comforting quietness.

“Thank you.” You whisper to the darkness after you both have turned your bedside lamp off. “You're one of the bravest people I've met too.”

“No need to thank me, Snow White.” You can hear his smile. He throws you one of his pillows and you shriek, dumbfounded. “And you're beautiful. Colorless hair or not.”

You stay quiet, smiling softly.

“Call me Snow White one more time and I'll rip the hair you don't have in your head off.” You say after a while and the sound of his chuckles is the last thing you hear before you fall into a deep slumber.

That's the first time in a long time that you sleep through the whole night.

BAU PRIVATE JET

JJ is pouring coffee in seven mugs when you approach her. You can't help thinking she should throw one of those mug at you, it's what you deserve.

“Need help with that?”

Her smile is tight and she doesn't look at you.

“That's okay, I got this.”

You bite your cheek, “JJ.” She halts as she's grabbing the tray, you take that as your cue to continue. “I'm sorry for the way I treated you, it wasn't fair. You were just trying to help and I was too in over my head to notice it. I am truly sorry.”

You feel as if you can finally breathe when your friend looks at you. “I get it, it's... it's okay. I shouldn't have pushed you to talk about it either.”

“What I said, it was way out of line.” You insist. “You're my friend and it wasn't right to throw that at your face. I know how much you struggled getting back to work, I— I was just angry. Not at you, at myself.”

JJ nods understandingly, a smile curving the corners of her mouth. “I know, Y/N. And I get it, really. If anything, I should apologize too, it wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“I'll forgive you if you forgive me.” You give her a cheeky smile that she replies with an eye roll and promptly orders you to take everyone's coffee to them. That's when you're sure the two of you are okay.

You feel a soft squeeze in your shoulder, when you turn around you see Aaron walking past you to sit down in his seat beside Rossi. Earlier this morning, he had praised the way you conducted the interview with Felicity Lance. Then, proceeded to lecture you about your interrupted recovery process while giving a pointed look at your still unhealed leg.

You have the next few days off. And Penelope is already sending never-ending lists of options to make you busy. Your phone is blowing up.

Your head snaps up mid-typing as you feel eyes glued to you. Spencer is leaning on his hand, head tilted to the side as he lazily blinks up at you and downwards. Confused, you follow his gaze and immediately understood what he meant.

The chess board stared at you and a black piece had already moved forward.

“You know,” you turn your phone off after sending a quick reply to Penelope. “it's not fair. You already had a wide angle of the game.”

Spencer shrugged, unbothered. “You took too long to make your move.”

“I need a verbal warning, Reid. Surprisingly, I still can't use telepathy.”

“Telepathy is overestimated. The most unique and not very well-known supernatural ability is chi manipulation.” You watched amusedly as he happily gesticulates his hands to ramble about the topic. “It consists of the fortification of the mind, body and soul in order to acquire bodily functions like self-healing, pain resistance and superhuman strength. This kind of ability actually gained more recognition in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, through Doctor Strange's character.”

You gaped at him, letting the chess piece slip from your hand. “You watched the film!”

He paused, lowering his hands to his lap. “You recommended it.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Yeah, but it's Marvel. I didn't thought you'd actually watch it. What did you think? Who did you love? Who did you hate?”

“And... There we go.” Rossi mumbles a few seats back with a soft sigh.

Emily snickers. Her eyes were shut but she could hear the conversation in the seat beside hers. She stole a look at yours and Spencer's animated comments and hand gestures.

“Kids, hush!” Emily exclaims, throwing a paper ball at them. She hit Spencer's forehead and a laugh bubbles out of her. Ouch.

Their paper ball rustle made everyone let out a collective groan as you watch everything silently, your face slowly breaking into a grin.

Recovery is hard. But you haven't been the only one that went through it. And if you have these people by your side, your team, you believe you can do anything.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ I can't abandon the person

I used to be,

so I carry her. ❞

[ unknown ]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources: [1] [2]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: sorry for taking so long to post, I hope it was worth it <3

#criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team x reader #reader insert #requested #bau team x gn!reader

[vynnytypesstuff]

Hello! Im here for a request if you dont mind, i loved the platonic stuff you wrote for lmk and wanted to request a platonic drabble with Sun Wukong and Macaque. If you don’t do that then can i get some headcanons? Enjoy your vacation!!

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Platonic Drabbles for Sun Wukong and Macaque

Ngl I had fun writing this request. I think I favor writing platonic stuff lmao

Thanks for your patience and here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

(Word Count: 430)

[Name] yawned, stretching their arms outwards as they laid on their back against the firm mattress of Wukong's couch. With the long week they've had to deal with, a lazy Sunday was the exact crowning jewel they needed to kick back and unwind, and what better way to spend them than with one of your closest friends?

Resisting the urge to let their exhaustion coax them into slumber, [Name] turned over onto their side, curious to see what Wukong had been up to during the time they had been staring at the ceiling. The Monkey King had been seated on the floor, surprisingly too focused on whatever task he was trying to complete to respond to [Name]'s movements. Upon closer inspection, in front of him was a piece of paper with art supplies scattered around him.

[Name] blinked, "since when do you draw?"

That seemed to be enough to grab Wukong's attention. "Uh, since always? Didn't I tell you this before?"

"Yeah, but… I kind of figured you were bluffing."

Wukong looked at them with false offense, sputtering in exaggeration, as if he were actually upset by that comment. "Wha- I'm shocked! Offended, even! I have my hidden talents you know. See for yourself!"

Reluctantly, [Name] rolled off the couch to get a look at Wukong's supposed masterpiece. A lingering part of them still expected to see a humorous assortment of scribbles, yet they were completely blown away once they witnessed his scarily realistic and accurate depiction of Flower Fruit Mountain, fully sketched down to it's finest details. It even had Wukong's little monkeys companions, who's sketched counterparts were scurrying around the mountain.

"How is your work not on display in a museum?!" [Name] exclaimed questioningly. They felt a little guilty about underestimating Wukong's artistic talents. They just weren't expecting him to be insanely good.

"Stage fright, or something," Wukong nonchalantly shrugged.

"Or maybe being the Monkey King is just a cover for your true identity as an artist," They mused. "I can't believe you've had a secret identity all this time and you didn't tell me."

He laughed, deciding to play along with the joke. "Caught me red-handed! And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

Their exchange of friendly banter went on for quite some time before [Name] finally decided to abandon their original Sunday plans of having an intense ceiling-staring session, choosing to watch Wukong color his work before grabbing a piece of paper for themself and joining him in his makeshift "art studio." Overall, it was the perfect close to a weekend of relaxation.

Macaque

(Word Count: 446)

"'Come hiking with me' you said. 'It'll be worth it' you said," a muttered complaint spilled into the air, courtesy of [Name]. Macaque and [Name] had been hiking the same mountain for a little over an hour. The rugged terrain combined with the narrow twists and turns of the trail wasn't helping with [Name]'s growing exhaustion. "It feels like we've been at this for ages! How much further until we're there?"

Macaque's voice rumbled in a soft, fond chuckle, clearly finding amusement in his friend's whining. "Relax, we're almost there. Besides, I meant what I said. You'll be thanking me once we've reached the top. Would I lie to you?"

[Name] opened their mouth to respond, but Macaque beat them to the punch with a quick "don't answer that."

Thankfully, Macaque had been truthful. A mere ten minutes after that small exchange, they had finally reached their final destination. It was the height of the Spring season, so despite the gentle chill of the flowing breeze hitting their skin, the weather was warm and comfortable. The view itself was breathtaking. The natural assortment of flora below them shone vibrantly against the sunlight, resembling the picturesque nature of a meticulously painted landscape.

The awed look on [Name]'s face didn't escape Macaque's gaze. "Told you it would be worth it." He grinned, finding a spot near the mountain's edge to sit down. "Honestly, even I forgot how beautiful the view was from up here."

"You haven't been here recently?"

Macaque shook his head in answer. "I used to come up here all the time with an old friend, so it just brings up a lot of memories, you know?" Perhaps [Name] was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a hint of sadness in his voice. They chose not to question it, instead letting him continue. "I wasn't sure how I'd feel about coming up here again."

'It's part of the reason I invited you,' a sudden thought that went unspoken. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes.

[Name] walked over to where he was sat and settled next to him. They didn't speak after that, instead choosing to take in the view in comfortable silence. There was nothing awkward about it. Believe it or not, Macaque wasn't always the most talkative, so having someone he could sit with in silence was a pleasant change of pace.

Time passed, with [Name] being the one to break the silence. "Thanks for inviting me, this was actually pretty nice."

"Glad you like it. Does that mean you'll stop bugging me by asking 'are we there yet' every time we climb up here?"

"Don't count on it."

#lego monkie kid #lmk #platonic x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #platonic drabble #askblog #askbox is open #vynnytypesstuff

[ghoulangerlee]

rain and aether thing somewhat takes place after the other one I posted. this one is just biting? a lot of biting and hints that rain ghoul is making his rounds among the others and partaking in freaky sex as well

i will eventually get to writing the actual sex between these two and not just rain being a smug asshole and flashing his bitey teeth at aether

im not too happy with it and it was going to be something totally different but it grew into aether thirsting after rain's freaky teeth

minor cw for the end where it's alluded to that rain's drinking blood

its not been read over im yeeting this to to public bc if i have it in my drafts any longer im gonna be even more discouraged

-

Rain's teeth are, arguably the most terrifying part of him—next to his eyes and the strange mimic voice he projects into Aether's mind when he wants to be heard.

Two rows of sharp, serrated teeth, the inner row situated just behind the first—even more terrifying when Rain chooses not to glamour (which is all the time usually, unless he's out with the band, and then he uses the barest minimum of glamour—his claws, skin color, his strange inhuman eyes, all hidden; he doesn't dull his senses, he doesn't hide his aura, just physical changes to fit in), he hasn't properly bedded Rain just yet, but he does wonder about the teeth, if Rain's careful with them.

He's of course seen the mouth shaped marks on the others, half formed teeth marks across Dew's throat, or the neat double row on Mountain's inner thigh, bruised and scabbed over—even Copia carried a mark, one that Aether had accidentally seen on his side while he'd been changing.

Each one, similar in a way but also different—two rows of teeth, four neat lines of marks showing that something, or someone had been there.

(Aether tries not to think too hard about teeth catching on too sensitive skin, painful and not at all arousing.)

Not that bedding Rain was the only thing on his mind of course, helping the water ghoul acclimate to life on the surface, giving him a crash course in human ways so Copia didn't inexplicably insult Rain without knowing—etiquette and language (though Rain didn't vocalize), teaching him how to build and hold a proper glamour that couldn't be seen through by just anyone, even pop culture and human food, those were the things that Aether had mostly been concerned about.

The tour was coming up fast and Copia would be summoning another ghoul sooner than later—the faster he had Rain acclimated meant that when the new ghoul was on the surface, Aether wouldn't be in charge of two otherworldly beings.

Rain, by himself, was a handful.

He was absolutely perfect during band practice, sticking by Dew's side and learning the cues from both Copia and Mountain, studious and eager to play. He used his voice more during these moments, his mimicry of a vocalization projected into all of their minds at once so they could all discuss as one.

It was when it was just the two of them that things were...different.

He was intense, always watching Aether with his dark eyes, so dark that he couldn't tell where the pupil ended and the iris began—the dark maybe blue almost black blending into one color.

Of course, Aether knew that from the set of his eyes, the sharpness of his teeth and claws, Rain was a predator, through and through. It wasn't that difficult to figure out, how he'd track movement and his affinity to blood—the one time Copia had accidentally cut himself on the edge of a small stack of paperwork, Aether had seen the way Rain's nostrils flared, his gaze snapping from the book he'd been reading to Copia across the room, muttering to himself as he shoved his sluggishly bleeding finger into his mouth.

The control he held, the way he'd kept his eyes on Copia the whole time until the man had left the room, carrying the stack of papers now safely on a clipboard.

When Aether finally managed to catch Rain's gaze, he had noticed the glazed look in his eyes, the impatience radiating off of him as the book in his lap had been forgotten.

If he had to place a name to the expression on Rain's face, it'd probably be something like ravenous, hungry, a caged animal waiting to pounce.

And when Rain had stood up, closing his book with a firmness, he'd briefly caught Aether's eyes again, a sharp grin on his lips before he'd left the room as well.

While alone, he pondered what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of Rain's gaze—to be the one who caused that reaction in him, to be the one who'd be at Rain's mercy...

He quickly banished the thought and quietly thanked every prince of hell that today had been the one day he'd decided to go without genitalia—the only clue to his tumultuous thoughts being a quick spike in his scent and an uptick in his pulse that he could easily explain away.

And then one day, one day, Rain had cornered him, they weren't much different in height, with Aether being slightly taller than the water ghoul, but something about the squareness of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, the confidence in which he'd rested his hands on Aether's hips, guiding him back against the wall had Aether feeling small.

He shivered, heat immediately pooling between his legs as Rain pressed against him, his body warm and firm as he hooks his fingers into the hem of Rain's shirt, keeping him close.

Aether.

The vocalization is warm and amused, and when Aether glances down at Rain, he's smiling, somewhat fond.

You're the only one who hasn't come to bed with me.

Aether snorts softly, feeling the tension bleed out of him at Rain's words—the phrase so reminiscent of something that Copia would say, "I didn't know you were trying to collect us," he says, feeling Rain shake against him with laughter as the water ghoul noses along his jaw.

I like a full set

Aether feels teeth graze lightly against his skin, the sharp points drawing a full body shudder from him as he grips Rain's shirt tighter.

You think so loudly about me, Rain's voice cuts through his frenzied thoughts, When you look at me, you look like you're contemplating jumping me.

A flush spreads across Aether's cheeks, the pink of it so obvious on his pale, human skin and he's glad that Rain's more occupied with mouthing at his jaw and throat, not focused on his face.

"S'why you have me here now, right?" he asks, tipping his head back against the wall as Rain's mouth continues its way across his throat, "Because I keep lookin' at you."

Rain laughs again and it's very odd, to not hear the laughter, to only feel it where Rain's shaking against him, usually, there's a projection even if the laughter sometimes doesn't come out right.

You're always looking at my mouth, figured it was time I finally took a bite and let you see what all of this is about.

As the words echo in Aether's mind, Rain's teeth bite down, not hard enough to maim but definitely hard enough that Aether feels them sink into his skin, sharp and painful in a way that has Aether pushing up onto his toes as if he's trying to get away from Rain.

He vocalizes something, the pain shooting through his body as hot as molten lava—a hand, Rain's hand, pets against his side, now under his shirt and warm against his skin, petting claw tipped fingers gently over him.

Too much?

Aether goes to respond, to tell him yes, let me go and no please don't stop but before he can, the words die in his throat as Rain pulls his mouth away, soothing his tongue over the bite marks.

Now you match with your pretty fire ghoul

Aether shivers, remembering the teeth marks across Dew's throat, the dopey look on his face whenever he'd leave Rain's room and he feels Rain smile against his skin as if he also knows what Aether's thinking about.

Prey are usually scared of the teeth, not aroused by them.

There's an amused tone to Rain's words and the barest hint of sharp teeth against Aether's earlobe, making the quintessence ghoul shiver again, pulling at Rain's shirt, his hands fisted tightly in the material.

Too much?

It's an out, an offer to step back and regroup, try something else, try again at a later time and if Aether were smart, he'd do that, he'd let them regroup, talk about it with Rain first to make sure no boundaries were being crossed—but Hell below, Aether is tired of thinking things through rationally, of talking things out before diving head first into something.

The others have had a chance with Rain, have tumbled into bed with him multiple times, have the marks to show for it and Aether's just feeling a bit like he can be selfish this once.

"No," he says, untangling his fingers from Rain's shirt, feeling the water ghoul perk up a bit at his words, "Not enough," he offers, sliding his fingers into Rain's hair, guiding him easily to the other side of his neck, "I heal pretty fast," he says, "Within a few hours the mark'll be gone if you're not fastidious enough about it," he tilts his head back against the wall, guiding Rain up into the perfect spot; the stretch of skin just below his ear, something that'll be hard to cover up when he's not wearing his full uniform.

He feels Rain's fingers flex slightly, his nails catching against his skin briefly before he seems to settle down.

There's a pause, a moment where Aether worries he's read the whole situation wrong, but then there's a piercing pain that melts into something that sends molten heat to his core, warming him up from the inside out as his fingers hold a bit too tight in Rain's hair, keeping him exactly where he needs him.

He feels Rain's jaw work against his skin, the loud exhale of air from his nose as he presses Aether harder against the wall, shoving his leg between Aether's, hot and hard and perfect.

#the band ghost fic #aether ghoul #rain ghoul #aetherain #my writing