#lately my consciousness has been all over the place and I do not trust what I say

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Home

Sorry my posts have been a little lacking lately - work has been crazy to say the least and I've been wiped. I know I still have requests to fill, and I'm getting to them, but this was a little idea that wouldn't go away and sometimes we all just need a little fluff.

~*~

“Are you sure you don’t want to cancel?” asks Barb for what must be the tenth time that day.  “We can do another night?”  She’d offered multiple times, knowing how excited Melissa had been for your return that day, but the red head had been keen not to break their little tradition.

Melissa shakes her head as she takes her friend’s coat, hanging it by the door.  “No!  Y/N said she was headed home for a nap and that she’d call later.  I haven’t heard from her since but that’s hardly a surprise.  If she didn’t sleep on the plane she’ll be out for hours.  Besides, you’re here now.”

Placated, Barb begins to head towards the kitchen, only to come to a halt in the doorway to the living room where you are splayed out on the couch in a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized Eagle’s hoody she can only guess is Melissa’s. 

Almost colliding with her friend’s back, Melissa looks around her to see what’s brought her to such an abrupt halt.  “Huh, but she said…“

“That she was heading ‘home’,” says Barb softly, smiling as Melissa looks from her to you, lip wobbling, tears gathering in her eyes.  “I should go,” she decides.  “We can do this another night.”

Melissa shakes her head, wiping quickly at her eyes.  “No.  No.  Why don’t you go and open the wine?”

With a gentle squeeze to her friend’s arm, the older woman heads for the kitchen.

Moving to perch on the edge of the couch, Melissa reaches out to move the hair that has fallen over your face.  She smiles down at your sleeping face.  At how you’d been tired and wanted comfort and had come to her apartment.  She slides her hand to cup your cheek, her thumb stroking across your cheekbone. 

It’s enough to wake you, bringing you slowly to consciousness with a grumble.  You smile sleepily as your eyes take in red hair and realise it’s Melissa’s hand on your cheek.  In the next moment, you’ve sprung up into a sitting position.  “Shit!  Fuck!  I was going to meet you at the school and surprise you.”

She lets out a chuckle at your outburst.  “You did surprise me,” she says softly.  “I didn’t think you’d be here.  You said you were going to head home,” Melissa, starts, hesitating.  “Is that what here is to you?”

You take a moment to appreciate the adorably nervous expression on her face.  “That’s what you are to me,” you admit quietly, shifting until you can curl into her side.  It’s why you’d driven to her apartment, raided her wardrobe for something that smelled of her.  You feel settled and safe when you’re surrounded in her. 

She automatically slips her arm around your waist, her hand resting on your thigh, thumb stroking where your shorts give way to skin.  Taking a deep breath, she takes a moment to process what you’ve just said.  She has more power over you than she ever thought she had.  To be someone’s safe place, their anchor, it’s a lot of trust to have placed in you.  “You should stay here,” she says finally.  “Move in, I mean.”

You turn until you can see her face properly.  She waits for your reply, her eyes darting nervously over your features as she bites her lower lip.  “Really?”

Nodding, a blush creeps across Melissa’s cheeks.  “I liked coming home and you being here.”

The wide smile that pulls at your lips is answer in itself, you’re sure, but you want to say it.  “Then yes!  Yes, if you’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she replies, her voice breathy as tears gather in her eyes. 

Surging forward, you press a sweet kiss to her lips, smiling into the contact.  Hearing the tinkling of glasses in the kitchen, you pull back.

“Barb,” offers Melissa, who is still grinning. 

“Tonight was dinner?” you remember.  The last Friday of every month Melissa always cooks for the other woman.  Barb usually brings wine and dessert.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crash!”

The red head’s smile softens.  “Hardly crashing when you live here,” she says, her voice soft and warm, enjoying the way the words sound.  “Though you might want to go put some pants on.”

You frown, looking down at your sleep shorts. 

“You know I enjoy them,” smirks Melissa.  “But in Barb’s world, they don’t quite count as pants.”

You can only laugh, shaking your head.  “Guess I should learn to put some pants on when we have guests?”

“I don’t know,” drawls the red head.  “I don’t want you thinking pants are a must.”  She toys with the hem of the soft fabric barely reaching the top of your thigh.  “I don’t want these little shorts to disappear altogether.”

You can only smirk.  Melissa has said more than once she rather likes your short shorts. 

“Or maybe I do,” she shrugs, aiming for innocence and failing spectacularly. 

You press a kiss to her cheek as you get up.  “After dinner you can do whatever you like with them.  I’ll be back in ten minutes.  I might even drag a brush through my hair.”

“I’ll tell Barb to be honoured you made such an effort,” she grins, watching as you head towards what she realises is now your shared bedroom.  You live here.  With her.  And it feels good.  Moving in with Joe had felt so different.  It had been exciting at the time, the passion between her and Joe often high, but it felt like a fight too.  A fight she felt never ended until she lost. 

It’s different with you.  It always has been.  The passion is there, yes, but in a different way.  It doesn’t feel like a pot ready to bubble over at any moment.  It’s always there, bubbling away, an undercurrent to your relationship.  A relationship that has taken work, but that does work.  Better than Melissa could ever have dared hope.  You’re a piece that just fits.

Pushing herself up from the couch, Melissa heads through to join Barb in the kitchen.  She smiles at the trio of champagne flutes lined up on the counter.

“I figured we might have something to celebrate?”

Melissa’s smile only grows as she raises a glass, her friend meeting it.  “She’s home.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[scarletwinterxx]

the two times he almost did and the one time he did - mark lee imagine

who said I was over my Mark Lee feels?😭 istg I will never get over this guy.

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All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Ever since Mark met you, there's never a day he doesn't think you're the one for him. It scares him sometimes, not because he thinks you might leave him. You've given him assurance over and over again that you're in it for the long run, just like he is. He's scared because he feels like his love for you consumes him too much.

It's an understatement to say you say stay in his mind 24/7 because even in between consciousness and dreams, you're there. You're that one constant in his life.

"Mark, love you okay?" your voice breaking through his haze. He looks over at you with love in his eyes, you look at him with worry.

Mark's been distracted lately, lost in his own thoughts. You're just worried he's going through something and keeping it to himself. As his partner you want him to be comfortable enough with you to share his worries no matter how big or small. You trust him to share when he's ready but this doesn't lessen your worry for him.

He shoots you a smile before leaning back on the couch, shaking his head as a silent answer for you to not worry about him.

"Just thinking about something" he mumbles, you can feel his hand on your back drawing some pattern on your skin. You smile back at him, leaning over to give him a swift kiss.

That was the first time he almost asked you to marry him.

A few days passed and it's still the same. You choose to sweep it under the rug, if Mark says he's okay then you believe him.

You're home alone, it's your day off so you decided to catch up on some house chores. You do your laundry, mixed with some of Mark's own clothes since he stays with you more than he does at his own place.

The two of you haven't officially moved in together but he has his own toothbrush and towel in the bathroom, a shelf for his skincare stuff, a drawer full of his clothes, a mug he uses all the time and his favorite fork.

It's easy to embrace the domestic life with him, it's exciting to think of your future together and if this is how it feels like you really can't wait to spend forever with him. No matter how long that forever is.

"Hey I was calling for you" you shriek when you heard another voice, looking over to see your boyfriend by the doorway. You playfully threw the towel you were folding to him which Mark caught effortlessly

"Sorry, was busy thinking about that sock I can't find. You sure you didn't accidently threw it away the last time?" you jokingly asked him, he did the last load of laundry and you haven't seen the other pair of one of your sock

"I didn't! I swear, I'll buy you new ones when we go out. Do you need help here?" he asked even though he was already taking the pile you finished earlier to put it in the closet down the hall

"Am almost done anyways, what do you want for dinner?" you ask back, a few seconds passed when you hear his footsteps then a pair of arms engulf you

"Mhm how about pasta for tonight?"

"Okay, and for dessert?"

You hear a chuckle from behind you, "You"

"Mark Lee"

"Kidding babe, I kinda want the brownies you made last time if it isn't too much trouble for tonight"

You finish the last cloth before turning around to face him, throwing your arms around his shoulder and standing on your tiptoes to rub your nose against his. The action making Mark smile and his heart melt.

"Of course I can make them for you, no eating the chocolate while I make them though" you tell him. Mark smiles again before swooping down to give you a kiss, he can feel your grin against his own lips making the familiar feeling bloom in his chest.

That was the second time he almost asked you to marry him.

After some time, you've completely forgotten about your unsolved worry. The two of you decided to go out for a night walk, no destination in mind. Just walking hand in hand wherever your feet takes you. The two of you talk about anything and everything.

Stopping near a garden, you sat on the bench while Mark stands beside you still holding your hand.

"It's your birthday soon, what do you want?" you ask him

"It's your birthday too" he tells you, the thought of sharing such a special day together further proves his thoughts of you being the one for him.

"Yea but you're a day ahead of me"

"And then you came, like the universe knew I needed you in my life" he adds, feeling your cheeks flush you just roll your eyes at your boyfriend earning a few laughs from him

"What? I'm telling the truth, you don't believe me?"

"I do, you're the only one I'll always believe in in this world full of uncertainties" you tell him, "in some timezone we probably share a birthday" you add

"I like that, there's no other person I would want to share that day with"

Mark thinks of all the chances he had and all the chances he could have, but this right here right now felt like the right moment. So he pulls on your hand making you look up at him.

"Can I tell you something" he says

Mark swears he's never been more nervous than he is right now. Not because you might reject him, no. He's scared he'll mess up his words and regret all the things he'll forget to say

"Yea, what is it?"

"I'm so nervous right now, I think I'll screw this up" the words flew right out before he can stop them. Instead of being weirded out, you just giggle before standing up to standing infront of him,

"Then do it, I'll still love you either way. Just say it now so later on you can do it perfectly" you tell him,

"Yea that's the thing I can only say it now"

"Why?"

He takes a deep breath, suddenly the velvet box in his pocket got 10 times heavier.

"Mark? You know you can tell me anything, it's just me love. I'm not going anywhere"

This is the third time he thought about marrying you, and right now it's all or nothing.

"Will you marry me?" he blurts out

"Oh gosh wait, I was suppose to have this long speech about us but I'm really really nervous. I've had this ring since Christmas and I was scared you'd find it, and whenever we're together I almost always ask it but then I back out because you deserve something grander. And right now I just can't wait any longer, love. I love you, I want all of you, all of your days, all of your cries and laughs and worries all of them. I want to share my life with you, I want my tomorrow to be you. I want you to be my last first love, I want you to be my last girlfriend my last first everything. Will you marry me?"

One second.

Two seconds.

Three-

Then you leaped into him, arms hugging him close while you chant your answer over and over again.

"yes yes yes million times yes"

It's like the weight of the world was lifted off of Mark's shoulders, like everything fell into place. All at once everything make sense.

#fic #story #tags #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #mark lee #nct mark #nct imagine #nct fic #nct oneshot #nct fluff #nct husband #nct boyfriend #nct recommended #nct reads #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagine #mark lee scenario #mark imagine #mark au #mark oneshot #mark scenario #nct au

[lil-spider]

So Damn Pretty

Chapter 10

Part 9 : Part 11

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader

Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.

Note: The story is coming closer to completion but that’s okey cause I’m gonna be in this fandom forever even if it has died a little lol. I’ve got plenty of Johnny fics planned :3. This chapter is for those who have been so patient! Love you all😘

Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.

I stare vacantly at the couple of eggs on my plate, not feeling hungry for them. I sink further into my seat and take a glance over at Johnny. Its just him and me sitting at the dining table; the rest of the family have already finished up their breakfast, but it seems he has an appetite this morning, digging in his second plate of crispy bacon. I look back at the two eggs; things in pairs have been bothering me lately. It seems my mind still can't get over those two girls. I thought I would be over it; at the time, it didn’t bother me, but the guilt comes in waves. Crashing heavily against my consciousness. I try to keep it down, not letting it depress me. I've gained trust from the family, and I don’t want to ruin it with my emotions. 

 

With their trust comes more leniency. So much so that Drayton brings me along to the gas station, helping him out with whatever he tasks me with. 

 

A surprising amount of locals come by. They didn’t question me; they just went about their own business. I didn't know how to go about it. I guess no one back home really cares that I'm missing. Even though I'm somewhat content with my current situation, I can't help but feel sad. No one bothered at all to look for me. I know I didn't have much family, but Nate and Jessica sure did; both came from big families. There should be people searching for them. 

 

I quickly moved on from those thoughts, especially now that it's too late to go back. It's easier to just focus on other things. Even if there isn't much to focus on,.

 

At least today I can spend the rest of my time with Johnny out in the field. I love keeping him company while he works on the cars, and sometimes I help out by passing him tools or handing him a rag.

I glance over at him again while I smoosh around my runny eggs with my fork. He shoots me a small grin. I was going to smile softly back at him until a sudden shot of nausea hit me. Instead, I must have given him an ugly face because he looked at me with a raised brow. 

 

Salvia starts poring up into my mouth, and with panic, I sit up, making the chair scratch on the floor, and bolt past Johnny to the front door, slamming it open. No longer able to hold it down, I grip the veranda's handrails tightly, lean over, and vomit my breakfast onto the poor bushes below.

 

"Ya' alright, darlin'?" Johnny asks as he walks up behind me, confused. He sees what is happening and places a large hand on my back and rubs it in soft circles while I spew out misery. Thinking I was finished, I turned around to face him, smiling wearily, but a second punch of nausea came flying in, and I turned back to vomit in the bushes again.

 

“I’ll go get Sissy.” He says this, grimacing at the sight of me puking, unsure of what to do.

 

He leaves, and in a quick minute, a concerned Sissy comes with a damp hand towel, and she guides me to take a seat on the white bench, dabbing my forehead while I try not to throw up straight bile.

 

"Oh, pumpkin, this is not good," Sissy worries, still wiping my face. Johnny comes back outside, also looking concerned. 

 

“Take her to the living room, Johnny; she needs to lay down.” Sissy tells him, feeling my forehead and checking for my temperature. I’m not sure if I’m sick; I don’t feel hot. 

 

Johnny, grumbling at being told what to do, still picks me up bridal style, carrying me effortlessly to the living room, and lays me down gently on the cowhide-covered couch.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Johnny asks, turning to Sissy, wanting an answer to my sudden sickness. She places an old, rusty bucket down next to me, just in case I get sick again. 

 

"Well, she ain’t burnin' up. Maybe it’s something she ate.” She’s replies are also confused about my sudden sickness. 

 

I lay there on the couch, trying to keep whatever wants to come up down while Sissy and Johnny keep me company for a bit. It’s comforting to see how much they seem to care for me. However, after under an hour of resting and sipping on some water, I feel much better.

 

“I'm feeling better.” I said this to both of them, who looked surprised and relieved about my comeback.

 

“Somethin' must've upset ya' then.” She reasons. With that little incident over with, the rest of the day goes by as normal without any sign of sickness. It must have been something I ate. 

 

That’s what I believed until the very next morning, and then the next thing happened on the third day. Sissy keeps my hair away from my face while rubbing my back. 

 

It's another morning, and I'm back outside vomiting; it seems to be my usual puke spot outside on the veranda. 

 

 I know I've made everyone else concerned now. I can hear Nubbins questioning Johnny about why I'm throwing up so much. But he wouldn't get a solid answer from him, as he is just as clueless about my ongoing vomiting. I don’t understand either; at first, I thought I was dying, but what Sissy came up with seemed worse than dying. Her sweet voice contradicts the heavy words coming out of her mouth. I feel like I've been strapped to an anchor, and it's dragging me down, deep below. 

 

 “I think you may be pregnant, sugar; you ain’t got no fever, and sure, dang, know Johnny hasn’t been innocent with you." She explains smoothing my messy hair. 

 

Now I feel like I’m really drowning. Oh, my good I’m pregnant, oh fucking hell. It explains everything: the weight gain, my emotions playing up, and of course the morning sickness. My legs start to wobble. Holy shit, I’m pregnant with Johnny’s baby. 

Sissy notices my shaky form and decides to help me back inside. Holding my arms steady, she shuts the door behind us with her foot while leading me to the sofa. As I sit, she’s skipped off to grab a glass of lemonade while I try to calm down. Just as quickly as she left, she came back with a glass of delicious cold lemonade. Sissy places the drink in my shaky hands as I take a sip. Its sweet yet bitter flavour soothes me. 

 

“When I was in California, some of her sisters from the ranch always threw up every morning when they were pregnant. It's called morning sickness, and it's always a telltale sign that you're going to have a baby.” She explains joyfully, sitting down right next to me and giving me an excited hug. 

 

She then claps her hands together cheerfully. "Oh, how joyous a little baby!" She throws her thin arms around me again in another big hug while I sit frozen, completely gobsmacked by the revelation that I'm pregnant. I guess I must have forgotten how babies were made while I’ve been here; Johnny and I have been going at it enough. There is no denying that.

 

I placed my lemonade down on the coffee table and placed a hand over my belly. Johnny's baby is growing inside me and will later give birth to his baby. 

Sissy stands back up, going over to a sleeping grandpa. I didn't realise he was there. But Sissy, with all her excitement, accidentally woke him up, to which she apologised by telling him about the new member of the family and how he’s going to be a grandpa again. How many generations old is this baby going to make grandpa? I wonder.

Grandpa Sawyer just let out these wistful groans in reply. Sissy explains that he’s excited for a new grandchild. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand him. 

Then Johnny comes stomping in, shirtless and sweaty from being outside in the Texas heat. "What’s all the squealing you’re making? I can hear it from outside." He asks, annoyed. 

I would've hoped Sissy would keep my pregnancy to herself until I was ready to tell her, but instead she just blatantly spills out to him that I'm pregnant. 

“Bout’ time.” He says plainly, I gap at his laid-back attitude on this situation. He turns to my surprised face, and he smirks. He inches closer, bending down so his face is in front of mine. 

“I told ya I wanted to be a dad, didn’t I? It’s why I've been working so hard on you.” His smirk widens as my face flushes red in embarrassment. Have I been baby trapped?

The day goes by like usual, even though I'm an emotional, vomiting mess. Now during dinner, and for some odd reason, I never get sick eating supper. The smell of any other food makes me queasy, except cooked meat. My mouth starts to drool when I smell it being cooked. Just barely being able to keep anything else down has made me famished, and tonight, Drayton's chilli has never tasted better. Going in for seconds and now thirds.

“I should've made extra batches just for the way you eat, girl.” Drayton commented, slightly impressed with how much I can put down. 

“It’s just so good.” I moan out with a mouthful of chilli.

“It's better than good; it's the best chilli in the whole damn county.” Cook proudly states, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Oh god, enough of the chilli talk.” Johnny groans out, already frustrated with the conversation.

“Y-yeah enough!” Nubbins joins in, trying to entice a fight. 

"Oh, shut it; look at the girl; she loves it.” He points over to me, still stuffing my face with utter pleasure. 

“No more of this arguing! Y/N is in a delicate situation, and I want none of ya' messing that up!” Sissy puts her bit in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Ironically, this is her way of enticing an argument.

“What delicate situation, girl? She's just hungry.” Drayton asks, confused by Sissy’s words. 

“She’s pregnant, and ya' can't do anything about' it.” Sissy again spills the beans on my pregnancy, but now to the rest of the family. 

I look over at Johnny puasing my eating to see his reaction to Sissy not being able to keep anything to herself. “They'll find out sooner or later.” He just sinks further back into the chair, crossing his muscular arms under his chest, waiting for the onslaught of words from Drayton. 

Bubba, who is next to me, is the first to react. He places his large hand on top of his head and pats it, like if I were a puppy. He groans gleefully, I guess, letting me know that he is happy with the new addition. He can be a real gentle giant when there isn't anyone to murder. 

Cook has gone absolutely red as a tomato, while nubbins start snickering. "Oooh, J-Johnny, I-I-is in trouble.” It seems the night has gone his way for wanting drama.

"God, Damnit, boy, I knew this would happen. You can’t control yourself, can you? Always chasing tail, and now a baby.” Drayton stood up at the start of his rant but now has sat down, looking almost deafted.

“Your mother will go ballistic once she finds out.” Drayton points his finger at Johnny, warning him.

“Shut it, old man! You got nothing to worry about; it’s bout time; we’re all getting old, and we gotta keep the family going.” He counters Drayton's words. 

It looked like Nubbins wanted to say more, but with Johnny quickly standing up and leaving, it was pointless. 

Dinner practically finished up after that fight, and I just sat there silently, not sure what to do. I was supposed to help clean up, but I sneakily decided to go find Johnny. Anyway, with all the commotion still going on with Nubbins and Sissy messing with Drayton, it’s best I stay away. 

I check the front veranda; Johnny has a few smoke spots he always goes to: the front, the back garden, and his shed. But luckily, my first guess was right, as I found him sitting on the outdoor bench. While walking to him, he quickly puts on his smoke, squishing it under his boot. “Shouldn’t smoke around you anymore.” He grins at me, and just as I take a seat, he places his warm hand on my stomach. 

“The second I saw you, I knew you were the perfect girl to have my kid. So fucking pretty, I'm going to look after the both of you, I promise.” 

His words send tingles all throughout your body; it’s electrifying. You place your hand over his, smiling back at him.

“Soon you’re going to get real big, darlin’; ya tits are going to get nice and fat too.” He teases with humour, but a familiar, hungry look starts building in his eyes. 

As he inches closer to me, his large hand moves away from mine and glides up, grabbing a breast. He squeezes it firmly before starting to massage it. His warm breath is on my neck as he kisses right below my jaw. Wetness begins to pool in my panties. 

“Run up the stairs to your room and undress before I take you right here.” As much as I wanted to tease him, it’s better to listen, or he really would take me here, in any position too. He gets very creative when he's horny. 

I get up and leave, going to my room just as instructed. I closed the door behind me and set myself on the bed to undress. I wore a blue sundress today, so I just unzipped the side and let it slip right off. Leaving me in my white panties. Even though it didn’t take me long to undress, it wasn't quick enough for Johnny. He was already here, striding in and locking the door behind him, already semi-undressed too.

“Come on, darlin', only your panties left to go; take em off for me.” I happily obliged, hooking my fingers into the side, purposefully bending over, and sliding them down. 

I look back to see the bulge in his jeans while he takes them off. Now he is just as naked as me. I will never get tired of looking at his body. His large muscles, pecs, sprinkled on chest hair leading down to his happy trail—the sight of his scars always makes me throb. Fuck, he is gorgeous.

With my ogling, I fail to notice him getting closer. Wrapping his large arms around me, he whispers into my ear, “I want you to take a seat on my face while keeping your mouth busy with my cock.” He groans before going to lay down on the bed. This is a new position, and with only a little hesation, I gingerly climb over him, placing my legs on the side of his head. Before I sink down, he grabs my hips roughly, bringing my swollen heat to his mouth. 

I gasp as his tongue slides back and forth over my clit. I lean further down, grinding my wetness along his mouth needing more. His impressive cock, comes into view, precum leaking out; it’s red and aching to be sucked. 

I lick his tip timidly before taking his whole length, making a sloppy mess while focusing on his head, I hear him groan as I go deeper. His grunting sends small, delightful vibrations along my clit.

My muffled moans fill the room as he holds me in place, my aching pussy being devoured while I simultaneously suck off Johnny. I hallow out my cheeks, pinch my lips, and let my tongue slide along his shaft. Working extra hard to get him to finish first. 

It's difficult; he knows exactly how to get me off. He knows where I'm most sensitive and what feels best. My plans to make him cum first are starting to falter; I'm struggling to even keep myself steady. I put my tired arms on top of his muscular thighs, giving them a rest. I take a deep breath and continue to encompass his cock, swirling my tongue along the base. I’m a little sloppy with the rhythm now, but I don’t think he cares. 

I can feel my orgasm building as Johnny doesn’t even stop for air, still sucking and licking my clit with undying hunger. His grip on my hips still remains strong, making me unable to pull away. 

My limbs are starting to become sore. Needing him to finish, I start sucking his cock faster, my salvia drenching him, making it easier for it to slide along my tongue. My moans turn to whines as my own orgasm is right on the edge. 

I feel him twitch in my mouth while his groans continue from below. "Fuck, I’m gonna cum." I choked out, stopping to take a deep breath. 

Johnny slides his hands along my thighs as his tongue stays strong, massaging my clit, while keeping a steady pace.

I take his throbbing length back into my mouth right before my orgasm hits. The force of it makes my legs turn to jelly while I moan incoherently around him. I try to move away, my clit becoming increasingly sensative, but his hands grip back to my hips, holding me captive while he moves his hot tongue in my cunt, licking up my juices as he thrusts himself deeper down my throat. Not letting me until he cums. 

I’m a whimpering mess; my thighs squeeze his face while I lick and sucking, getting him closer so my poor pussy can have a break. 

My efforts were deemed successful as his cock started to twitch and stiffen. With my last lick, he spills himself. He groans as his cock pulsates while I swallow his whole load. With revenge, I continue to suck him, knowing he's going sensitive. He hisses and quickly pulls me off.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckles, slapping my ass hard.

I yelp from the harsh slap and roll my body to the side, recovering from the intense orgasm. Johnny, too, lays still panting. I move up and lay my head on his chest. He throws an arm around me as we both relax into each other. 

Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep on his chest. 

It's in the middle of the night that I wake up to long, thick fingers inside me, thrusting in and out slowly. 

“You awake, baby?” Johnny asks, now teasing my hard clit with his thumb. I moan out in response, gripping the bedsheets.

"Yeah, does that feel good?" His whispers, his face moving into the crook of my neck, his hardness pressing up against me.

"Ah-ah.” I try to say yes, but it’s morphed into moans.

“Fuck, your tight baby girl, gonna' feel so good when I put it in. He groans while I spread my legs further apart from his words. I'm going to cum soon with the way he’s going.

Instead, he pulls his fingers back, slides over on top, and plunges his hard cock inside me. He slips his wet fingers into his mouth, tasting myself, while his cock goes further deep inside. 

I groan out while he stretches me. A mixture of sleepiness and arousal makes me clench around him. Johnny, in turn, pulls out his fingers, replacing them with his tongue and pushing it into my accepting mouth as he starts a fast rhythm, pounding into me.

All noise is blocked out, except for my moans and the slapping sound of his cock fucking in and out of my sopping hole. 

“I'm going to keep you on my cock forever.” He groans into my ear, grabbing onto my swinging chest. Groping the fatty flesh.

I whimper at the thought of being his cock slave, as if I weren’t already. 

He sits up, holding my hips tightly in one hand, and as the other goes to rub my clit, I hold my tits, stopping their swinging from his hard thrusts.

“I'm going to be full of milk soon.” I moan out, teasing him, thrusting back against his cock. I felt his cock twitch as he groans, knowing he's imaging my tits spilling milk. The hand that was squeezing my hip goes to squish a boob, swatting my hand away and pinching the nipple.

I throw my head back in ecstasy and wrap my legs around Johnny’s waist, getting closer to my second orgasm of the night. 

“Ya' gonna' cum on my cock, sweetheart?” He teases, rubbing my clit achingly slow.

I whine as he also starts to stop his thrusting, keeping me on edge. Repeatedly pulling himself fully out of my cunt and slowly pushing back in. 

Not giving in to his teasing, Johnny takes his cock and starts jerking it, leaving me feeling empty and frustrated. 

“Use your words, darlin'.” He groans out, now stopping his rubbing on my clit, only focusing on getting himself off. 

“Please! Please, I want to cum.” I moan wantonly, fucking desperate for him to continue.

It’s not enough; he is still waiting. 

 

“please daddy.” I moan, testing out a new nickname.

It does the trick as he groans deeply, gliding his hardness back inside me and thrusting away.

Relief floods me when his cock goes back into my aching heat. I’m so close to finishing. 

“I-I-I’m cumming!” I cry out as my pussy squeezes him tightly. My orgasm sends Johnny over the edge as he cums just as quickly inside me.

“Fuck yeah, baby, cum on daddy’s cock.” He moans out, shoving himself deeper. 

I whimper from the overly sensative feeling of being filled and having two orgasms in a short amount of time. 

It’s been a few weeks, and my bump has become more visible. It seems each day I just keep getting bigger and bigger. It does help my confidence that Johnny just can’t seem to keep his hands off me since I’ve become pregnant. It’s like the animal inside of him has changed. Becoming more protective and sex-hungry.

I won’t lie. Being pregnant has been a nice change; I’m doing less labour. Sissy considers me too delicate, and she doesn't want to stress the baby. Drayton has even been forcing Nubbins to actually clean up the messes he makes; he didn’t listen until Sissy and Johnny got on his ass about it too. Three against one, it took him to actually listen. It’s mainly bone scraps he leaves around, always making new traps. He even showed me how he makes him; it was impressive, especially how well they worked on the animals nearby. He explains that it was Grandpa who taught him everything he knows, from killing, slicing, and cleaning his blade, "back when Grandpa was still in his killing form." He told me enthusiastically. 

It’s hard to picture Grandpa in his so-called 'killing form', even if it was years ago. He's just so old and motionless, but with the way he enjoys his blood, I can understand that he may have been more ruthless than anyone here. 

Having less work has made me bored, only spending time in the lounge. I’ve been trying to find my stuff to do. I have no more clothes to patch up or anything to make. And I’ve cleaned so much that there is barely anything else to clean. I need to find something to do before I go crazy.

Johnny has noticed me being a little slumped, so he decided to bring inside some dead rabbits and teach me how to skin them. How lovey. Though it did cure my boredom, even if it was gross, and he did a much better job than me, he made it look so effortless. It was like it was his thousandth time doing it. Unfortunately, it probably was. During my time here, I learned that Johnny is an efficient hunter. The skulls of the animals and other people he killed are used as decorations in the house. 

Those rabbits that we skinned went into a crockpot meal with mashed potatoe; Sissy made it with a bunch of herbs and veggies from her greenhouse. You can't get this type of fresh food in the city. Not including people. 

I decided to try and work on my baking skills, asking Drayton if he could bring back some condensed milk so I could try to make some caramel fudge. He agreed; we already have butter and sugar, so it wasn't too much of an ask, and let’s just say my caramel fudge was a hit. Everyone has a surprising sweet tooth. Maybe not too surprising, as the pantry was stocked with tubs of chocolate drink powder. 

So now during the day, to help my boredom, I've been baking treats and deserts, and it's nice that everyone likes my baking. Even Johnny, who seemed like someone who hates sugar, eats up the sweets much like everyone else. Sissy always gets excited to see what I've made for dessert. She tells me it's become her favourite part of the day. 

Time goes by, and so I get even bigger. Including my chest, I think it's doubled in size; it’s embarrassing how big I’m getting. It doesn’t help that Nubbins snickers around me, poking fun at the size of his chest; he called me a cow one day, and sweet Bubba, who would do anything for his family, smacked Nubbins really hard on the back, making the lanky man tumble embarrassingly forward on the ground. which I've believed humbled him, as I got no more teasing after that.

Some of the spare clothes I’ve had that were modest are now very form-fitting and showy, just because of my growing size. Thankfully, there are old male button-up shirts that I can use to give myself some dignity. 

I don't even know why I worry about my dignity when I let Johnny strip me naked and put me in compromising positions. Thanks to my growing breasts, Johnny couldn’t seem to hold himself back, and now we've been fucking everywhere, more than before.

One moment I’m relaxing outside in the middle of the day, the next I’m nude, riding his cock on the old, ripped-out car seats out back near his shed. I have to hold on to his shoulders tightly because he's making me go. Moving me up and down. He does it purposefully because he likes watching my tits bounce. 

Being pregnant has made everything more sensitive. So when he places his mouth over my nipple and pinches the other, I almost cum. At least fucking outside, I get to be loud. I just hope no one is watching. 

But as I get closer to cumming, the less I care if anyone can see. I’m enjoying myself. So I throw my head back, and I grind down on Johnny while I peak. Milking his cock through my orgasm, he squeezes my chest, holds me down tightly, and fills me up with his hot cum.

Just as my chest grows, so does my ass, so a day later I’m on all fours, holding the headboard for dear life, trying to keep my moans low as Johnny slams into me from behind. He smacks my ass as I thrust back onto him. He grips the fat hard. Making sure this time I finish from his cock alone. Just as I came, he pulls out and pumps himself until he shoots his load over my clit  and pussy, making a mess. He reasons that since I'm pregnant, he can decorate me with his cum. He's especially loves shooting his cum over my face and chest. It's nice that he makes sure I have an orgasm right before he does.

Yes, all my assets may be growing; but most importantly, my stomach is too, With the baby getting bigger, Johnny's softer side comes out.

So now he has a pillow under my hips while he slowly ruts his cock while softly sucking my nipple. He slides his hand over my body, feeling all the curves. He slides his hands down and up my leg till he brings it over to my clit, rubbing it in delicate circles. I groan; going slow is new, but fuck, it still feels good to get pampered like this. 

 

“We’re not fucking like this all the time, are we?” I'm still addicted to the hard and fast fucking Johnny is known for. 

"Nah, Darlin, I just like the way you glow tonight and want it slow.” He says this while ironically speeding up, causing me to whimper.

As my orgasm gets closer, I hold his face in my hands and stare into his handsome eyes. “I love you, Johnny.” I pant out as I cum around him.

“I love you too, doll,” he responds, filling me up with his cum and kissing me hard.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #leland tcm #tcm game #ana flores #connie tcm #sawyer family #tcm fanfic #johnny slaughter fanfic #johnny slaughter x reader

[raedroid2004]

Never Too Young To Die

Prologue: Ragnar’s Renegades

Ok I’m doing this now because a lot of my kiss discord friends want this and I have been obsessed with this movie lately so I might do this for a while. Hopefully you all will enjoy this continuation/rewrite of Never Too Young To Die

Also in my rewrite, I don’t really know what pronouns Velvet used so I’m gonna make them go by all pronouns. I feel like it suits them

——————————————————————————

Night is usually a peaceful time. The lights are down, everyone is asleep and dreaming away. But not here in California. The night is still young and the city is still alive and of course, the rebels are on the rise. Fort MacArthur, once a large military base, is where the devoted renegades of the city are running wild. They all devote themselves to a powerful mastermind. They are flamboyant and fierce but merciless and devilish and looked down at her rebels sitting in a pit down below of their secret camp. She smirked and looked, revelling in the praise of her followers as they chanted her name, a dastardly plan in her eyes

“My little slugs, how are we tonight?” He shouted, receiving shouts of praise once again. “Very good. Let me think, we’ve got access to their computers, how to channel radioactive waste and all of it will go from Diablo Canyon into those unfortunate souls drinking water. We’ve got everything we need to set our plan into motion!” She declared proudly. Her followers cried out in joy over their victory

“However, there is a slight glitch. Someone had stolen our little disk. The last piece of the puzzle.” She stated gloomily and the others below her groaned in disbelief and anger, ranting to one another and were ready to destroy something nearby in rage.

“Velvet! I’ve got something for you!” A voice called out, gaining everyone’s attention “Bring her in!” She ordered some of her crew members, carrying a woman down the path. Velvet looked down to see a slender woman with black hair and cold gray eyes and gave her a smirk. This was Rayla, Velvets right hand lady and the most dangerous of her renegades. Well, except for herself of course.

“Rayla! Well done darling!” Velvet thanked, jumping down to join her and they looked at their prisoner. The poor woman has been chosen as the perfect source of the culprit. They lowered her into the pit and she looked at Ragnar in horror.

“Now tell me, who did it?” She ordered and the woman looked on in fear, but she stood her ground.

“I’ll never tell you! You can’t get me to talk!” She whimpered and Rayla dropped down and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

“We can! Do not dare test him!” She shouted to her face. As she held her up close to her face, Rayla noticed something dangling off of her ear. A circular emblem with a star pattern engraved in the token. Velvet took a notice as well and ripped it off her ear, receiving a shriek of pain from their prisoner.

“Stargrove huh? What’s her name?” She asked.

“Some bitchy name like Lily Jones? I don’t know, doesn’t matter right?” Rayla replied

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” He answered. The other followers smirked with satisfaction and Lily was shaking in fear, hoping she would be spared.

“Please don’t kill me! I promise I’ll do anything for you! But please leave me alone!” She cried in desperation. Velvet leaned down and caressed her cheek

“Listen darling. Be careful with who you trust because in this place, chances have to be earned.” She whispered gently, revealing her long fingernail and stabbed her prisoner with no hesitation. As her prisoner fell to ground, slowly losing consciousness and passing away, the others cheered for their mighty leader.

“Now everyone, change of plan. Get me Stargrove! I want Stargrove!” She announced angrily. Everyone scrambled together and started to run around in a frenzy while Velvet took the emblem and strutted off. Now it was time for the biggest fight of the decade.

——————————————————————————

Velvet inspected the emblem stolen from her disappointing prisoner, checking every detail possible. Something about the pendent enrages her, hidden deep inside she is disturbed by it, something she never shared with anyone. Except for her.

“Everything alright?” Velvet looked up and saw Rayla, standing by the doorway of their master bedroom.

“With you here, everything is perfect.” Velvet purred, throwing the pendent behind him and getting up to take his partners hand. “Great job out there darling. Like always.” He complimented, kissing the hand of his most loyal partner

“Sorry the prisoner was disappointing again. These bastards can be so rude.” Rayla apologized but Velvet raised a hand to stop her

“You weren’t the problem my love. They had their chance and they didn’t take it so they brought it upon themselves.” Velvet explained, lying down on the couples large red bed. “Aside from dealing with that lunatic, how was your day?”

“Well not the greatest. I was talking to Pyramid and found out that Stargrove’s Faction has slaughtered about 8 of our crew. I tried to get them but they left in the nick of time.” She replied and Velvet spotted a bleeding area on Rayla’s arm.

“Come here. Your arm is bleeding. We can’t have that.” Rayla sat down and Velvet quickly but safely pulled off her long dark trench coat and started tending to his lovers wound.

“Again, sorry for wasting too much time on that issue. I was being careless again.”

“You don’t have to apologize about that babe. I just wished someone told me sooner. That way I would’ve been there to protect you.”

“You’ve done it before countless times. I just want to return the favour.”

“Darling, you already know that you are more than worthy of me and my love. You don’t need to hurt yourself to prove it.” Velvet took her hands and kissed each one of them delicately and Rayla smiled hard.

“You know for a criminal, you’re quite a charmer.”

“Everyone’s got their talents.” She smiled back and Rayla threw her jacket to the floor.

“Speaking of talents, the finger always amazes me. Where did you come up with that idea?” She asked, tugging off her boots

“I’m just that good I guess. I come up with some wacky things from time to time. But trust me, I’ll use it again in order to make Stargrove pay.” She swore and gripped the blankets of the bed, anger returning again

“Why does he keep coming back and getting us all killed? Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time?” Rayla asked annoyed

“He and I have been… acquainted before. But I put the past behind me unlike him. But he’s not very bright. I know he’s gonna come and get us at our base but we’ll be ready for him.” Velvet explained, smirking once more

“How do you know that?”

“Riley knew a guy from his little faction and so he gets a lot out of him, even if he has to do some convincing. Riley surprises me with that kind of stuff.” He admitted and goes over to Rayla, hanging up her coat

“That’s wild. But then, you come up with the best schemes around here.” Rayla admitted, smirking as Velvet wrapped their arms around her. “Seriously, you blow me away.”

“And you will be the best killer for the job!” Velvet responded and they plopped back on their bed, laughing and enjoying themselves. “And side note, I’ve got a show coming up. April 21 and I need a good opening act. You will be perfect on that stage my dearest.”

“I love these things about you. You love chaos and destruction but you still have a soft spot for me.” Rayla remarked and Velvet strokes her cheek.

“It’s true but my love for you is stronger than any explosive. Just know that you are the most precious thing I can ever love.” They smiled at each other and kissed passionately on the lips.

“You got it babe. Opening act on April 21, I’ll be there.” She answered

“Knew I could count on you. Now, how about a little bit of fun tonight. What do you say?” Velvet asked, gently pushing her down on the bed.

“I’d love to but I’m feeling tired after all the shit that happened today.” Rayla admitted and slowly pulled the blankets over herself.

“Fair enough. But don’t forget that you promised for fun the other night.” He teased and Rayla threw a pillow at him, causing the two of them to erupt in laughter. “Just rest up ok darling?” He leaned down and gently kissed her and Rayla played with his hair until they let go to breathe

“Goodnight Vel. Love you.” She said softly and blew them a kiss as they started to leave the room. “Will you be back soon?”

“Yes. Just need some air. Goodnight darling. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful companion like you.” They whispered, blowing a kiss back at her before shutting the door. As they did, they immediately started to panic over the pendent, feeling a cold pressure on themself.

“He can do whatever he wants with me. But he’s not getting anywhere near my girl. I’ll make sure of it.” They muttered slowly levelling their breathing before opening the door to reunite with their lover, forging more plans to stop Stargrove

#never too young to die #velvet von ragnar #kiss band #kissblr #writerscorner

[wackymaci]

I guess I’m using this as a casual oc posting blog now too?? cause this is from priv twt and I don’t necessarily wanna put it on the big blog since it’s an unorganized mess lmao

but so long as I’m posting convo snippets and related moments. allow me to transfer over a thread i’d made re:,, Eisa and Einmyria, Tory’s oopsie twins with Loki — if you don’t know from my twt (dm me for circumstances if you’re really curious and nosy lmfao) the elysiumverse IS undergoing some minor restructuring over the past few months & still now for.,,,, reasons. some of which involves some retconning to completely delete some obscure characters from the common consciousness & massively overhauling others -

THATS not super important but you’ll see why that’s sort of relevant, anyway for preservation purposes I am going to!! copy and paste a specific twitter thread as bullet points and it’s attached OOOO CANON CLIPS underneath the cut bc :-)))))) this is all about Loki obviously mwah

fuckin hello if I write lokikid Tobias out of existence that means the first of Loki’s children that HE didn’t carry HIMSELF like — EVER beforehand - were Eisa&Einmyria with Tory? he was a basketcase at the time for other reasons (accident babies, Maci was not happy,🤪) but if I retcon now it’s so much worse🤩

due to the series of tragic events befalling his first six children Loki has ALWAYS been highly anxious and cagey every time he’s been pregnant anyway and havin to trust someone else now w them was. oh god let me go back in time I feel like I didn’t give that enough wEIGHT AAHHHH

saying this wholeheartedly with the knowledge that even with or without *deliberately* devoting the proper amount of gravity to this Loki canonically was still so stressed out at the time he literally triggered the beginning of Ragnarok but, like, lmao meh,, EDIT to add that whole series of events with Thanatos happened DURING Tory’s pregnancy w them so that’s like. Loki: no i’m not psychologically affected from how that all went down at all :-) -*THE END OF THE WORLD ACCIDENTALLY BEGINS*

haha did I ever discuss how Eisa and Einmyria were conceived. well:

and of course; the follow up part 8 (Bel and Ty were like,, idk age 6?)—

kicky feet lmao reading this whooooole chain of events is so wild, just some of the most utterly delightfully vicious behavior cycling between Maci and Loki and Tory this was SO much scream fighting on and on, would get resolved and then exploded again, just SO unhinged—

so reading this now 10 years later where - Maci & Loki & Tory do successfully co-parent Eisa and Einmyria with zero issues lmao and. where lately Loki’s made a complete 180 re: Maci and Tory in.,,, an insanely nsfw domesticated way is so. wow the difference a decade makes,, SCREAM

at this point in this twitter thread, a brief several day interlude takes place during which the l0ki show finale premieres and pisses me off enough for me to return to this thread in a slightly different direction lmfao??? the following;

BACK 2 ELYSIUM. Ty & Bel when they were kiddos were obsessed with Loki - god whose every word out of his mouth is a lie VS mindreading “children” who could literally see all of his actual thoughts & deep insecurities, especially when Drama Occurred & Loki refused to fuckin talk to anyone—

when goin thru that Eisa Einmyria plot collection I found yet another huge scene tht Loki’d caused with Tory & Maci (dont forget this timeframe was SOOO VICIOUS) & found afterwards Bel finding him & talking to him with, quote—

“They can't understand that you wreck things when you're nervous”

ssso um, elysiumLoki thesis statement, oh hh,hhhHHHHH— 🥺🥺🥺

Yknow what I went back and retrieved that exact section again an d it’s. so. I think Bel was like age 6 here lmfao:

collapses. just think this thread was recorded BEFORE I plunged myself into the 2012 section of the archives during Loki’s first entrance into Elysium so. honestly all these convo snippets I may or may not post MAY or MAY NOT be E!L related AAAHHHHHH— anyway. thoughts..,,,, thots…….,,

#canon convos #:’)( #y’know what Lemme. make another. new tag on here uhhhc9 #oc talk

[altocat]

Would really like to see a more serious take on that 'Aerith haunting Sephiroth' ask. Maybe her spirit haunts him after she gets killed?

Can do! I been doing a lot of shitposting today so I'm in the mood for some serious angst. Also this may be canon in the fic world of A Monster's Threads lol.

-For starters, in most versions of the Altoverse, Sephiroth and Aerith knew each other in the lab as children, with specific plans in place to breed them once they reached adulthood. Sephiroth was also completely infatuated with Ifalna and desperately wanted her as his surrogate mother.

-After Sephiroth--or Jenova piloted by Sephiroth's will--kills Aerith, he's completely smug and satisfied. The last Cetra eliminated. The last threat in his way. Gone. He's won. He only needs to wait for his good little puppet to reach him and then it's over for the humans.

-That's when Sephiroth begins...seeing things. Wherever his consciousness drifts, another entity follows him. A tiny girl in green clinic pajamas, her torso stained with blood, her eyes sad and accusing. Why did you do this? You were supposed to protect me. Why, Sephy?

-At first, he's irritated. Go join the other lower creatures in the Lifestream. He has no idea what you're talking about. You can't save them. He continues on with his scheming, waiting for Cloud's arrival, watching the chaos unfold. But the girl keeps... appearing. Here. There. All around him. Always so small and frail, bloodied and crying. I trusted you. You were my friend.

-He doesn't understand. What does she MEAN? Is she seriously trying to make him feel regret? Feel anything at all beyond his own divine machinations? He wishes he could just block her out, make her go away. But she just. Keeps. Coming.

-That's when the flashes come. She brings them every time she gets closer. Feelings. Sensations. A cold tile floor. The scent of fragrant summer apples. A waterfall. A smoky rooftop. She brings them all in little stinging pockets, his mind recoiling, reeling in rage. And still she pleads with him. This has to stop. This has to end.

-But he can't let it end. He WON'T let it end. He's a god. A God beyond all recognition and imagination. She needs to be quiet. She needs to stay away.

-When she brings the woman to him, their hands linked together, he nearly feels himself spiraling. He can't see the woman's face. It's too hazy. He can only stare at her beautiful copper brown hair, her delicate skin and long red skirt. Those linked hands. Oh gods. He's going to be sick. He needs Jenova. He needs her to take it away.

-More flashes. More faces. All imposed on each other. Aerith's. The woman's. Jenova's. And a fourth, this one hazier than all the others, flashing, hands unable to reach him. In his mind, his Masamune shoots into them all again and again and again, severing them, ripping them apart, ripping HIMSELF apart.

-Bu the time he receives the Black Materia, Sephiroth is possibly more deranged than ever. And with Meteor's steady approach, the visits begin to die down. Less visions. No more pain. He doesn't care anymore, can no longer feel them, or anything else. It will all burn. All of it will be consumed by the fire. He will absorb everything and nothing will ever touch him again.

-And Aerith knows, through grief and regret and love and hate, that it's over. It's too late for him now. Far too late.

#Sephiroth #Sephcanons #ff7 #ffvii #crisis core #asks #final fantasy 7 #Aeriseph #aeris gainsborough #Ifalna #Jenova #Lucrecia Crescent #A Monster's Threads #Angst

[his-saiko]

The Summoning

— The Other Side

"Take me to the other side."

You weren't supposed to be anywhere near this man's path. But there was something about you that seems so compelling. Curiosity? Lust? Threat? He just has to know. Whatever it is, there's one thing he is definitely set on. He wants you and he's not so easily distracted from that goal.

— Hawks x f!oc/reader. Friends? Dabi x f!oc/reader. Friends.

C/Tw. themes of harm, themes of mental issues, intrusive thoughts [All possible triggering content will be enclosed in !'s

1.5k

You took time to recover from your shutdown and have used the time to think about what to do with what you know. The right thing to do would be to report the authorities but how would you explain how you got that information? You weren't exactly abducted and you got out alive. You sigh. It is just as heavy as your own thoughts.

"You could try to figure it out on your own." "Like a detective?" "Detective work feels like a hassle." You get ready to go out and see both the feather and the tracker phone on your desk. "Wouldn't hurt to leave those alone." You tell yourself. Is there really any reason to keep in touch with both? You can always pretend like nothing happened, that you've never met them. Just as you've always done.

You make the call. "Hello? I'd like to go if the offer is still available."

You wait at the corner of the street to be picked up. A car comes up to you and someone comes out. It wasn't anyone you recognise but your distrust must be within their expectations. They introduced themselves as your driver and gave you the information you need to trust them for the moment at least.

"So he'll know if I go missing?" You play it off as a joke but it was a genuine concern of it still.

They say yes.

You get in the car and let them drive you to the place. You fidget with your clothes as you anticipate your arrival. You consciously make an effort to make yourself look and feel calm.

The driver helps you out of the car and you were greeted by those who are supposed to be assisting you. Your eyes scan but you don't see him anywhere. You breathe out. "I guess it's for the best..."

"L/n Y/n?"

"Yes?" You turn but saw no one but a brooding man with an intense gaze. You lower your head to avoid his eyes then see a small white heteromorph.

"I'm Nezu. You must be the one Hawks contacted me about. Are you ready to register your quirk?"

"Uhm. Yes, but I don't have much control over it since it manifested so late." "What's the etiquette of talking to a person this small?"

"That's okay. You don't have to worry about losing control. We have someone who can take care of that."

You follow the peculiar person down the hall. "You mean Hawks?"

"No. Aizawa." He gestures towards the brooding man.

"Oh."

You did all sorts of tests. Some have been more difficult than others. Like, the needle not being to break your skin. But worse than all of them, was when you were put in a room with someone asking you questions about your life and childhood that you don't even remember anymore. You look in the mirror. This isn't like any other psych evaluation.

"Dr..."

"Just a few more minutes." He reassures. "How are you feeling?"

"Like you need to get out and bring the man who could stop me from losing control of my quirk." You answer but the tone of pleading escaped your throat. "Please!"

You rise from your seat and hold onto your chest. You can't breathe.

"It's okay. Why don't we try to calm down together."

You feel a presence coming towards you so you scream and swing your arm but your arm got caught in what looked like a bandage. You realise that you can't activate your quirk. You follow the cloth and see the brooding man from before.

He quickly let you go.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I was scared!"

"It's okay. We can stop here."

You have a weighted blanket over you as you wait by the lobby.

"Is she still here? Y/n!"

You turn to the voice and see the pro-hero coming towards you. "Sorry. I couldn't come sooner. I was held up in work. Did anything happen?"

You shake your head but you feel tears forming and threatening to make themselves known. "I think I messed up." You babble then bury your face in your hands.

Hawks chuckles a bit. "I think you're supposed to, Y/n. If you didn't the data might not be accurate."

"They didn't even do anything. I just panicked."

"You think you need some air?"

Hawks flies you to the top of the hospital. You sit down on the floor and breathe in and out deeply.

Both of you stay silent, but there was an agreement between you two as well. You both want to ask about being with the villains.

"Y/n—" "Hawks—"

"Oh—" "Oh—" You both chuckle and fall silent.

"About the villains—"

"I trust you." You immediately say. "Whatever your reason, I trust you. Even if we take different paths, I trust you." The words become heavier in your heart as you repeat them.

"I'll always get to you when you need me." Hawks smiles though very different from the ones he puts on for the masses. "Count on it."

"Oho~ She came back," Toga comments as she sees you.

"Dabi's little girlfriend?" Twice asks as he peeks from the door.

"Girlfriend?" You repeat in confusion. "Little??" You look at Twice but quickly back down when you notice the height difference between you two. "I— I thought I wanted to check this place out more?" You say your excuse, but actually, you're here to tail a friend. "What do you do here exactly?"

"What you trying to know our secrets to sell us out?" — "Are you gonna be our friend then?"

"I guess I shouldn't have asked that. Is Dabi here? I called him to get here but I haven't seen him."

"He's out," Toga answers. "You wouldn't mind hanging out with us for a bit, right?" She grins.

"Well, there's not much else to do but that, right?"

Toga drags you around to show you everything she likes while Twice follows along giving commentary. There you find a little about their hierarchy.

"League of Villians using the Liberation Army as a front." You note. "Ah. Where's Shigaraki?"

"He's with the doctor." Toga answers immediately but her eye are trained on you.

You pause for a moment. "Is he sick or something?" You feel pressure weighing down on you the more the topic continues.

"Something like that."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Hey, it's Hawks. Hawks!" Twice waves down at the hallway.

Hawks's eyes met with yours and you give him a gentle smile. You three joined up with him. Though it seems that the group was already divided with Toga staying close to you and Twice talking up a storm with Hawks. And between you and Hawks, you both built a wall in between you two for this.

"Wait, why did you come back? Are you joining?" — "You better not be a spy or anything."

"Honestly..." You start. "I'm on the fence about it. I was thinking about talking to Dabi or Shigaraki to help make things clear for me."

"Why them? We're here." Toga asks.

"Hmm. Well, why are you guys here?"

"Because the League makes me feel useful and they're fine with being me." Twice answers.

"Because I want things my way." Toga follows.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." You mutter you put your hands in your pockets. "Me? I'm just looking for something to aim for."

"Like what?" Toga looks at you with curiosity.

You shrug. "Hope. Freedom." Your voice lowers. "I'm honestly tired of being no one I guess." You briefly glance at Hawks. He himself was quiet but you can tell by his eyes he was thinking. "I don't want to put up a front though, I wanna be myself."

"See? That sounds like our cause." Toga holds your hand. "You should really join us. It would be nice to have someone I like around."

"Yeah..."

You sit down facing the horizon. You hug your knees and play the scene in your head over and over to try and get an emotion out of yourself.

"I see you have found the roof." You watch as Dabi joins you.

"Toga and Twice kept me company. They seemed nice."

"And they seem to like you too. Don't know how to feel about the crazies liking you."

"It takes one to know one." You both laugh.

"Twice says you plan on joining."

"Wouldn't say plan. It's complicated." You shift to a different position propping your head.

"What else is there to think about?"

"Someone doesn't want me being here." You lean back. "And I did say I don't want to get caught up in this war of yours."

"You mean Hawks?" Dabi scoffs and clicks his tongue, annoyance growing in his chest. "What does that hero have to do with your business?"

"Same that he doesn't have any like you." You answer then fall silent for a moment. "I've studied people as a pass time. Shigaraki has something people need to fear. And for someone like you, alongside him." You give Dabi a side glance. "I can already see what comes next."

Dabi raises his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"The pain you all feel." You shift again and fold your hands together. "And it's difficult to deny that that's my pain as well."

taglist:

© 2023 Alfi. Do not replicate.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha x you #mha #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi bnha #dabi #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n

[azertyrobaz]

Vortex Chapter 11/12

Concussion, he immediately thought. Not the first time he had one of those, and it sometimes took a few minutes for his mind to clear. Nothing to worry about.

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Din loses some of his memories. How will he decide to get them back? And should he get them back? Thankfully, he has friends to help him figure it out. Amnesia/Memory loss fic.

******

Chapters: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12

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Read below or on ao3.

“What’s the last thing you remember clearly?”

It hadn’t been easy to get a conversation going at first, but eventually the spotchka had helped, and Omera had stopped looking so hesitant to stay. This particular question, coming from Cara, who’d been doing most of the talking, was clearly one she’d wanted to ask herself.

Din exhaled slowly and slipped a little further on his armchair. He wanted Grogu to rest as flat as possible on his chest to be more comfortable while he slept, but it was no easy feat. Every time he shifted, the boy would grip his clothes with his sharp claws, consciously or unconsciously making sure he wouldn’t remove him from his spot.

“Letting Grogu go to the Jedi,” he replied softly.

He wondered at his choice of words. But he remembered his conversation with Skywalker so strikingly well. To his confused mind, it had only taken place a few days prior, not two years back. And now he was back to asking himself more questions. Had the Jedi actually been wrong?

“He said the boy wanted my permission to go,” he uttered out loud. “And yet he’s back. I still don’t know what happened.”

“You’ve never made the wrong choice? Or realized it was a mistake after the fact?” Cara pointed out, when she knew very well that he had. Many times over.

He’d come back for the kid. And now the kid had come back for him. Full circle. Fitting, somehow.

“Grogu decided he wanted to be with you,” said Omera, and Din nodded, not trusting his voice. It was one thing to have come up with this conclusion on his own, but to have it spoken out loud was something else. He hugged the boy a little tighter and he thought he saw a small smile forming on his lips as he slept on.

“I’ve been taking him for granted,” he admitted once he felt he had a better grip over his emotions. Was it the spotchka loosening his tongue? Or the fact that it was now dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to read judgement in the women’s eyes?

“I know it’s a strange thing to say given your condition, but you seem to be the most like yourself right now. I mean, the most like you used to be when we first met,” Omera amended.

“Yeah,” Cara agreed immediately. “It’s like your concussion returned you to your original state. Your good state. Don’t get me wrong, you’d been making progress lately but…”

“You became different,” Omera commented. “More distant. Harder to reach. And Grogu felt it, too.”

“You mean after my injury?” Din made sure, when he already knew the answer.

“After you were attacked and almost died, yes,” Cara added, banging her empty glass against the wooden side table with almost enough force to break it. “You didn’t give yourself enough time to heal, you were a mess. Everybody suffered, but you most of all. You’re your own worst enemy.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. It was pointless, but he still wanted to say it.

“That kid is probably the only reason you’re still here.”

“He managed to reach out to you when we couldn’t. When no one could,” Omera confirmed. “But it almost wasn’t enough.”

“Seems like I’ve got a lot to make up for,” Din said, and he wasn’t only talking about Grogu.

“Just the fact that you’re acknowledging it is a big step, you hadn’t reached that stage yet. But we were definitely hoping you’d get there in time.”

“I would have helped if I’d known you only needed to get your bell rung, happily,” joked Cara with a hearty laugh. She offered them more spotchcka but he and Omera declined. She shrugged and poured herself a shot.

“Last one,” she assured them.

Sure, it was good to know that he was more aware of what he’d done wrong and how he could fix things, but it didn’t change his current reality: he was missing two years’ worth of memories. The fact that Omera hadn’t found Cara’s statement funny told him she was of a similar mind. He wished he had the right words to ask her if she’d agree to start again. Was it too late, he wondered? Would she even consider it, when she knew so much about him already and he didn’t?

“How did it make you feel when you learned about what that Mandalorian did to you?” Omera asked with no hesitation in her voice – she expected a truthful answer.

And consciously or not, her question was worded like a test. He remembered failing those before. He was convinced he was going to fail this one again, especially when his scar started burning, and panic rose inside him. And then, just as fast as they had materialized, the feelings were gone. He’d acknowledged them – the terror, the pain, the guilt – and that was it. He inhaled slowly, expecting their return. Nothing.

At first, he attributed it to Grogu’s presence in his arms: he always seemed to emanate such calmness and peace. The he started wondering if maybe it was something in the air here. Something that could only be found on Sorgan. It would certainly explain why he’d been so afraid in the past to stay for long. The thought gave him pause – was that it? Was that why he’d been such a stranger? He’d been too scared to discover things about himself? Things that he wasn’t supposed to wish for? Like being Grogu’s father? Or letting people love him?

“Din?”

No more lies, he’d promised himself. Maybe it was something in the air. Or yet another side-effect from his concussion. Maybe it was just the liquor. But one thing was for certain – he’d changed. He still needed to determine whether it was for the better or not.

“I was horrified at first. About what he’d become and what he did to me to get the Darksaber. About what he forced me to do to protect Grogu. About who I became afterwards. But now…”

He let his eyes rest over the scant torches that people had lit around the village. Watched old couples go for an evening stroll. Parents calling their children to bed and the answering complaints. Laughter from farmers who’d also taken to their porches to enjoy a nightcap. So much life. So much joy.

“Now it almost feels like it happened to someone else. I can’t really explain it. It’s like I can look back on what happened differently, more clearly, because I’ve been through all of it once already. Does that make any sense?” he wondered, fearing he’d completely lost them. He’d only started realizing it as he was saying it – the shock of it all now hurt differently.

“You’re saying because you can’t remember things directly, it’s less painful?” Omera tried to understand.

“Like you’re detached from it?” suggested Cara.

“Yes,” he agreed, even if that wasn’t it exactly, because it had definitely felt painful enough at first. “I can understand how and why it changed me but I can also not let it define me completely because… Well, because it’s over. It already happened. Nothing I can do about it.”

“That sounds – ”

“Amazing!” Cara interrupted Omera, toasting them with her empty glass. “And surely that deserves another round of – ”

“No!” they both said in unison, and the former shock trooper grumbled.

“Maybe you really have changed,” Omera uttered after a beat, and he tried not to imagine the hope in her tone.

“So how long are you staying then?”

Din bit back a groan – trust Cara to always know where to strike first.

“I was thinking a few days if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Omera replied immediately. “You’re always welcome here.”

“I guess it’s a start,” agreed Cara.

“There’s still one thing I need to take care of.” Well, two, he acknowledged, to himself. “But I do intend to spend more time here next time, I promise. And now that I know you’ve got a hololink here, I can reach out more often as well,” he reasoned. If Greef could comm Cara, then surely he could do the same.

“Would you look at that? It’s like you’re actually using your concussed brain!” Cara mock-praised.

“Winta would love it if Grogu and her could communicate,” Omera said more levelly.

“And maybe I could call sometimes too,” he tried, and yes that was definitely the spotchka helping. Omera was kind enough not to take note of Cara’s guffaw and hummed in agreement instead. At least it wasn’t a no, Din thought.

As if the kid had somehow heard they were staying for a little while, he didn’t grip his shirt quite as hard when he shifted on his chair, and even offered him a contented, sleepy coo instead.

“That thing you still need to take care of… It’s what to do with all that Beskar, huh?” Cara guessed.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“I’ve been telling you for almost a year to do something about it already, but you won’t listen.”

“It’s not that easy…” he hedged.

“It is that easy. Forget where it’s coming from, your people need it.”

It wasn’t just the fact that it was coming from the Empire. Mostly, it had to do with how he had come across it. And what it had cost him to get it. What it had cost his friend.

“If you ask me, losing my sight but knowing that it means a bunch of highly skilled warriors will get virtually indestructible protection is a fair trade. Soldier to soldier, that armor is the best one could hope for.”

Din was amazed by Cara’s eloquence despite the quantity of liquor she’d absorbed. What she said made sense, and it was obvious she’d tried to convince him with a similar speech before, and he wondered why it hadn’t worked then. Because she was definitely making a compelling case to give it all to Wren for forging now.

“And what about that huge scar? Gonna do something about it too? Agree to go to Tatooine for treatment at the Palace like Fennec and Fett have been begging you to?” she added, undeterred – it was like she was ticking off items from an invisible list. But he guessed he deserved it.

“I don’t know, I kinda like that scar. Gives you character.” Din wished it wasn’t so dark and he could see Omera’s face. Her tone sounded playful and mildly inebriated but was there some truth to it? Sadly, before he could come up with a smart reply that would hopefully clue him in, Cara beat him to it.

“Forget it, then. Keep the scar, Djarin.”

They moved on to safer topics after that and Omera and him managed to convince Cara that they could get one last round of spotchka before calling it a night if she agreed to eat the food Omera had brought. Head pleasantly spinning – as opposed to concussed, for once, although Din wondered if it had been such a good idea to drink so much so soon – they left Cara on her porch and tried very hard to ignore her parting shot.

“Are you going to make him sleep in the barn, Omera?”

“We’ll sleep in the barn,” he assured her in a whisper – he didn’t want Cara to hear and make further comments or Grogu to wake up as he carried him.

“Compromise, sleep on the sofa. Your boy can share Winta’s room, she’ll be thrilled to find him next to her when she wakes up tomorrow.”

Din decided he was too tired and too tipsy to fight her on this. Also, it did sound like a pretty good compromise indeed.

He surprisingly didn’t have too many regrets come the next morning – he’d gotten used to pounding headaches after all – but he still gratefully accepted the caf Omera had brewed and Winta’s offer to give an overexcited Grogu his breakfast.

For the next three days, he agreed to the child’s every request. They swam, they hiked, they napped, they read stories, they ate – too much – and went on several jetpack rides – too fast. When he had time to himself, namely when Winta or her mother or Cara or other villagers requested their turn to make the kid laugh, he’d spend it fine tuning the rescued N-1 or daydreaming about a future where he’d be able to come here more regularly. He commed Karga in Nevarro and promised to visit soon. Peli in Mos Eisley who swore to him she had the right convertor this time and he should come pronto. Kryze on their base who urged him not to rush back if he wasn’t all better.

Din wondered if he’d ever be ‘all better’. During the quietest moments of the day, he’d sometimes get a flash of memory. More missing, disjointed pieces to add to his growing collection. Did it mean they would all come back eventually? Or should he assume most of it was lost forever? The idea used to terrify him, but here on Sorgan, not so much. There was nothing terrifying here, apart from his growing suspicion that Cara had been right all along: he definitely hadn’t forgotten falling in love with Omera.

When it came time to say goodbye, he was the one who reached for her first, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders.

“Come back?” she mumbled against his chest. “I’ve never asked you that before. But I think from now on we should tell each other things. We shouldn’t just assume. That’s the one thing to learn from all this.”

“I promise,” he vowed, and still wouldn’t let go, nose buried in her hair, captivated once more by what that fragrance allowed him to remember just for an instant.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, sounding a little worried.

“It’s your soap, I really like the way it smells, it’s nice,” he tried to explain.

“Oh well in that case, I can give you one to take with you,” she quipped, and pretended to let go.

“No, wait – ”

“The hug is nice, too?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Then just say so.”

“Alright,” he acknowledged with a smile, and was finally able to release her.

Once Grogu had also been hugged by virtually everyone in the village, they made their way to the N-1. The boy attempted to convince him he could do the take-off sequence, but this time he didn’t let himself be fooled.

“You can do the landing at the base,” he suggested instead, since it had a docking port, and the child didn’t stay mad long. There would be no stopping on the way this time: he was due a long and serious talk with a purpled haired Mandalorian armorer. He’d been putting it off for much too long. And he also had a Jedi Togruta to track down.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #cara dune #omera #sorgan #clan of two #baby yoda #amnesia #memory loss #star wars #vortex #my fics

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 22a

*Warning Adult Content*

MINE - Part 1

It could've been his mind playing tricks on him but Knox swore his heart had stopped beating the moment Everett passed out in his arms.

How they made it back to the clubhouse in one piece remained a blur.

Knox immediately called Keith, the club's doctor and requested an emergency meeting despite Everett regaining consciousness.

Knox wasn't fucking around about Everett's health, so he ignored the boy's claims that nothing was wrong with him.

Knox wouldn't rest until he got clearance from a medical professional that Everett was going to be okay.

"Keep pacing the floor like that and you'll end up walking a hole in it." Josie is leaning against the wall in the empty hallway, one hand on her hip and the other rubbing slow circles on her swollen belly as she watches Knox crack under the pressure. "Doc knows what he's doing, okay? Everett is going to be fine..."

"It's been forty minutes," Knox cuts her off, his voice gruff and strained with unnecessary worry. "What the hell is taking them so long? He didn't get shot or stabbed..." Knox continues to pace the floor, his mind ferociously taunting him by replaying the moment when Everett went limp in his arms. "He fucking fainted. People faint all the time, right? It shouldn't be a big deal."

Josie sighs and mumbles something under her breath but Knox ignores her.

His eyes remain fixed on his bedroom door, which is where Keith has been playing his role with Everett while utilizing Knox's bedroom as his own personal examination room.

The older man has been in business, private and never public, with The Fallen Angels for years, so the trust is there.

Everett is in good hands but that still isn't enough for Knox to completely dismiss the thought that Everett may be broken beyond repair.

"Fuck it," Knox mutters, dragging a hand over his face. "Five more minutes and I'm going in there."

"Knox..." Josie starts.

"I said what I said," Knox snaps and Josie shakes her head, laughing.

"You're being very telling right now. I hope you know that."

"I'm well aware," Knox says, unable to locate his poker face to pretend like nothing is wrong with him.

He can't help but be a little dramatic.

It's been a hectic fucking day with one crisis happening after another.

More fighting, more death and they're all still one step behind Ghost and Russell.

Makes perfect sense why the air feels too thick and why Knox's clothes suddenly feel too tight.

His tank is on empty and evidently so is Everett's.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you wear your heart on your sleeve before," Josie flashes an empathetic smile and pushes off the wall to place a comforting hand on Knox's shoulder when he paces by her.

He finally stops.

"What's really been going on between you and Everett? Because from where I'm standing, this is giving something that's way past the platonic stage."

Knox stares at her long and hard before answering.

"It's complicated."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure it's a lot deeper than that," Josie snorts but her heart aches for her friend.

She knows how much Everett means to Knox, even if he won't open his mouth to admit it out loud.

He doesn't have to because it's written all over his face right now, something his brothers would poke fun at if they were around to witness his current state.

"You like him, right? As in... romantically speaking?" she asks.

Knox remains quiet.

"Silence means yes."

Knox doesn't open his mouth to object.

"I fucking knew it," Josie grins, clapping her hands together. "Having a crush is nice but it's also terrifying, isn't it? Everything is all new and fun and hot but the real test comes when shit hits the fan for the first time but you two are already way past that stage."

Knox rolls his eyes, displeased with how exposed he feels.

"What are you getting at, Red?"

"Right. My point is that you and Everett have had one too many close calls here lately. Tomorrow isn't promised, so you should stop beating around the bush when it comes to your feelings. If you really care about him and it's obvious that you do, then you have to take a leap of faith and just tell him how you really feel before it's too late. You can't let him walk away when all this shit ends with The Jackals."

"Why can't I?"

"Because... you'll be miserable and left wondering what could've been. Doesn't that scare you?"

"No," Knox replies, feigning indifference. "He's much better off without me in his life."

"Oh, fuck off, That's a lie and you know it," Josie exclaims, scowling hard.

"That's enough, Red," Knox matches her blistering expression but she doesn't budge from in front of him.

She isn't afraid of him and he'd never harm her despite the dark look whirling in his weary grey eyes.

"I'm not in the mood to talk about this shit."

"Well, that's too damn bad because we're going there, so I'm only going to say this once, I don't give a shit what you think of yourself. I'm telling you what I know and what I know is that you deserve to be loved, Knox. I know you won't be able to live with yourself if you let that boy leave here thinking all he ever was to you was a job to finish, someone you had to protect because you couldn't let your enemies get a hold of him. You're better than that and we both know it, so don't bullshit me."

Knox exhales a shuddering breath as the knot forming in his stomach doubles in size.

Josie is right.

He can't keep holding back his feelings for Everett, can't go on lying to himself about not wanting the boy when in reality, he's already fucking claimed him.

After everything they've been through, Knox can longer imagine how it will look when the time comes for them to say goodbye to each other.

But, on the flip side, what Knox knows for certain is that now is not the time for him to drop a romantic confession.

As if he even knows how to.

They're in the middle of a damn war and the stakes have never been higher.

Not only that but Everett is set to go back to college soon.

Who knows what his plans are after he graduates.

It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things because Knox isn't going to insert himself somewhere that he doesn't belong.

Trying to form a relationship with someone who isn't part of the biker lifestyle may have worked out fine for Gavin and Josie but with Knox and Everett... Knox just can't see it happening, there are more cons than pros.

Knox has too much baggage and way too many demons following him around.

It'd be selfish of him to lock Everett into his chaotic world.

He would rather let Everett go to pursue his dreams and live a safe and happy life instead of dragging him deeper into the darkness that Knox has forced himself to grow accustomed to.

"Well? Do I need to keep preaching, or will you stop being a dumbass and follow my advice for once?" Josie teases and elbows Knox in the side, though her expression is the opposite of playful.

"Consider yourself heard. Can I go back to pacing now?"

[therecordingheart]

Angelic Beings

I often mourn my closest companion, Silent. Even as she sits beside me. I’ve experienced her sudden death, come by some violence upon her, in a real world that, from here, seems like a nightmare.

I’ve been in a form, one very much like the one I take here, that feels the pain of the absence of her being. I am at this moment a receiver and conduit of her spirit, shaken free by the destruction of her body, and also radiating from the angelic form that sways here, to my right, now, in this sleepy tea shop high above the world.

All of these feelings intertwine into a braid of energy, of experience, that I send like a prayer to my timeless, ecstatic self in the gazebo; the forefront of my collective consciousness.

I wonder if, there, I can make sense of any of it.

I don’t tell Silent that I have seen her death. I don’t speak about my visions. We aren’t supposed to have dreams, we Erimha, let alone peer across the manifold, seeing with the eyes of our other lives. We’re supposed to watch, and witness. That is what I've been told by my forbearers. I don’t know why I'm a little different than they are. 

Silent though, must know. She stares out dreamily across the circles, with a barely perceptible smile, and drones about her father’s ongoing infrastructure projects and political impasses. I know she doesn’t care about those things very much. Like me, she doesn’t tell the whole truth. We play a game, her and I, sharing clues instead of secrets. We do trust each other, so it isn’t about that. It’s more that both of us are aware, and compassionate of one another’s teetering over the very edge of madness. That’s what it’s like, for some of us, in this city. 

Silent hints about the little girl in the cell, one of the three sleepers in the vacuole of the Lightbringer facility. This is slipped between the troubles of the security shifts of the upper circles, and some of her father’s anecdotes about the relationship between antiquated Arcminorian culture and modern administrative policy and protocol. 

I ask her if she has ever seen the girl’s name anywhere, or the names of the other two sleepers. 

“No. She’s 2. That’s all I know. 1, 2 and 3. But she doesn’t belong there,” she says, sipping her tea. It’s too hot, and she winces, furrows her brow and turns to me. 

“What happens to tea,” Silent says “when you drink it?” 

I look down at my own tea. I can see the microns and molecules that make it; the taste, the timbre, the color, the energy. I take a sip, and for me, it’s also very hot, but I can drink it just like this. 

How does she know that the little girl doesn't belong?

“It goes right through, just like it does for you,” I say. 

How does Silent die? Why does Silent die? I feel those questions are a violation, in some way. A slight upon the life that I live now, and the one that has experienced those things. I ask those questions to myself, I think, because I don’t want to lose her again here. But whatever I would do in knowing more deeply about the other realities, would also be a violation of the words me forbearers shared:

"“This isn’t about you.” 

Still, when Silent goes to meet the mysterious stranger in some fringy outskirt of the slum sector, I wonder. She meets with him more often lately, and I’m sure she can sense the restraint I practice in my curiosity about her vanishings. One night, when she ends our music lesson early, I put down my instrument, and make a bold statement. 

“Let me come with you,” I tell her. 

For a moment, she stares at me still as a perched hawk, without betraying her innermost thoughts through her dark grey eyes. I can easily discern the unspoken thoughts and feelings of most human beings I meet, but Silent has always been able to elude me if she chooses. 

“Sure,” she offers evenly, distantly. “You’ll just have to keep it to yourself."

Of course. 

-

We gather our things, and make the strange journey from the second circle to the sixth. 

The late night journey to Silent’s meeting place was as treacherous as I had imagined it might be. We entered the 6th Circle by means of an unregistered taxi from the 4th, and walked through the gutted remains of an ironworks factory which lead to a loading dock that deteriorated into the back streets of the slums. From that point, our safety was not guaranteed.

As we picked up our pace, blackmarket gunsmiths marked our passage with interest from their alley shops; kishr addicts nipped at our ankles with their callused fingers and cursed us when we ignored them. And there was worse—but Silent moved through her secret paths in the liminal spaces of the northern slums like an synapse through a circuit. I followed, vigilant, but trusting her, as I do.

We enter an abandoned mansion near the northwest-most district of the 6th Circle. It was used in the distant past to host important figures for clandestine municipal plotting, according to Silent. The district is a quivering husk of itself now, haunted by scavenging shadows flitting about their secret lives under the upper circles. The walls that separate the slums from the wild wastes of Arcminor are porous here, though there is a system in place that keeps an order that the upper casiqs would envy. Some of the rarest, most expensive items and services begin their journey to the spirals of the wealthiest citizens of Arcminor right here, under the vigilance of gangsters and fences. 

Just beyond a dark reception hall that crumbled slowly into earth under our feet, inside the dim lamplit dining room of the old mansion, stands Silent’s mysterious acquaintance. He turns to the sound of our coming, a narrow swathe in dark clothing. Atop his long frame is a pale face peeking through a jagged black crownlike hat. His eyes are golden, flickering orbs, half hidden under black eyelids, that regard me with quiet curiosity. 

Silent glides ahead of me, and the being moves his eyes from me to her. 

“Erian, this is my friend and family mentor, Marcosias. Marcosias, this is my friend, Erian the Dim.” 

I step forward, increasing my reception of the light in order to see Erian more clearly. Both of us simultaneously raise our right hands in greeting. 

“You are the only human being among us,” I say to Silent, gently, after a moment. 

“Dirty angel,” she corrects me. “Marcosias, I perceive Erian as a tall man, with willowy limbs. His face, which is neither young nor old, seems painted on, like a performer’s mask. If I look more closely, it doesn’t seem like a mask anymore.” 

Erian takes a step nearer to us, away from the shadows that lead into the further portions of the mansion, towards the dining table, where a pair of tapers burn. 

“But, Erian is of the Dim, and the Dim are not of this world, or so I've come to understand. So, when you look at Erian, what do you see?” 

As I take a moment to reflect on the meaning of Silent’s words, I begin to allow new ideas to form as I behold Erian. He is not wearing black clothes, but instead, it seems as if he is composed of overlapping striations of twisting shadow. These shadows take on the shape of a limb, the torso, whatever part of his body I’m perceiving at the moment. Simple reflections on surface textures I had taken for his clothing moments before, now seem as a form of translucence. The movements of the shadow and that translucence are so swift and subtle that they create a blur. In a moment of pure curiosity, I step around the table and closer to Erian, listening, as I observe, with my resonant core, to a sound I can barely perceive coming from him; a hum—he is rippling with vibration. 

Erian’s shadowy crown, which before, was like the dark diadem on the head of jester, or strange king, twists over his head in a manner similar to his body. It’s as if his entire form is summoned, dripping down as streams of black cloud from the aether above us, undulating with its own sentience into the world, reaching towards its source, where it draws its power. 

His face, in contrast with this, is fractals of light, angling against one another into a cohesive form that is also shifting imperceptibly. Erian’s expression is a budding smile always on the verge of completion; a brow never fully set, a narrowing and widening of eyelids, as the platelets of light turn, join, separate, and explore the space that is his gleaming visage. 

Erian is a collection of forces and phenomenon of consciousness, presenting itself for the sake of the perception of the witness. In some way, he is not unlike me. What Erian is further than that, I don’t yet understand. 

“An angelic being,” I conjecture to myself, in earnest, for he can be nothin less. Erian seems to smile, but he had already been smiling; an expression he shares ever anew as he regards me with alien curiosity. 

“He doesn’t speak with words,” Silent says. 

“How’s it that you communicate with one another?” I ask.

Silent reaches out to Erian. Though she stands across the table, his arm stretches out for her, and his hand reaches hers. Silent regards this with eyes I have never seen her have, free of the usual obfuscation and her steely poise. Erian tilts his head to one side, and reflects this expression back to her. I recognize now, that there is something between them that is important and powerful. It’s the reason why she is here. 

“Emotion,” she responds. “His feelings speak to me. And he can hear mine.”

I wonder if I would need to touch Erian to understand his emotion, and through his emotion, his thoughts and intentions. Or, to share my own with him. With the Niru, this kind of communication was never much of a problem for me. Every movement, every sound that a human being makes emits cascading waves of information. There is a shorthand of language I receive from an individual, truths of their understanding and hidden desires, that they are often unaware of. When they communicate explicitly, it’s not only a response to their secret feelings, but a response and preparation for what they are anticipating from others. Barring Silent, and some few others, human beings are quite simple to understand. 

Erian was another matter. 

“He wonders,” Silent says to me, in a locked gaze with Erian, “if you’ll help us.” 

“Help you? Both?” I ask. 

“Yes,” Silent says. She releases Erian’s hand, and takes one of the candles up from the table. Erian quietly steps back, and curls into the darkness behind him, into the mansion proper. Silent follows, but turns to me before she vanishes down the hall. 

“Help us to free her.” 

“Her?” I ask. Though I already know.

“Yes. His child. The girl in the Lightbringer.” 

-

I find Silent in her apartment, gazing out of the window of her sitting room that overlooks the water. It’s one of the clearest, least obstructed views of the Pyrian Sea anywhere in Arcminor City. I would imagine that only the crow’s nests clinging to the side of the Lightbringer tower provide a better panorama. Though, I’ve never been there myself. 

Silent is dressed in what she calls her work armor. They are whatever clothes she believes will project a strong energy for her passages and conversations with the casiqs, merchants, and other powerful individuals of the city. She’ll be meeting her father today, who has, as of late, distanced himself within a deep sadness. But Silent has her mind on other things. 

“This will change everything, Silent,” I say, knowing that these words are unnecessary. As an extension of her will, I am obligated to share my doubts, just before I take the plunge that she will certainly ask me to take. She simply huffs softly, and smiles. 

“The fulcrum has already asked me about Erian,” I continue. 

“Oh?”

I tell her that the Erimha fulcrum has sought for, and gained access to my feelings, and to my will. It was unavoidable. She’s seen Erian’s face, and can decipher my simpler thoughts, as an extension of Silent’s, reaching out to the little girl in the vacuole. I tell her that the fulcrum has been curious about our curiosity, and our hidden will, and that like her and I, there are no secrets between myself, and the fulcrum. 

“Good. You tell the truth, Marcosias. I like you because you always tell the truth. Leave the lying to dirty angels”. 

I will. 

Where Erian is now, I don’t know. I didn’t need to touch his hand to understand that it would be some time before I would see him again. If I did, it would likely be only once, during the New Dawn Festival, five days from today. He would perform with his acrobat troupe, the Ghoul Vaults, just before dusk. At that time, what we planned will have been accomplished. After the performance, what Erian plans will begin. 

“There’s someone coming, Marcosias. Someone very important. He’s already in the territories surrounding the slums, and he’ll be through them soon. I’d like for you to meet him, and then bring him to me.” 

#agony #midjourney #ai art #therecordingheart #fiction #writers of tumblr

[wastefulreverie]

i’ve been thinking about this fanart lately

The kids of Casper High knew that not all ghosts were evil. Well, most of them. A few of the students were slow on the uptake, or just too stubborn to admit that Phantom did good for the town. The most notorious defender of the Fentons’ school of thought was Valerie Gray, who vehemently protested Phantom’s praise. Another was Wes Weston, who insisted that Phantom was deceiving them all, that he was really just the Fentons’ son fishing for attention. And then the Fentons’ son, Danny, well he agreed with his parents through and through. Many had tried to change his mind, but he stayed firm with his parents’ beliefs.

“I was thinking,” Paulina posed in English class one morning, “our class should put together a memorial or appreciation event for Phantom! He’s done so much for the town and for us.”

“Yeah, that makes total sense! He never gets the appreciation he deserves!” Dash agreed.

Paulina stood from her desk. “So, if we do this, we’re all down to make it happen, right?”

Around the room, there were affirmations of agreement. Sam Manson and Tucker Foley beamed from ear to ear, and even Lancer nodded his head in agreement.

Danny Fenton scoffed. “And what does a thing like that deserve?”

Paulina’s smile wavered. “He puts his life on the line for us, every day. I’d say that warrants some recognition. Even if you don’t think he’s sentient or has feelings, doesn’t mean we don’t.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Danny glared. “It’s just an unfeeling remnant of what was once human consciousness, slave to the whims of its obsession. If any of you cared to pick up a book or look at my parents’ research, you’d know that.”

“Well, maybe we don’t need to read to know that Phantom’s a good guy, Fenturd!” Dash snapped. “His actions tell us all we need to know, even if he does have an obsession.”

“Phantom’s a hero!” Kwan agreed.

The rest of the class chimed in agreement.

“Ugh, whatever.” Danny trained his eyes on his desk. “Just don’t get your hopes up if he doesn’t show.”

“Hmph. I’m sure he will,” Paulina dismissed. “Now, I was thinking we could hold the memorial at the park—“

Kwan found Danny Fenton staring at his reflection in the restroom. All the lights were off, and the only light in the room was from the narrow window near the ceiling. Even when Kwan moved from one side of the room to the other, Danny didn’t move.

It was strange, to say the least.

“Hey, Fenton,” Kwan said. “You good there?”

Danny broke from his stupor.

“Kwan?”

“Yeah, man. You were just staring off into space there.”

Fenton blinked. “Ah. I was just thinking.” He reached down to grab his bag. “See ya.”

Kwan surprised himself by placing his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Wait.”

Danny turned his eyes to Kwan’s and he felt his insides freeze. In the dim light of the restroom, Danny’s eyes had almost appeared green for a moment. It must have been a trick of the light because when Kwan looked again they’d returned back to their dull blue.

“I was wondering,” he started, “why you put so much faith in your parents’ research when you’ve seen Phantom’s good deeds, just like all of us. You were there when we took back that ghost ship trapping our parents, you must have seen Phantom! Isn’t that enough?”

“What I saw then, was a ghost,” Danny said coldly. “Unlike the rest of you, I know what ghosts are. I’m not so keen to forget because some ghosts have charisma, or whatever you think Phantom has.”

“We don’t trust him because of his charisma, we trust him because he’s a good dude! He saves people."

“So? Maybe he saves people, but that doesn’t change the truth. Phantom isn’t what you think he is.” Danny threw his backpack over his shoulder and moved to leave. The sudden motion made the hairs on Kwan’s arm stand on end. “He’s a monster.”

The bathroom door shut with a resounding slam.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Kwan #Dash Baxter #Paulina Sanchez #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Phicc #Phic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #wrwritings #for the fanart I linked at the top I really wanna credit the OP but I think they've deactivated bc I can't see who posted it #big sad hours #EDIT: OH JUST LOOKED ON MOBILE IT WAS SHRIMPNIPS #SHRIMPNIPS DEACTIVATED WTF NOOOO #!!??!!?! #Danny hating ghosts while being Phantom is such an underutilized angst trope ahhhhHHH #tfw your parents raise you to hate ghosts and once you die you're like 'cognitive dissonance' ??? hell nah i'm gonna hold on to what I know #not gonna update my beliefs at all i'm gonna to RIDE this train of self hatred bby #internalize that shit and tell your best friends that you're only doing it bc people will be less likely to connect you to your alter ego #they don't approve but shhhhhh it's fine. it's all fine. #Jazz finding out in this AU will also be a mess because imagine she's heard he brother agreeing with her parents about ghosts for the past #few months and then FINDS OUT and is like '.......................... danny no'

[guacomelon]

Ok for the sake of my sanity: if I say I'll do something, then automatically assume there's a 50% chance I will actually do it unless proven otherwise

#gm.txt #lately my consciousness has been all over the place and I do not trust what I say #gonna need to put a disclaimer on myself

[alwaysmarveling]

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse. 

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,”  you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you. 

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

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