#could you be deaf and be an agent? knowing that work is done in the dark and a lot of the time relies on being able to hear your team

[thethinkingcloth]

so is psychical ability at all related to physical ability? like, could a deaf person be able to Listen? could someone who needs glasses be able to See death glows clearly without them? is Touch restricted to hands or could someone who has lost a limb/never had one use something else to Touch? it’s heavily implied (and stated in the books) that Talent exists on a different level from regular senses (ex. lucy and holly looking for bobby at aickmere’s while also using their Talents to watch out for visitors), but do you have to have something to build off of to be able to use it?

[aealzx]

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Phantom Rogues (Prequel)

Next

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“Would yOU PEOPLE JUST LISTEN!”

Danny’s exasperated anger was punctuated by a sharp ecto shotgun blast into the nearest tank the GIW had amassed. They were still trying to destroy the Infinite Realms, new agents having convinced the older ones that the Infinite Realms being connected to their realm was a hoax to keep them from following through. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were all barricaded behind what remained of their equipment, so it was only Danny and Danielle who remained amidst this reality ripped in between the two realms that GIW’s stupid equipment had created. Yet once again Danny wasn’t able to continue his attack, getting cut off by a mostly startled scream from Danielle as they once again focused their fire on her. First it had been the humans of the team, now it was Danielle, and it was really starting to piss Danny off.

“Stop targeting her you sick bastards! She’s fourteen!” Danny belted, flying yet again between their weapons and Danielle, and blasting the cannon with a prolonged stream of ectoplasm to bend its course. They would soon shift it back to pointing at them, but at least that took a few seconds.

“So you claim. Yet the only thing it means for us is that she’s a liability for you. You’re the stronger one, but you’ll let your guard down for her. A pathetic imitation of humanity that may have won over the Fentons, but not us. We know you’re nothing but an imitation of humans made by nothing more than destructive residue.” That was Operative N, the new blood that had worked up the ranks. Danny liked to call him Nimrod.

“We’re not faking it!” Danny shouted back, feeling his voice crack with the desperate protest. “SOME ghosts are residue, but others are just as sentient and full of good emotions as humans are.” If only he could turn this stupid human into a ghost so he could see it too. But life, even stupid life, was too precious to waste just to prove a point.

“....Test run the experiment,” Operative N directed, unfazed by Danny’s outburst. The Operative next to him stepped forward as others to the sides of them started firing a barrage of ectoblasts their way. It was a distraction to keep their attention, Danny knew that. But Danielle still wasn’t as good as he was, and he didn’t miss the way the experimental blaster pulsed red instead of green. He couldn’t let Danielle get hit by that, so when she let out another yelped scream, getting hit by three ectoblasts, Danny flung himself into her when the other Operative took that as an opening.

The experimental blaster was faster than the originals, and Danny didn’t have time to bring up a shield after body slamming Danielle away. He could only tense in preparation for the damage, knowing he could handle more than Danielle could when it came to a beating.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The bloody red blast of energy wasn’t ectoplasm, and when it slammed into Danny’s chest his voice ripped from him in a startled scream of agony as he realized what they had done. The barbed wire poison splitting his ghostly skin held a familiar scorching dry flame feeling that he’d only experienced once before, a hand flying to his ribs as he crashed to the ground and couldn’t help curling into a ball, deaf to his friends’ and family’s cries for him.

Those freaks had weaponized blood blossoms.

It was worse than being trapped in a barrier of them, the poison now sank into his flesh instead of caressing it with noxious fumes. The fight wasn’t over though, so he willed his twitching limbs to work as he wanted them to, shoving them underneath himself to push himself upright, never mind the green blood dripping from his side.

“There we go,” Operative N commented emotionlessly, motioning with his hand to another Operative. “Use him now.”

That was the only warning Danny had before a clamp half his size snapped down on top of him, binding him in its case and pulling him from the broken ground. Danny let out a strangled noise as his arm was smashed against his injured ribs, legs scrambling to try and remain connected to the soil and feeling the anti ghost barrier keeping him trapped in the prickly bindings. It was only when he heard a slight click, and the fat needles poking into his skin started ripping energy from him that he vaguely remembered something about them using him as a battery for their machine. They obviously didn’t care how it treated him either, for Danny could swear getting electrocuted hurt less.

“Scream all you want, Phantom. Not even you could break out of there now that we’ve worn you down,” Operative N commented, having the audacity to sound bored.

Danny barely registered Danielle repeatedly sinking what power she could into the clamp that had a hold of him, but it didn’t seem effective. He hadn’t wanted to resort to blowing everything up, not sure what the machines would do to the realms they were connected to if they burst from overload.

But at this point he didn’t see any other option. If the realms were going to blow up, then he’d rather they blow up because he tried to save them.

If you want to hear me scream, then I’ll scream.

Danny’s defiant thought was accompanied by him forcing his mouth to snap shut, struggling with half stifled gasps to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold. It took a minute too long, but as soon as he maxed out the air he could hold Danny forced it out again in a drawn out wail.

Jazz had expressed before that she hated hearing Danny’s ghostly wail. She’d even commented that the name itself seemed like a pathetic attempt to calm the fears of children when stories were told about it. As Danny’s abilities had advanced the wail became less of a B movie imitation of ghosts and more of a source of nightmares. A distorted sound of burst eardrum silence smothered by shrieking similar to subtle tinnitus, but with the undertone of the voices of those who had died screaming.

Jazz always heard her brother’s voice over the others.

This was the first time Danny had fully figured out how to make his wail non directional. An orb of earth shattering sound rippling in waves from his form, crushing the machines around them like sealed cans dropped in liquid nitrogen. The only reason his allies weren’t hurt was because the waves were strangely more gentle in their direction, just enough that Danielle could hold a barrier over them while they pressed their palms to their ears, collapsing to their knees.

The wailing only lasted slightly less than two minutes, but the chain reaction explosions continued for several more. As soon as the device holding him was broken Danny let out a ripple of ectoplasm to shatter it. Then soft coils snapped out and wrapped around his allies, dragging them closer to his floating form where he could raise a shield around all of them.

Sam took charge of shielding Tucker and Danielle with her own body as realm rending explosions thrashed their tiny bubble to and fro. Danny was able to keep them from being thrown against the sides of the barrier, but none of them could even attempt to stand with all the vibrations of varying intensities. Jazz stole as long of a look at Danny as she could since she couldn’t do anything else, feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw the hole punched into the left side of his chest, blast marks searing out from it to cover his shoulder and nick his cheek. All of the wounds were oozing the green blood Danny had as Phantom, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

Another sharp, shuddering jerk signaled the end of their whirlwind ride, and suddenly the group had perfectly still, solid ground under them and silence ringing in their ears. It was deafening, in a good way compared to the wail from before, and Jazz heard the others mimic her shuddering breaths. But before she could visually check on her brother she heard him fall. Nothing like the exhausted drops he did when he couldn’t quite make it to the ground before letting gravity take hold of him again. It was the heavy crumple of a human body being dumped. And as Jazz snapped her head up Danny’s face fell into her view, his eyes closed and figure completely limp. Jazz watched his cheeks drain from color as a new spot of red bloomed across his white shirt, and her voice refused to speak.

Scrambling to her baby brother, Jazz cupped a hand to his cheek, horrified at the rapidly dropping temperature of his skin and using her other hand to shake his shoulder as roughly as she dared. Her voice found itself in moments to scream what had been repeating in her head.

“DANNY!”

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IIiiii am not immune to brain rot |D If you’re confused, good, I am too

Today my brain chose violence, and gave me some of the details of what led to the DP team getting ported to DC verse. So I wrote them while spamming the same 6 songs X’D And then I drew 2 pictures because I wanted both vibes.

This is getting way more attention that I even guessed might happen * wheeze *, so just a few disclaimers just so people are aware:

the DP crew are 2 years older than in the cartoon. because I can

Jack and Maddie are becoming really good parents. Because I’m tired of the “omg I’m a teenager and my parents suck” trope. They know Danny and Danielle are halfas, and it took them about a year to fully accept that. Now they’re rewriting studies to support sentient ghosts and more humane ways to deal with the violent ones.

It’s only in the recent months that they’ve started to actually study ways to help ghosts/halfas. So a lot of medical stuff for them is still unknown, but Jazz knows a bit more first aid than the average teen.

I’m not going to have romance at all. I find pushing the platonic boundaries way more fun and interesting. If you think it's romance, it's not.

I’m also more interested in Danny and Jazz’s sibling relationship than whatever either of them have going on with Sam and Tucker.

No update schedule. I follow the whims of my not normal brain.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch

[izvmimi]

katsuki wakes you up from your midday nap with his yelling.

it isn't exactly a rude awakening - you just turn with the sudden ruckus coming from outside your bedroom - but it's enough to cause you the tiniest bit of alarm, even if being together at home is the safest place you can imagine on this earth.

it's saturday evening and he thankfully will not be gone for patrol, so you could afford the extra time to sleep off a worsening migraine. you shift out of your bed, satisfied that a combination of ibuprofen and extra z's have done their work, and make your way out towards the source of the fuss. as you get closer, you're happy to know that it's nothing serious - rather katsuki is simply speaking at loud volume into his phone, presumably irritated, but not devastated by something.

he doesn't hear you coming as light as your footsteps are, and you stand at the doorway to observe him.

"what the FUCK do you mean 'there's nothing you can do'?! i spent hours making these arrangements and you expect me to just accept a gift card like my anniversary is replaceable?!"

you blink, suppressing a yawn still, and watch him. he's agitated and you're pretty sure he's justified, although it probably isn't great for him to yell so much, even if your ears are somewhat attuned to it given your many years together. it's not like when you met him he was exactly the stoic and silent type at all times, although he could be if he wanted to.

but why would you want him to be any different than himself?

you step forward after a few more moments of him hunching over, gritting his teeth as he hears whatever palliating excuses the customer service has on the other end, then press a hand to his shoulder. he stiffens - in fact, he almost pales at your touch and his voice drops nearly to half the number of decibels, a barely audible whisper. reassessing his anger, he nods to you, then to the agent he cannot see, and clears his throat.

"i'll be a little more uh..." he glances at you, and you're smiling at him, but you're giving him the look that pleads him to be nice, and he sighs, "judicious about my willingness to do business with you in the future, but i'll accept a gift card. for now."

with that, the conversation ends. katsuki looks red for a different reason, the gentle sting of embarrassment in his cheeks. you decide not to rub it in, and find a way to settle into his lap.

"what's going on, baby?" you ask. he makes a sound of displeasure, then adjusts your position balanced atop his knee, running a hand through his hair. he then looks at you again, appraising your own emotional state before deciding to change the topic. after all, it's probably best you don't know why he lost his temper.

"did you nap well?" he asks first, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

"not with you hollering," you tease as he lets his teeth graze gently on the skin of your collarbone. he looks up and frowns.

"was it that bad?" his voice is quieter now, lower. you tilt your head.

"you yell all the time. it's fine, i'm used to it. partially deaf at this point."

he frowns again, then mutters a "sorry."

your hand cups his chin. that one word is spoken too softly.

"hey, i'm not made of glass. speak up." you say, squeezing. he smiles, circling his own hand on your wrist before pulling it towards him to kiss the underside.

"sorry, princess!" he says louder, and you giggle, turning your head.

"what? can't hear you?"

he pulls you in and yells directly in your ear, and you scream, and he holds, both of you laughing together. once the two of you calm down, he sighs and leans back into the couch, making sure to take you with him so that you're resting on his chest.

he exhales deep and you wait, knowing he has more to say.

"you know," he starts, tracing circles into your palm, "i had an ex-" you bristle for a moment, and he grins at you, then kisses your forehead, "that thought i was too loud."

"loud, yes. too loud? i'm not sure," you reply.

he shrugs. "she would bristle any time she heard me talking. i would never yell at her, but i guess i scared her in some way just by the tone of my voice."

"mm." part of you wonder what they expected; he's always lived boisterously, with no pretense otherwise, but you keep mum.

"so i felt like i couldn't really be myself around them. obviously not the way i can be with you."

katsuki looks away from you for a moment and in space as though he is thinking, and then soon time is up, and his focus shifts back to you, giving you a cheeky grin.

"thanks for putting up with me," he says. again his voice is soft and quiet, because he addresses you with care, not because you've demanded him to adjust for you, but because he wants to.

you peck his nose. "well, when i go deaf in both ears, i'll reconsider."

he rolls his eyes playfully, and you pull his ear and yell, "i love you!"

he threatens to throw you off of him again, and you playfight until you're both rested on the couch, content in each other's arms.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

"MAYBE WE COULD HAVE DINNER"

Pairing - Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary - With your cooperation being over, it's time for that dinner date Lenny promised.

Warnings - semi-public sex, fingering, voyeurism, dub con, controlling.

Word count - 2.3k+

“Maybe we could have dinner”

As if that would be an option. CIA agent Lenoard ‘Lenny’ Miller was a man that always got his way. He always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. Lenny was pleased to discover you when you became a prime suspect for the assassination of a German politician. He became eager to have you in the palm of his hand. And it was easy catching leverage on you. You didn’t want this life, you wanted a normal life. And you were almost free of it. Now you just fell from one pair of hands to another. Lenny was a nice handler to you however. He gave you the resources you needed and didn’t put all that pressure on you. The only issue was that he was possessive over you, he had to know what you were doing at all times. You thought it was bullshit that you had to stay in the same lodging or connecting hotel rooms as you. “I just want to look after you” he claimed. 

There was a lot of tension between you two. He watched you as if he was eye fucking you. Lenny’s thumb would brush over his lips a lot when you gave him reports. Don’t mention how he was always checking you out, sometimes he would even touch you ‘harmlessly’. To fix up your shirt or to get past you it would seem to the blind eye. It was nothing you weren’t used to. Just all a part of the job, you would tell yourself. It surprised you with how he just didn’t take you, claim you, fuck you. He was professional though, he wanted the work done first. Business before pleasure after all. 

But business is over now and Lenny didn’t hesitate to jump straight into pleasure. 

The choice of restaurant was exactly how you expected it. A five star restaurant in a high rise building. A small orchestra performing classical music by the over the top water fountain. There was no coincidence that your reservation was an isolated, dimly lit booth. Just your luck. You hoped Lenny was a respectable man. 

You were wearing a strapless black sequin mini dress, accompanied by black heels. A couple of silver rings on your fingers, Finished off with a matching set of silver threader earrings and lariat necklace. He brought you the whole outfit. With the excuse that tonight was a special occasion and he thought it would look beautiful on you. He wore a typical black and white suit, hair styled the same. It looked good on him, obviously. 

Lenny loved to ramble on. Gloating on all of his accomplishments over the years. The way he talked was seductive however but you refused to fall for his act. Half of his stories fell deaf onto your ears throughout the expensive and exquisite courses of foods you’ve never even heard of before. You would merely chuckle at a random sentence and have another sip of champagne. 

“Anyways, that’s enough about me. Tell me more about you” 

You knew he just wanted to fuck you. But it would just make him look sweeter this way. Taking you out for a fancy dinner, asking you about your hobbies and dreams. He was extremely charming nevertheless. Too charming to be a CIA agent, that’s for sure. But he was a bit too old for your style, it intimidated you a lot. You were used to guys your age, but you hardly got around to fucking people anyways. Only a couple of guys over the years, you like to think that you put your line of work first and you were always working. The only older guys you would flirt with on assignments were creepy perverts. Luckily you never had to go to the extent of fucking. 

The expensive champagne made his voice seem like it would taste like sugar and honey. He spoke in such confidence, the way the words would come off his lips so relaxed and calm. His eyes spoke louder than his words however. They were dripping with desire. He would be analysing your every move. How your chest would raise when he would ask you of your childhood or how relaxed you would become when he would make you laugh over something silly. His body language also said a lot. He was leaning closer to you, but kept a short respectable distance. 

The rim of the whisky glass rested at his lips as he watched you play with your food. You didn’t like to eat much, or you still didn’t feel comfortable around him. Lenny finished his whiskey and waved his hand to the waiter for another. The buzz of the champagne distracted you, when you looked back over to Lenny he slid down the booth right next to you. 

“By the way, I’m very proud of you” he said controlled, but his captivating blue eyes, they said a lot. “For your cooperation and excellent work. You helped me out a lot” he added, his left hand resting on your bare thigh and right hand wrapped around your back keeping you close. “I hope this dinner can show my gratitude” he whispered, his left hand trailing circles on your skin. You took in a sharp breath from his actions, feeling the goosebumps rapidly spreading. “Are you enjoying yourself? I figure you do this a lot, go to fancy dinners and drink overpriced champagne that always tastes the same. But I would like to think that our date is a bit different. This is pleasure, not business after all” he said with ease, his hand raising up your thigh. 

“Still feels like business to me” you scoffed, eyes darting around to see if anyone is watching, but you were in the clear. 

Lenny laughed quietly and leaned closer to your ear, his hand gripping onto your inner thigh. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to” he snorted. 

Bullshit. You were still under his order. But then yet again, you didn’t turn down his offer of dinner. So you will never really know if there was a choice. His fingers rub against your covered pussy. You knew you were going to get fucked by him tonight, but you didn’t think it would make such a slutty move here. He was a CIA agent after all. Lenny lets out a distasteful sigh, he really hoped you went bare. You were grateful there was a long black table cloth covering this assault from the public eye. But everyone would be too focused on themselves to notice you anyways. 

It was hard, pretending that you didn’t enjoy his touch. But you still had a bit of dignity left. You took another sip of your champagne, his chin rested on your shoulder as he continued to stroke your core. Your skin quickly heated up and your thighs began to tremble. The waiter came back with a new glass of whiskey for Lenny. But he went unnoticed by Lenny, as he was occupied assaulting your bare neck. His jaw was clenched and eyes locked onto you, fucking perv. But he wouldn’t dare to say anything, this probably happened a lot around here. Lenny will just have to cough up a generous tip. 

“Would you like any desserts?” he asked finally, eyes stuck on you still. You kept your face pointed away, extremely embarrassed by the situation. 

Lenny sat up straight and sighed, his arms returning to his sides in the process. “Darling?” he asked you innocently, looking at you. 

“No thank you” you mumbled, just wanting the waiter to fuck off. He’s probably resisting not rubbing himself off. 

“Just the bill please” Lenny grinned. 

When the waiter left, Lenny returned to his previous position. He kissed your neck and jaw. A soft whimpering moan left your lips as he stroked your sweet spot. He chuckled by your ear, a finger slipped past your thong and right into your canal. Your cheeks were so flustered, you were grateful for the dim lighting. The last thing you needed was Lenny to see how overwhelmed he had gotten you. But he already knew that, as he could feel the heat on your cheeks and how you were shaking down there. You shuddered when his free hand grabbed the side of your face to bring you in closer. 

“Are you not enjoying this?” he asked, offended by your response. You didn’t reply. “If you want me to stop, you just have to ask” he teased. 

There were no tricks. All you had to do was say “stop”, so why couldn’t you? It had been a while, feeling a man's touch. And you would be lying if you told him that you weren’t enjoying it. And you would be lying even more if you didn’t develop an eccentric ‘little’ crush on him. Even though Lenoard Miller was an manipulative, arrogant asshole who blackmailed you into working for him, he was fucking gorgeous. He had the most mesmerising side profile you have ever seen. You’ve never been with someone this older than you however. It would be daunting knowing how extremely experienced he was. You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, how could you look at him the same way?     

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he laughed, a second finger pumping inside of you now. 

You didn’t. 

“You like this mhm? My fingers deep inside of you while we are at a fucking restaurant? I knew you’d be a dirty little whore. Female killers always are, craving a powerful man’s dick so fucking bad. You type of girls always just need someone to show your place. And you belong under me. You got that?” he growled, holding your face close to him while his fingers were still deep inside of you. 

“Y-yes sir” you whimpered, a heavy gulp followed. 

It was crazy how accurate he was. You did crave that, despite how much you ignored those feelings and thoughts, to be underneath someone. You liked being controlled, you liked not having the options of choices in your life. It was all you had ever known after all. It was all a pretence, a strong independent woman who could always defend herself. You didn’t want that life, it was so exhausting. This is common though, all female assassins have major daddy issues. 

You both heard the waiter cough to get someone’s attention. Lenny grumbled, his clean hand slipped into jacket pocket and he threw his wallet towards the waiter. Moans started to viciously leave your lips as his fingers pumped in and out of you faster. Your head fell onto his shoulder, one hand holding onto his opposite shoulder around his back and the other hand gripped onto his upper arm. Lenny laughed and leaned you both back in the booth seat. 

“Come on, don’t be greedy. Give me a rub sweetheart” he sneered, nuzzling your forehead.

Your hand hesitantly fell from his arm to his crotch. It was shocking how thick he felt. It seemed to be as hard as cement somehow. Your palm rubbed him through his trousers. A groan slipped from his lips and he kissed you intensely. His tongue slipped down your throat before you could even fight his tongue off. You moaned into his hot mouth, his fingers travelling deeper inside of you. Your hand gripped onto the outline of his cock, kneading him in unison of his pumps. 

You tightened around his fingers. Lenny knew you were about to fucking orgasm. He slid in four fingers, you almost screamed. Your mouths separated, both panting. “Does my baby need to come?” he teased, pace slowly down. 

“Ye-yes, please Lenny. Please!” you begged, kissing his neck desperately. Your hand tried to slip into his trousers but the belt obstructed the access and you were too frustrated to undo it. Lenny chuckled, slowly picking up his pace again. 

“Who do you belong to?” he asked blankly, staring at you with dark eyes. 

“You, I-I belong to you” you cried, your hips rocking on his fingers since he wasn’t doing good enough for you at the moment. 

“Such a needy little slut” he grinned as he returned to give you the satisfaction you desired. The satisfaction you needed. “You ready? To come all over my hand?” he smirked, all four fingers deep inside of you. His knuckles started to slip inside of you as well, his thumb rubbing your clit perfectly. You clenched around his hand, you were a whimpering mess. “Kiss me, I would hate for you to get everyone’s attention from screaming”.

You did as he said. It was good advice, because he hit your sensitive spot right after. You moaned into his mouth again. Greedily, you stopped touching him as you were completely focused on yourself. 

You were breathless as you were coming undone your handler’s hands. Your face fell forward, biting onto Lenny’s shoulder as your cries muffled out against Lenny’s shirt. He hissed, but he was grinning at the same time. You humped onto his hand, riding out your climax to its full extent. As you finished on him, your body went limp onto him. He was so fucking intoxicating.  

His soaked hand slipped out of you. Looking at his sticky fingers briefly, he sucked them clean, moaning in the process. You held onto his body tightly, panting like you had just run a marathon. Lenny planted a soft kiss to your heated forehead as he picked up his whiskey. He noticed the bill and his wallet back on the table and smirked to himself. He downed his whisky in one hit. 

“Come on, I’m not done with you yet” he whispered into your ear, you nodded your head softly realising that your night is far from over.

[northwyrm]

Happy STS! Can you tell me more about your Agent Fella? Fun facts and all :)?

Before either of them could reply, they heard someone in the corridor clear their throat. They turned, and saw an Institute Agent. Well… not quite an Institute Agent. The Agents tended to be all the same height and build, with little in the way of hair, and an inhuman quality about their movements. This person stood nervously, almost sheepishly. He wore the sharp black suit, yes, and the dark sunglasses, yes, but he looked more like a man dressed as an Agent than an actual Agent. “I’m uh, here for the, uh…” “Oh god!” said Trixie covering her mouth. “Ugh I’m so sorry Hugh, I completely forgot we had an appointment!” “Oh it’s fine Trixie, I know we’re understaffed…” She smiled gratefully. “Thanks. Here are your assignments,” she said, gesturing at the other two people in the corridor. “I’ll leave you to guess which one is an undead creature of the night and which one is the scientist.” “Uh,” She pointed at Victor and mouthed ‘vampire’. “Ah, yes. Sorry. Hi guys, I’m Agent 64.” “Uh, hi,” said Harriet. “I’m a Secret Agent in Training!” said Agent 64 proudly. “Once he masters not yelling out his profession to the public, we’ll get around to making sure he doesn’t crack under torture.” Said Trixie with a wink. Agent 64 blushed with embarrassment. “He’s here to help you two with your main job of trying to get all the vampires rounded up. He has a van-driver’s license so you can kidnap people to your heart’s content in an unmarked van. We are a secret government organisation after all.”

Agent 64 is an Agent working for the Institute. Most Agents are clones (which is why they look similar) all raised on the secret base on the moon, while Agent 64 was born a normal human baby and grew up like the rest of us. When an alien spacecraft crashed into his street as a child, he saw the Institute Agents talk to all the grown-ups in his life and assure them it was a gas explosion. He was AWED by the way they seemed to just take their sunglasses off, look someone in the eye and say "that is not a giant spaceship" and they just BELIEVED whatever the agents said.

From then on, he made it his lifelong goal to become an agent. He has now been an agent for over 20 years. He has gone non-contact with his family as they didn't accept him coming out as gay as a teenager, but he lives happily with his husband Fred and is involved in Fred's extended family, learning British Sign Language to help communicate with Fred's deaf niece.

NONE OF THIS actually comes into the story. In Bloodmood he's one of the main 4 but as he's not done heinous amoral things (looking at Harriet and Victor...) or huge morally questionable things (looking at Trixie) and he's just a happy little fellow that loves his job, he provides a nice contrast. Everyone is having 8 types of drama at a time and Agent 64 is just in the background pottering about.

I like to drop references to his outside life: he mentions Fred now and then, and Trixie knows him as 'Hugh' and sometimes lets slip this name instead of 'Agent 64'.

He is also canonically Pure of Heart and some cryptozoologists use him as unicorn bait at one point.

[dalekofchaos]

Sean and Daniel should have been able to clear their name

Thinking about LIS 2 again and how unsatisfied I am about the endings.

None of the endings are good in my opinion.

Redemption is just soul crushing. Sean goes to jail for 15 years for a crime he didn't even commit. Sean’s life in Prison for 15 years would’ve been an absolute living hell. Not only was 15 years of his life taken from him, but he literally went through hell and there is no telling how brutal his time in prison could’ve been. Especially since he was labeled as a cop killer.

For a long time I believed the best endings were Parting Ways and Blood Brothers and thought Redemption did more harm than good. Now I feel like it's the opposite.

Escaping to another country sounds like a good plan, but there is something called extradition treaties; and the US & Mexico has had one for for a long time. More than likely US authorities are waiting on Daniel to turn 18 so that he can't use the "I'm a minor, you can't charge me" defense. No doubt the brothers are about to get raided as soon as Daniel turns 18. They either get to Cuba or they are going to lead a life constantly on the run as every continental country in Central & South America has an extradition treaty as well.

In the case of Parting Ways, Daniel will be under house arrest as they raid Puerto Lobos and extradite Sean while Daniel has to live under house arrest knowing there is nothing he could've done to save Sean.

And Lone Wolf has Daniel treated like a literal villain.

So unfortunately Redemption is the only ending where anyone is close to happy. Sean does his time to protect Daniel and sees Lyla again. Daniel lives a happy life in Beaver Creek and while Sean carries trauma with him, he gets to live and be free.

And don't get me started on how morality plays into the endings.

High Morality ending result in Sean either spending 15 years in prison or the brothers being separated in America. But the low morality ending results in the brothers together as criminals or Sean dead in Mexico? Why is staying in America painted as a moral ending, but choosing to stay in Mexico, the goal of the game is considered the immoral ending? Like, Mexico is not a guaranteed ticket to being a criminal. Wouldn't it make more sense for high morality to lead to Sean clearing his name? Very tone deaf DONTNOD.

But that out of the way, here is why we should've gotten the opportunity to gain the Diaz brothers freedom.

Redemption Ending, while tragic is a good ending. and it got me thinking afterwards about the actual legal implications of Sean's actions, and a 15 year jail sentence (shortened I assume for good behavior) seems quite extreme.

I imagine that it would be very difficult for the prosecution to prove without reasonable doubt that Sean killed the police officer in Seattle. If he surrendered immediately in Chapter 1, he could just say there was an explosion which knocked him unconscious and he doesn't know what happened. The police have no proof or physical evidence linking the death to Daniel and I imagine that any competent lawyer can get the brothers acquitted for the officer's death.

Now I know that Sean was just a kid who watched his father get murdered and panicked, so I understand why he ran, but running away made everything worse. By selecting moral choices, in the end my Sean was really on the hook for destroying the hotel room, grand theft auto, working on a pot farm, and trashing the police station (Karen took the blame for the church fire). I didn't assault the shopkeeper, didn't murder Lisbeth or Merril, and a 15 year jail sentence seems crazy to me and undermined what was otherwise a great ending.

So there are two ways I'd do this.

Having Sean go back after the conversation with Brody or contact Agent Flores when David suggests he turn themselves in.

Option 1.

In my opinion the game should've gave us two paths regarding what you say to Brody in episode 1.

Go to Puerto Lobos. Same game as before

Clear your name. After talking to Brody, he takes you to the police, but still stay at the motel. Sean tells Daniel the truth and in episode 2 is about Sean preparing for the trial. Daniel is sent to Claire and Stephen. Episode 3-4 is the trial and episode 5 is the conclusion. The smoking gun is Brett and Daniel, Brett revealing he was an asshole who got their father killed and Daniel revealing(privately) to the judge, Flores and lawyers his power. Sean is cleared and the choice would be

Return to Seattle

Go to Beaver's Creek

Go to Puerto Lobos

Option 2

Twos scenarios would be given to us. Continue the story we got or take David’s advice and make contact with Detective Flores and tell her he can explain everything. So we have a trial. Tell that their asshole neighbor Brett was harassing Daniel and Sean came to his rescue. After the fight ended badly, the officer came on the scene and explain that when Esteban was trying to defuse the situation, the officer shot their father and this set off Daniel’s powers and caused the incident. Shockingly, Brett is alive and comes forward as a witness. Telling everyone Sean and Daniel are telling the truth and that he was just being an asshole. Then Sean and Daniel requested a private audience with the judge, Agent Flores and the attorneys. Daniel displays his powers and Sean explains that when the officer shot their father it triggered his powers, went off in the hotel, pot farm and other unexplainable events. Everyone is in shock, but the judge requests everyone keeps this under wraps. And it ends with the jury announcing. “We find Sean and Daniel Diaz Not Guilty” Sean cries tears of joy and embraces Daniel and Karen, Claire, Stephen and Lyla all come forward to hug Sean and Daniel. The Wolf Brothers are finally free.

Final ending would be between where we choose to go. Return to Seattle, return to Beaver Creek, return to Away with Karen or go to Puerto Lobos.

Flash forwards shows the brothers returning to Beaver Creek. Daniel growing up happily with Chris and Sarah Lee at his side and Sean reuniting with Lyla. In one of the flashes we would see a big Birthday celebration for Sean and we would see Sean, Daniel, Karen, Claire, Stephen, Chris, Jake, Sarah Lee, Lyla, Finn and Cassidy together celebrating Sean’s birthday. We would also see Sean and Daniel’s individual graduations. And as for the ending I guess we could have either Sean and Daniel living happily and free in Beaver’s Creek, Sean and Daniel returning to Seattle or Sean saying goodbye as he leaves for Puerto Lobos with whoever you romanced and if you romanced no one, Sean would leave with Finn, Cassidy or Lyla to Puerto Lobos(Parkaz is the hill I am dying on)

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 153

Hi people, it's time to do an update on this week's writing progress. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 2 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 23rd of November. Chapter 3 is finished and will be posted on 30th of November aka next Thursday. Chapters 4 and 5 are also finished :D

Originally this was supposed to be a threeshot, but chapter 3 got so long that I cut it into two chapters, and chapter 4 reached the desired word count perfectly naturally, so it was clearly a necessity. Chapter 5 just kind of wrote itself, it's a shorter epilogue chapter that the fic didn't really need, but now that it's there it perfects it, so turns out the fic did need it, I just didn't know it. Anyway, it's all written now and only needs to be posted.

—–

I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will have at least three chapters, maybe four, maybe more (if I decide I actually want to do more with this concept than my initial idea, because the potential is there). The second chapter is almost done. The first chapter is now about 1/3 done.

I'm actually not sure if this fic will end up being Stobotnik aside from Stone being Big Gay as usual, cause Robotnik is being very aroace right now and I don't know if he'll give Stone a chance or not, as that is not really the point of the fic. We'll see how this shapes up.

—–

SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or I might cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon, so you know, could easily have two fics.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

I have the first three chapters completely written now. Chapter 4 is half done. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

It was a perfectly average day at Doctor Robotnik’s laboratory. No business trips, no missions, no field tests, nothing but staying at the lab. Stone’s workday would be from ten to six, he’d do his usual everyday work, no meetings scheduled, no presentations, no visitors, no deadline crunches.

Simply a regular Thursday.

Except it was going to be anything but.

When Stone came in for the day, the lab smelled off in a way that was hard to define. Curiously, he walked up to the big crossroad that divided the lab building into two distinct halves and sniffed the air, pinpointing that the smell was coming from the left corridor, which meant the origin was likely the testing lab. Upon entering it, he could immediately see the cause of the smell: the large steel glass cabinet where the doctor tested various weapon proofnesses of his prototypes was covered in soot, metal bits, and chemical splatter. In short, the machine he had worked on yesterday when Stone clocked out had exploded upon testing.

Stone cringed in sympathy. That was days of careful work gone up in smoke just like that. At least he hadn’t been here to get yelled at for it.

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[sasaleleselfships]

Master Chief x Genfl!Reader

Chapter One; Meeting The Chief

I Won't - AJR

In retrospect, maybe they shouldn’t have abandoned the rest of her group to eat in the tech lab, let alone one that didn’t really belong to them. [Name] was surprised Halsey was even allowed to continue working as a developmental head after all she had done in most recent years. Still, that didn’t keep the elderly self entitled civilian consult from slithering her way into the laboratory just as [Name] was taking up a spoonful of their soup.

She didn’t notice them at first, which [Name] was silently thankful for. However there was a pause in her rummaging and suddenly they became all too aware of the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallways, metallic pedes pressing against the floor and causing a slight shake in the beakers in the table. Looking up enough to see a broad shouldered woman in bulky white armor enter the room, it didn’t take long for [Name] to feel the discomfort stirring in her stomach as she jotted down her notes from the Trojan meeting earlier.

Sinking to the floor from her seat, the agent simply rubbed her nose and silently prayed that they’d leave them be. Too much work to do, and too little time to think about it-… god knows when her team gets back from break they’d be on her case about the new designs for the Energy Surfers. Turning just slightly, [Name] rolled her lips between their teeth as their eyes ran over the Spartan, a pale woman with dark hair, darker eyes.

“Lastly had us to deploy to Eridanus… back when the… are you sure… keep in mind this is… when we got lost…” Their conversation was lost on [Name].

Pen scratches against paper as they turned back around, holding their notebook against her knees while her other hand would occasionally lift the warm spoon back up to her lips, after the pinch of hunger in her stomach reminded them of the task at hand.

“I have plans to work with Faulkner regarding his patents in transferable consciousness,” Halsey admitted quietly as another set of heavy footsteps approached and entered the lab.

“How do you know he will be inclined to…”

Nodding quietly to the soft melody being streamed in their head-… not literally, mind you-… [Name] hummed in a short whisper while they wrote everything they could think of as far as formulas for the anti-seizing serum Laurentius had mentioned patterning. The words exchanged between Halsey and the Spartan were cast upon deaf ears as the agents eyes remained glued to the page.

The quiet bliss of mental solitude, however, didn’t last long as suddenly their soup was knocked carelessly to the side. With no time to be irritated or pressed, [Name] cried out as she was lifted suddenly from her collar, a hand shooting around to grip whatever had caught her uniform.

“You have a shadow.” Came the deep voice of another Spartan, one clad in heavy green armor, yellow visor hiding any and all expression as [Name] dangled in his grasp. The sound of a heart pounding in their chest was all she could hear as she suddenly reached back, clawing at the man’s hand as Halsey took a few steps forwards before crossing her arms over her chest. For a few moments, [Name] felt the dread pool in their stomach as the woman’s lips pulled into a thin line, and only when she finally smiled did relief hit her in the gut.

“She’s been here the entire time, was here when I first came in. I assure you she is not a threat.” While grateful to be spoken for, [Name] still struggled against the Spartan’s grasp before suddenly tugging his hand, and a small sleeve appeared over her hand. It was Kelly who had reacted first, urging the male Spartan to put the agent down. He didn’t get the chance though, as a sudden pulse ran through his body after being conducted by the suit; He had been shocked.

Dropping the girl more out of surprise than in pain, the Master Chief looked down at his hand as [Name] stumbled slightly before steadying herself against the table. Only then did she release the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding the entire time, her wide eyes moving to their journal on the floor as they bent to grab it, stealing it against their chest before looking bat at Halsey. Not once did they take their back from the table, not giving them the chance to get behind her again.

“I tried to warn you, Chief.” Kelly called.

“What was that?” Halsey was the first to ask, beating Master Chief to the punch as she came close to the agent. Only when she put her hand out in a firm manner, a silent threat to do it again, did the woman step back and out her hands up in defense. “I mean no harm, I’m only curious is all. It must’ve took quiet the electrical current to dissuade John here.”

[Name] stated for a few moments before looking at the perpetrator. She knew him well; The Master Chief. Hell, if you didn’t know him then you were either a fool or a traitor, maybe both. The weight of her actions suddenly weighed heavy on their mind, and Halsey could tell as she watched the blood drain from their face.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Won’t you?”

The Master Chief gave a quietly grunt in response, though that didn’t make [Name] feel any better. She was already on a lot of different peoples shit lists, she didn’t need to be on his too-… Not with his reputation at least.

“It was uh… just a shock. My team and I-…”

“The Trojans.” Halsey butted in.

“Yes, we are primarily stealth operatives. We weren’t trained to fight one on one, or any sort of major field work. That was kind of one of you defenses.”

“A pulse strong enough to shock a Spartan in armor like theirs? Did your Faulkner think my people were to be viewed as threats?” Halsey asked.

“No-… um, it’s for anything; I think he primarily had the Lekgolo in mind, just in case we ever-…”

“In case my kids were ever in danger, I installed multiple systematic escape assistance trigger in both their suits, and uniforms. That’s why I urge them to wear one of the other at all times when in a place not quiet belonging to us. Of course my kids are cocky, and vain, so they don’t listen to me, but it gets the point across.” The proud voice of Laurentius rang through as each of the four in the room turned their heads to the tan skinned scientist, his eager grin doing nothing for Halsey’s ego. “Though should one of mind need to go up against your machines, I did make sure they would have all they need to escape-… Escape, not fight. I’m not dumb enough to assume my… geeks, could stand up about your brutes.”

“Faulkner, a pleasure.” Halsey smiled quietly as Kelly excused herself to be with the others, though Master Chief remained at her side. Reaching out a hand to greet the man, Catherine practically beamed as he took to her, shaking her head before continuing. “It’s been a long time.”

“In deed it has, shame it wasn’t longer.”

It was no secret that Laurentius had assisted Halsey with the Spartan II program, and ditched only halfway through due to his questioning of her humanity. Forming the Trojans was like a slap in the face to her debatable morals, and all the sudden all the lights were on.

“John, you’re dismissed.” Halsey called with a short sigh, knowing already that this discussion would take them in circles.

Laurentius thought much of the same as he turned to [Name] and waved a hand, wordlessly bidding her adieu. She paused, gesturing to Master Chief ad he walked towards the door, mouthing for him to let her stay. They didn’t want to walk out and be alone with that… thing. Still, Faulkner was firm in his ministrations as he suddenly cleared his throat making [Name] flush in embarrassment.

“With the Master Chief, [Last Name].” Faulkner smirked, and suddenly their jaw went slack as the Spartan in questioned paused to turn back to them.

For fucks sake.

There was no other response aside from quiet grumbling as [Name] suddenly turned and shuffled out of the lab, Master Chief moving slowly behind them as her hands wrung their journal. The hall was long and there was not a lot on this floor of the facility aside from the lab. She could turn down an external corridor and pretend she had something to do there, but that most likely would lead them to a dead end. Still, it would probably buy them some time away from the metal monstrosity tailing her.

“The a-chem locker room is the next right, if you need a moment to stop shaking.” His voice shouldn’t have shaken them like it did, but it was deep and it was smooth in ways that were hard to ignore. Slowing down just a bit, [Name] finally took note of her shaking hands as she took a sharp breath, guilt sending a shutter down her spine.

“Am I on your shit list?” [Name] blurted suddenly, unaware she was actually speaking until they had already said it. Their eyes went wide as they processed their words, lips parting in horror.

Master Chief slowed down, too, hands that were previously clenched now relaxed at his sides. A short exhale, what sounded like a fault chuckle could be heard but only for a sliver of a second. “I don’t have a shit list.”

He didn’t usually curse, but in this scenario he felt it proper to mirror their own speaking.

“The entire covenant is on your shit list.” [Name] corrected with a cut off breath as they approached the lift, watching the doors slide shut to take a group up before them.

“Are you with the covenant?”

“No.” [Name] answered.

“Then you’re not on my shit list.” Master Chief finished with a subtle hum in his voice, nose crinkling just slightly behind his visor. A sigh left their body and suddenly she became aware of just how much larger the Spartan was in comparison to her.

A semi-comfortable silence filled the space as the lift doors reopened and suddenly [Name] shuffled inside, glad they hadn’t ducked off down the hall. Once they were inside, she was able to properly appreciate the detail in the Spartan’s armor as she examined him quietly, though passed it off as confusion as her face scrunching up as she looked at his unmoving form.

“You head to wherever you need, I’ll take the next one.” Master Chief assured the agent with a dim nod, his arms moving up to cross over his chest as he shifted hue weight from one leg to another.

[Name] blinked in surprise, and another tremor of guilt washed over her as the doors began to slide shut. Reaching a hand out to stop them, the Spartan let his arms move down again as her eyes stared through his visor and into his soul.

“Come with me.”

With a short, surprised smile, the green coated man took a few steps forwards before stepping into the lift with the Trojan. He was sure he couldn’t feel happiness, not like everyone else felt it anyways. Still, the gesture was enough for him to feel a little bit of something in his chest. Leaning against the wall quietly, his eyes met her own behind the visor and for just a moment he felt… gratitude, he thinks.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

With that, [Name]’s broke into a flustered yet satisfied grin. She had decided that Spartans weren’t as terrifying as they appeared to be.

“Maybe next time.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

You are hiding behind a boulder with Tex, his steady arm around your shoulders, holding you upright, if you’re being honest. Bradford’s unkind methods of keeping you immobile rendered your limbs into an unreliable fucking mess.

One last distance to cover, Tex claims, before you reach your getaway vehicle, and with any luck, freedom.

You hurt everywhere, and all you want is to go home.

“What was that, rattlesnake?”

You realize you accidentally said that part aloud, and you sigh, banging your head back against the rock. How insane is it, that your idea of home now is a soft bed with Tex and John wrapped around you?

You should be enemies.

You should be fighting this tooth and nail, trying to find your own escape that doesn’t involve Bradford, the Bratva, or your assassin Beaus.

But the fact is…you don’t want to, anymore.

The system that was supposed to protect innocents like you instead fucked you royally, exposing the true corrupt underbelly of the way the world actually works. You’re beginning to grasp that it’s all a construct to keep the little people like you in line. The elite need a complacent workforce, after all. And that makes you question everything else you’d ever thought was wrong, or right, or something in between.

Tex is looking at you intently, even through his swollen eye, a warmth in his gaze that makes your insides melt. Fuck it. You all might die today. Maybe you should tell him. “I said—”

A hail of bullets cuts you off, Tex shoving you down nearly into the ground. He returns fire with a pistol he picked up from a dead Russian, and you press your hands over your ears, already half deaf from all the explosions and gunfire. Apparently the FBI had descended on the Bratva in what they thought was an ambush, and John…John was killing everyone.

You’d seen a glimpse of it from a distance while Tex had been pulling you to safety. The absolutely savage beauty with which John killed. It was like watching a vicious deadly dance, the artful way that man could seemingly effortlessly unalive a group of armed and dangerous people was a sight to behold.  

“I know it’s you, Tex!” rises a hoarse voice from the darkness beyond.

“What’s it to ya, Bradford?” answers Tex, checking his clip to see how many shots remain. He frowns at the one bullet he has left, and he slides it home back into the gun with a menacing click, racking the slide to feed it.

“Slick trick you two played. Well done.”

“Thank you kindly!” Tex looks down at you, making a jerking-off motion with his hand and rolling his eyes. It makes you giggle quietly to yourself, winning that heart-stopping devil-may-care grin.

The fact that the two of you can joke at a time like this probably means you’re both half insane. You’re probably in shock, which is your excuse. You’re afraid Tex doesn’t have one.   

“Give me the girl and I’ll let you go!” offers Bradford, winning an incredulous scowl and a shake of the head from Tex. The FBI agent sounds haggard. Desperate. Tex hopes he can take advantage of that. He peers around the boulder and squeezes off a single shot.

This is answered with a full-on barrage, and then the clicking of an empty gun. “Fuck,” you hear off in the distance.

“Stay here,” Tex mouths silently at you. You shake your head, clinging to him, desperate not to be left alone in this chaos. Gripping your chin none too gently, Tex kisses you hard, stealing your breath, and your senses. His hand possessively runs up your thigh, to your bare ass, squeezing you with his fingers maddeningly close to your center. With a devilish glitter in his eye he licks his fingers, whispering, “Keep that warm for me, darlin’.” He renders you into a befuddled little puddle of molten desire, then disappears into the night.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

You hear more gunfire, then grunting, the sound of flesh striking flesh. You dare to peek out from your hiding place to see Tex and Bradford fighting with fists, grappling on the ground. Tex gets the upper hand, straddling the FBI agent. Between punches he snarls, “Did I—” punch “hear you,” punch “lay hands” punch “on my woman” punch “over the phone?” punch “You piece,” punch “of pig-fucking shit?”

By the time Tex is done with him Bradford can’t give an intelligible answer, just groans with excruciating pain through broken teeth and bloodied lips.

Tex spits on him before standing, and delivers a kick to the man’s ribs for good measure. Bradford grunts again, coughing blood. You run out from behind the boulder on shaky legs, and Tex loops his arm over your shoulders again, pulling you in the direction of your escape route. You’re not sure who’s leaning on who more now.

You look back at Bradford one last time—and see he’s pointing a gun in your direction, specifically, at Tex’s broad back. “Tex!”

You don’t know why you do what you do. It just happens, and you are throwing your weight with what little strength you have left against Tex’s body. “Wha—”

It seems simultaneous. The report of Bradford’s last shot, and a searing pain in your side. It burns, and you whimper in Tex’s arms. He’s shouting something at you, maybe your name, or bawling you out for being stupid. Your ears are ringing, and you watch as though through a tunnel as John—dressed in a black western-style shirt a-la Tex—emerges from the shadows, and shoots Bradford in the head.

“What fucking part of keep her safe and I’ll do the rest did you not understand?” snarls John, going to his knees beside you, his laser-like stare fixed on your side.

“I was!” protests Tex, equally as worried as they examine you. “Goddammit, woman, why did you do that?”

“Shut up,” you manage weakly, winning yourself a grin despite everything.

John produces a black handkerchief, folding it and pressing it to your wound. It hurts. “Keep pressure on it. Time to go.”

They help you to your feet—but your legs aren’t really working. You almost fall again, but Tex hoists you in his arms. “I got you, honey. You’re ok.” You’re not sure who he’s trying to reassure more—you, or him. But you nestle your cheek against his collarbone, and your thought from earlier returns. Home.

Through heavy lids you are vaguely aware of the boys—your boys—loading you into some kind of 4x4 vehicle. As it starts with a mean grumble and you pull away with tires spinning in the dirt you pass out.

-----------------------------

Murmuring voices. A beeping machine. So annoying.

Hands on your side, pulling, prodding. You wish it would stop.

Voices speaking rapidly, not in English.

The bright flash of treetops and sunlight speeding past.

Palm trees. Blue skies. Birds singing.

Fingers sliding through your hair. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart. Promise.”

Promises, promises, promises.

When at last you wake, you feel as though you’ve been dreaming for days.

Your vision focuses selectively. First, upon the sloping contours of a muscled bare back adorned with black ink. The chiseled cut of a bicep, and raven-dark waves of hair. Beyond that you see a gauzy curtain waving in the breeze, the shimmer of impossibly blue water just visible beyond. You hear waves, and the plaintive call of sea birds. You can smell salt on the breeze.

Oh. So you’re not dead. Isn’t that nice?

There is a furnace of a body behind you as well, a heavy hand upon the curve of your hip.

The warmth you feel, not just on your skin, but kindling in your heart…is a wonderful, damnable thing.

You lift your head a little, winning a grumble of protest from behind you.

Then you notice dark eyes shining from behind the curtain of that mop of hair on the pillow next to you. “Hello, beautiful.”

“John?” Your voice sounds like you swallowed a cup of borax, like you haven’t spoken in a week. You reach out to touch him, and find that even that makes your side ache.

“Next time,” advises your assassin boyfriend no 1, kissing your fingers, “Just let Tex take the bullet.”

“Hey,” grumbles Tex from behind you, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “That’s not nice.”  

__________________

ahhhhhhhh sorry this is long I had some free time today! So…I kind of made the executive decision that we needed a beach vacation??😂 Nothing like the time honored tradition of outlaws running away to Mexico, LOL. Or the Caribbean. Or south America, shit, whatever u want. If you really wanted to write more action you can do flashbacks OR I can delete the end part @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly @treedaddymcpuffpuff. Just let me know. I was on a role and this felt right for the pacing. We can keep ol’ Igor in our back pocket for later conflict? 😈 Or maybe john killed him. Maybe John killed them all…ur choice. 😘 Please enjoy this setup for mushy angst and smut LOL.

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine WIP Part 6

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly

Just thought I'd set this up for whoever wants to go next...😘😘😘

[pensat-i-fet]

Take Two: Part 1 (Rúben Dias)

Part 2 l Part 3 

Masterlist

Wattpad

“So the movie is being filmed in London, right?”, asked Mariana.

“Mainly, but there are other locations in England where you’ll have to do some small scenes”.

“Ok, I hope it’s not too cold there”.

She could see her agent rolling her eyes at her. Anyone could tell she had been unbearable lately. Complaining about every little detail when she usually just worked and never mentioned anything in a negative way. But moving to England…it brought back too many memories. The main one was her ex, who was now living there. But she wouldn’t have to see him at all. She’ll go to London and all those little towns in the middle of nowhere and get this film done. After the success of her last two roles, everyone agreed it was time for her to go for a role that could get her nominated for some type of award. And this role was exactly that. 

“Ready to go?”, asked Amelia, her make-up artist and best friend. Life in Hollywood was lonely. One didn’t know who they could really trust, but Amelia had proven to be a good friend multiple times.

“Yeah”, she answered and entered the jet. 

The flight was going to be a long one, so they planned on spending it watching a couple of movies and trying to get some sleep to better adjust to the British timezone once they landed. 

                                                             **

When they made it to England, Mariana was tired and desperate for a relaxing bath. 

“Want to order some food and watch a movie?”, asked Amelia.

“Sorry Ames, I’m shattered”.

“Ok, grandma. Do you want me to get your schedule to your room when Felix gets here? So he doesn’t bother you?”

“Please!”

Back in her room, she quickly took her clothes off and got the bath ready. The selection of oils wasn’t that great for a 5-star hotel but it’d have to do. Just another annoying thing to add to her already growing list of complaints.

Her bath time was like meditation time for her. Almost sacred. She didn’t listen to any music or watch any movies. She just closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to empty her mind. And more often than not, she fell asleep.

“Babe?”, she heard Amelia say from the other side of the door. She always got a spare key to Mariana’s room.

“Coming!”

The water was starting to get cold and she felt a chill all over her body when she got out of the bath.

“What is it?”, she asked once she was back in the room.

“Your schedule”, said Amelia, with a weird look on her face.

“What’s that look for?”

“Just look at the schedule”.

And so she did.

  -Oct 10th-20th: filming in London. Parts 3 and 5 from the script.

  -Oct 22nd-26th: filming in Birmingham. Studio. Parts 1, 7 and 8.

  -Nov 1st- Dec 12th: filming in Manchester. Rest of the script.

“I thought I was filming in London!”, she yelled. “That motherfucker!”

“Babe, no. Wait! Mariana!”.

But Amelia’s plea fell on deaf ears because Mariana left her room, wearing only a bathrobe, and ready to confront Felix. How could he do that to her?

“Open the door right now!”, she screamed, almost punching the door instead of knocking.

“You got the schedule, then”, said Felix, as if nothing had happened.

“You lied to me! You lied to me multiple times! I said England was bad enough but Manchester?”

“It’s the best role you could get to finally get the award you crave so much. I’m doing what’s best for you”.

“You’re fired”, screamed Mariana.

“No, I’m not. You are going to bed now and you’ll realize that I’m doing what’s best for you. Then you’ll stop being a brat and you’ll thank me when you do your speech at the stupid Oscars”.

Her fury was getting worse and worse. How dare he talk to her like that?

“Felix, do you think you’re untouchable or something?”, she hissed.

“No, I just know I’m good at my job and that I’m doing what’s best for my client. No, actually, not only that. I’m doing what she, what you asked me to do. This is the role you wanted. The film has to be done in Manchester too and that’s that. I can’t tell them where to film when they’ve been preparing for this movie for months just because you don’t want to be there”.

“Yes, I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be in the same country as him and I don’t want to be in the same city as him. The last time we were seen in the same place, people went mad. I can’t do that again!”

“I thought you were over him”.

“I am”, she said, firmly.

“Then act like it. People won’t even know where you are filming apart from London. I’ll deal with the paparazzi”.

“I still hate you”, she said, leaving and conceding this defeat. She knew he was right and that annoyed her most than anything else.

                                                        **

London was full of paparazzi trying to catch her and the rest of the cast filming scenes for the movie. Security had a hard time getting rid of them. But as Felix had predicted, by the time they moved to Birmingham, no one followed them. She even managed to go shopping around the city centre without bodyguards and not one person bothered her. That felt good. Almost like being back to the times before she became famous. It definitely lifted her spirit. She hadn’t been her cheerful self for a while and she could tell that the stories that would come out of this set would be about what a bitch she was.

She was just tired. And homesick. And lonely. So lonely. 

But Birmingham was great. She loved filming in beautiful locations but there was something about studios that she loved even more. And even though some of the hardest scenes had to be filmed on those sets, she enjoyed it. Comedy wasn’t her forte, she was a drama actress and she planned on proving that to everyone with this film.

“Here”, said Amelia when she sat down in Mariana’s bed.

“What is it?”, she asked, unwrapping a box. “Under eye patches?”, she laughed.

“That’s the best present I can give you. Crying so much for those scenes is making your eyes too puffy”.

“Aren't you the best make-up artist?”, teased Mariana. “Then you’ll be able to make me look good next week despite the puffy eyes”.

“I don’t know, babes. I can’t perform miracles”.

And they both fell on her bed laughing. It was so good to have someone she could be herself with. She had missed that feeling.

                                                           **

Somehow, October had already finished. The filming of the movie was going well but it was time for the biggest part of it. The part that was filmed in Manchester.

“It’ll be fine”, said Felix, holding Mariana’s hand while they were being driven to the hotel.

“So you keep saying”.

“I got it under control”, he reassured her.

Felix wasn’t only an agent and publicist, he was her other good friend. Someone who knew how to help her in every situation and not just because of money. He had proven that many times before as well. 

“What’s my schedule for the days before we go back to filming?”

“We have a photoshoot for Vogue. It took a lot to get it so you better make the best out of it. And then we have a gala. I managed to get Louis Vuitton to dress you for it. We’re doing the fitting tomorrow”.

“Sounds good”, she said, sighing and looking out of the window at the city she’ll be spending a lot of time in. His city.

                                                             **

"I don't like not having you as my make-up artist", complained Mariana on her way to the photoshoot.

"You know how these fashion people are. I'm not good enough for them".

"They don't know much then".

"Hey, you ok?", asked Amelia, noticing her friend looking out of the window with sad eyes.

"Just one of those moments when everything feels like too much, you know?”

"Well, I'm here to talk".

"I know", said Mariana, putting her head on her friend's shoulder and closing her eyes.

When they got to the studio, everyone started to move her around to get her ready. She felt three hands pulling at her hair while others tried to put clothes on her to see what looked best. It was unbearable. 

"So you're an actress?", asked one of the women doing her makeup.

"Yes".

"Would I know you from something?"

"I don't know. Did you watch the last Jake Matthew's movie?"

"Oh yeah, the one with the cute blonde on it, right?"

"That one, yeah", she sighed, knowing she meant her coprotagonist, Josh.

"He's so hot. Who were you in the movie?"

"The one that played his wife".

"Can't remember that".

And that was the story of her career. Being the pretty actress next to the actor who got all the fame and recognition. That's why she was tired of those movies and wanted to do something serious. Something real. Something that showed people she was good at her job. 

"Wait", said the stylist. "Didn't you date a footballer?"

From the corner of her eye, Mariana saw Amelia looking at her worryingly.

"No. You must be confusing me with someone else", she answered, wanting to avoid the conversation altogether.

"Yeah, the City guy. The hot Portuguese".

"Who?", asked another one of the make-up artists.

"I can't remember his name. My boyfriend loves him and I love looking at him”, she laughed making everyone else join her. “Are you sure you didn't date him?"

"Confident", said Mariana with a fake smile. It was a good thing she was really good at her job.

The shoot lasted three long hours and by the time she was done, she could overhear the photographer telling the stylist that maybe one of the photos could be used to which she responded that it was ok because “no one knew her in the UK anyways”. 

Mariana took her coat and left without even saying goodbye. She was so tired of all these fake people. And of having to be fake herself.

"You ok?", asked Felix when she got to the hotel's lobby.

"Sure".

"How was the shoot?"

"Alright".

"Do you know how to speak long sentences?", he asked her, annoyed at her attitude.

"I'm just tired. I'll take a bath and go to bed".

"No, you have the Louis Vuitton fitting".

"Now?"

"Don't whine".

"Felix, please", she begged, almost crying. She just needed to be alone for an hour or two.

He hugged her and let her use him as support like she had many times. 

"Just do this quickly", he whispered, "and then I'll get you your favourite food and leave you alone until tomorrow evening, ok?"

"Ok", she sighed and walked to her room, where the Louis Vuitton people were waiting for her. Time for more fake smiles. When had she gotten so good at faking?

                                                           **

Felix had kept his promise and allowed her to have a morning off. She spent some of her time going through the script. Practising her accent as her coach had taught her. Most people were surprised to find she wasn't American when they heard her talk in English letting her accent come through. 

Once she was done, she asked Amelia to go shopping and for lunch. She didn't really know the area but was sure she could find a cute little place to eat. She tended to avoid the big spaces…even if no one really knew her in the UK. She thought about that line again, rolling her eyes. Who knew them two anyway? 

"So because of the gorgeous neckline of the dress, I thought about putting your hair up. And then we'll do a smokey eye in the same shade as the dress. It'll compliment your eyes so well", said Amelia, excitedly. She loved her job just as much as Mariana loved hers, and she also loved playing with her face as if she was a doll. If it made her friend happy, she'd let her experiment as much as she wanted.

"I'm sure you'll make me look perfect but don't use all the time on me, you need to get ready too".

"Eeeeek!", screamed Amelia, making everyone look at them. "Sorry, I still can't believe you convinced them to let me have a dress too so I could attend the event with you".

"A bit stupid of me to take someone prettier than me as a plus one but oh well, I'll allow you to outshine me for one night", she laughed.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure all the big celebs will fall in love with me".

"You never know", said Mariana with a wink.

After a long shower, she started to get ready with the help of Amelia. For once, it was just the two of them, plus the occasional visit from Felix, and it just felt like two friends getting ready for a night out. Mariana didn’t stop smiling the whole time. 

"Ready?", asked Mariana when they were about to leave the limo to join the red carpet.

"No, but I can't hide now, can I?"

"No", she laughed, taking her friend's hand.

The red carpet was another place where she could just act and pretend. She kept her head high while she heard the photographers yelling all types of things at her. And once she reached the end of the carpet, she took a deep breath.

"That was amazing!!!!", said Amelia.

Mariana turned to see her beaming. At least someone enjoyed the experience.

The aim of the night was to show her clothes and to say hello to the important people. Or those who everyone thought were important people. 

"Can I steal her from you for a second?", asked Felix smoothly while taking her away from everyone else.

"What is it?"

"I need you to not freak out", he said, making her freak out.

"Why?"

"Rúben is here".

She could feel her chest contracting at the words. What was he doing here?

"How?"

"I don't know. I checked the list at least 20 times and his name wasn't there. It isn't there now. But he is here. Unless he's got a twin that showed up at the event and I find that a bit unlikely".

Mariana closed her eyes to try and control her reaction. She couldn't see him. They couldn't be seen together. Not again. 

"I need the toilet", she said.

"Don't run away without telling me, please".

"I won't", she promised. And continued her way to the bathrooms.

She kept looking at herself in the mirror trying to find there the strength to deal with this moment. Her face looked pale from the shock of the news and her eyes were watering. But she wouldn't let anyone notice how affected she was. She would just say goodbye to everyone and leave before Rúben could even realize she was there.

Determined, she made her way back to where she thought Felix would be.

"Ana?", she gulped after hearing that voice. His voice. And that nickname. No one called her that anymore. She made sure of it.

"Hi Rúben", she said back, turning to look at him. Seeing him up close after such a long time made her knees feel weak. He had changed a little, but not much. He still looked like her Rúben and that made her heart beat too fast. Hearts can be so stupid sometimes.

"I didn't expect you to be here".

"Yeah, same. I gotta go and talk to people. It was nice seeing you, though", she said and tried to get away from him as quickly as possible.

"Don't go", he said, holding her arm. The contact made her skin burn. "Can't we talk and maybe catch up? We haven't seen each other in so long".

"I don't want people seeing us together", she said and saw him flinch.

"Ok".

"I…I didn't mean it like that. I just, you remember the last time we were in the same restaurant and people thought we were back together. It was madness for our publicists. And we weren't even there the same day".

"Is that all you care about now? About publicists and what people think of you?", he said, with a sad look.

"Don't judge me like that. You play the same game. And I have to care. You don't get how hard this career is".

"Whatever you say, Mariana”, he said, making her own name sound like an insult. “I'll leave you so I don't taint your perfect image".

His words tickled her.

"Don't be a child", she said, following him and tripping on her long gown. Damn it!

"You ok?", asked Rúben, kneeling down to check on her.

"Yeah, just twisted my ankle. But I'll be fine".

"Here. Let me help".

She took his hand and let him pull her up and closer to him than she had been in a very long time. They both were thinking the same. It was clear in the way they looked at each other.

A camera flash woke them up from their daydreaming. 

"Fuck! Great!", said Mariana, separating herself from Rúben.

"Do you need help? To go back to your people?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine. You enjoy your night".

And she ran to where she thought Felix would be, but couldn't find him at first. Her panic kept rising but Amelia found her to save the day once again.

"You ok?"

"No. Can we go?"

"Of course. You've done the red carpet already and talked to reporters. Let's go find a car".

                                                            **

Once they were back in their comfortable pyjamas, Amelia made them some hot chocolate and they sat down on the bed to talk.

"I'm sorry I cut the night short, Ames. I know you wanted to experience this kind of event but seeing him…".

"Hey, I get it", she told her, holding her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. We hadn't really seen each other since our break up and…I just, I…having him so close and talking to him, it felt so natural. But then we were already getting annoyed at each other. It confused me".

"He was your first love. It's understandable".

Rúben wasn't just her first love. He was her only love. 

"I just hope I don't see him again while I'm here. I don't need this".

"I'll get him banned from all of the places we go to", said Amelia, trying to make her friend laugh and achieving it.

"It should be fine. No more events. Just work and then we go back to LA".

"Yes", agreed Amelia. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

"Please".

                                                         **

The next morning, Mariana woke up determined to not let her encounter with Rúben affect her. 

"Morning Fifi", she said to Felix, joining him at his table for breakfast.

"You are in a good mood", he said, like it was a bad thing.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Have you checked your social media?", he asked.

"No, why?"

She had actually avoided her phone last night. It wouldn't have been the first time she felt vulnerable and went to Rúben's Instagram to check what he was up to. Seeing him moving on with his life both helped her move on with her own and made her hurt. It depended on the day.

"See it for yourself", he said, giving her his iPad.

There he had collected all the articles about her and Rúben. The photo featured in all of them was of them holding hands and looking into each other's eyes. She couldn't deny they looked like a couple. 

The headlines and articles weren't much better. All of them wondered if her being in Manchester had anything to do with him, if they had decided to give their relationship a second chance. 

The hardest part was seeing all the old photos they posted. All of those photos from their happy times together. She had those photos saved and looked at them sometimes, remembering the good times. They actually tended to lift her spirit but they did the exact opposite this time.

What would be Rúben's reaction to all of this? Would he care? He seemed upset at her for being bothered by what people could think but would he just brush it off and move on? She wished she could ask him. But asked Felix instead.

"What do Rúben's people think of this?"

"I still haven't been able to talk to them", he told her, disappointing her. "Are you ok?"

"No", she said, laughing sadly. "But I will be. People will forget in a couple of weeks like they did the last time, right?"

"We can hope. Besides, you're back to filming soon and can concentrate on that".

"Yes", she said with a smile. "I'll do that".

                                                         **

For the next couple of days, Mariana concentrated on work. She and her co-lead had decided to do some rehearsals on their own. It was great to finally work with someone who took his job as seriously as she did. And that allowed her to forget about Rúben for a couple of hours every day. Until she had to go back to the hotel and ask Amelia to stay with her and take her phone. She was so tempted to contact Rúben. Felix told her his publicists kept ignoring his calls and emails and she didn't know what to think of that. Did he not care at all? Did he not care about her being hurt by this situation? She wondered about how he was dealing with it all the time.

"Hear me out", said Felix when he got to her trailer where she was going through her lines.

"Nothing good has ever come out of your mouth after saying that. Plus, we are in a public place and you know I can't make a scene. So rip the band-aid quickly so I can refuse your idea just as quickly and we move on".

"You need to fake date Rúben".

Out of all the things he had ever said, that was the craziest one yet.

"I'm sorry. Are you on drugs?"

"I've tried to keep you away from all of it, but everyone is going crazy over your photos together. Your name has never been mentioned in the press this much and his social media engagement has gone crazy. And his publicists need the good press. He's been single for too long and that leads to rumours they don't like. A serious boyfriend image gets contracts more easily. You know how it works".

"No, you're actually high. I'll get someone to get a cup you can pee in and test it".

"Mariana, come on. It wouldn't be your first rodeo".

And that hurt more than the suggestion of this publicity stunt with Rúben. Yes, she had done the same with her last two co-protagonists. Everyone in Hollywood did it. But this was different.

"It's not the same. I dated Rúben for two years and it was very real. I can't act when it comes to him. I'm not a sociopath", she said, fighting the tears.

"I know it would be hard for you. It wasn't my idea, you know?"

"Whose idea was it?"

"Rúben's PR people".

Why would they want that? Didn't people just assume football players slept around? Wouldn't they prefer for him to be single so a potential cheating scandal could be avoided? It made no sense.

"What would I get from that? He's the one who wins in this situation but what about me? He isn't even famous in America and that's my main market".

"All fair points", conceded Felix. "But you really wanted to get that role in the next movie by your favourite Portuguese director and this would help. You’ve been away for so long, people don’t even see you as Portuguese anymore but he represents the national team in soccer".

"Football", she corrected him but Felix ignored her.

"And I've already gotten requests from many magazines asking to feature you both if you are back together. Do you know how hard it was to get one photo of you in British Vogue? And now I have all these Portuguese magazines asking to have you on their covers".

If it was someone else, she would have said yes. She hadn't been interested in dating ever since her break up with Rúben anyways.

"Can I think about it?", she asked.

"Talk to him".

“I don’t…I can't”.

“Talk to him”.

But she wasn't sure that was going to help.

                                                          **

After much debating and getting Amelia's advice, Mariana decided to talk to Rúben. She needed to know if this was as crazy of an idea for him as it was for her. It had to be. He would have never accepted something like this before and she doubted he had changed that much in these two years.

Many meeting spots were out of the equation because of how public they were. And so was Rúben's apartment. Paparazzi had been there ready to get a photo of the two of them for days. So they met at one of his teammate's houses.

"So, what do you think?", she asked.

"I don't know. When I was first told about it, I wanted to tell them to fuck off but they made good points, I guess".

"That's why we hired them. They make crazy ideas sound slightly logical", she said with a small laugh.

"I guess. Um…so what do you think of all of it?"

"I mean, the decision is yours, Rúben. I have so much work between filming and castings. I don't have time to date anyways, so there's no risk of meeting someone. But if you did and this got in your way, I'd feel so bad and…".

"What do you mean not having time for dating?", he interrupted her. "You were dating those actors you worked with. So there is time for that".

When she looked up at him, she realized how quickly he understood what her look meant.

"It was also fake".

She nodded.

"So you haven't been with anyone else since we broke up?", he asked.

"No. I mean, I've been with men but…nothing serious. You?"

"Same".

And there was something about that admission that made both of them feel relieved. 

"So, are we doing this?", asked Rúben.

"If we do it’s with one condition. Non-negotiable".

"What?"

"We don't lie to our parents", she said. "I loved your parents and mine loved you. I can't lie to them about this. Give them…hope, you know?"

"We'll disappoint them instead, then?"

"Better than lying to them", she said, seriously. It really was her only condition. 

"Deal", he said, offering his hand for her to shake. And that's how they embarked on what could be their best idea…or the worst.

[brighteststar707]

hiii i am OBSESSED with that recent vanderwood fic 😭😭💕💕 how about ''i hate your guts but still want to make-out with you'' kisses with vanderwood if you have the time? 😙 -luc606

Hi!!! I know I’m getting back to this so late but I’m so happy you liked that Vandy fic! It was something out of my comfort zone and I felt quite self-conscious about posting it, so your message (and tags!) really made my day!

I really loved this request combination, and had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy! <3

Vanderwood - “I hate your guts but still want to make out with you” kisses

The room you’ve locked yourselves in is completely dark, so that the only indication that you’re not alone comes from the sound of the agent behind you catching his breath.

How on earth did you end up in this situation?

Easy. It was all Vanderwood’s fault, again. If he hadn’t interfered, you’d have managed to slip in and out of the building unnoticed and you wouldn’t have been almost caught. But, of course, he had insisted on following his plan and coming along.

Ever since having him assigned as your partner, this had been happening more often. No matter how much you had insisted that you worked best by yourself, the agency obviously didn’t listen. They never liked the idea of agents working by themselves, so you were given a forced supervisor.

Your complaints that he only hindered your productivity (and his similar complaints) fell on deaf ears. So, the time you spent working together was full of bickering and butting heads.

You rest your back against the door to catch your breath and search the darkness for him. Your mind fills in the missing image for you; hair falling out of the haphazard ponytail he put it in earlier, shirt tight around his arms, posture broad and stubborn. You can just imagine him ready to berate you for what went wrong.

You try not to think about why it was so easy to pull together that image of him. How you can almost see him just by closing your eyes. You must have been spending too much time together.

Of all places to end up, stuck in close quarters with Vanderwood was the last place you wanted to be. Being too close to him for longer than a few minutes has recently started to have some…strange effects on you.

You’ve started picking up on things you were usually all too happy to ignore; what it would feel like to run your finger down the small scar on his cheekbone, how much you want to push his hair away from his eyes so you can look at them properly when you explain for the millionth time why your approach would work better. All the different ways you could get him to shut up.

Even though you can’t see him, you can feel him. The warmth radiating off him and his breath still coming in sharp gasps (he really does smoke too much for his own good). It gives you goosebumps just knowing he’s so close.  

You can’t move any further away, so you try your best to distract yourself before you stop thinking straight. You redirect your building nervous energy back into your initial frustration at him.

“Why did you think waiting outside the surveillance room was a good idea?” You have to whisper to not draw attention to yourselves, so it comes out like a hiss. “It’s like you were asking to get spotted!”

“You think both of us getting cornered inside with people guaranteed to show up was a better idea? Going up there without any distraction attempts was a ridiculous idea to begin with!”

You can tell that he has been preparing for an argument as much as you have. Tonight’s mission was particularly risky, even for agents at your level. You had been going over plans for weeks leading up to tonight. Both of you were convinced that your own plans were the right ones, and neither of you were willing to compromise.

Oh, but he’s not done. He’s only just beginning. Trapped in here, with nowhere to escape his frustration, you have no choice but to endure it.

“If you had just listened to me before we left, we could be done with all of this by now, did you ever think of that? Or do you just need to prove that you’re the better agent all the time?” He growls.

In his ranting, he took an unintentional step towards you, once again distracting you from the matter at hand. You had no choice but to listen to him... except...

You take a step forward, holding your hands out in front of you. He’s close enough that you can reach the collar of his jacket pretty easily. You grasp it firmly with both hands and roughly use it to pull him towards you.

“Vanderwood, will you please shut up,” you say through gritted teeth.

Your noses bump, and you’re surrounded by the scent of him now. Something smoky, spicy, and that only spurs you on further. Any rational thought has long since left you.

He takes a breath, as if he’s going to say something else, but you’ve had enough of his complaints for one night. Your hands move up from his collar to his neck, even further up to his cheeks so you can pull his face to meet yours.

Your first kiss lands on his chin, but you quickly find his lips with yours. His hands hover over your body for a second, unsure, but then settle on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His groan comes out muffled against your lips, and you tug at his hair in retaliation, trying to get him to be quiet.

In this dark space, your senses are heightened. His hands trace the shape of you over your clothes, pressing his fingers deep enough into your skin that you’re sure you’ll find bruises tomorrow. Making out with him feels more satisfying than arguing with him, you find yourself thinking.

You’re not sure how much time passes, only that the commotion of footfalls outside subsides. When you finally break apart, he goes back towards the door and opens it just a crack to check that the coast is clear. 

From behind him, you say, “by the way, your idea would never have worked.”

[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.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

[aching-tummies]

If I was your partner...I'd want to catch you after a long, long day of misfortune forced you to go without breakfast, or lunch, and you've missed your usual dinnertime by at least a couple hours. You finally get home with your empty belly rumbling VERY audibly; pressing your arm against your tummy as you close the door behind you does nothing to silence the furious growls. You'd collapse on the couch next to me and quickly start trying to soothe your starving tummy with rubs, softly whimpering as your belly clenches tighter and tighter...so I'd pull in you up to sit on my lap and rest my hands on yours. I'd love to just feel the intense churning grumbles and powerful starved roars against our hands, as well as hear them, before even considering feeding you~

After a while, I'd start teasing you about how hungry you'd have to be by then, occasionally squeezing and poking your whining tummy to draw out harsher rumbles and make you moan and plead for me to make something to eat, or at least some kind of snack, but for a while I would just play with your empty belly, kneading in circles to make it more active...make it clench and twist harder. I'd see just how long you could last before I finally get up and make something for you...and even then once you started eating I would keep rubbing and "massaging" your guts, causing the cacophony to grow even louder and more insistent; begging for more despite how quickly you'd be stuffing your face.

"...You finally get home with your empty belly rumbling VERY audibly; pressing your arm against your tummy as you close the door behind you does nothing to silence the furious growls..."

I step into our home quietly, trying not to make too much noise and disturb anything. Also, I'm kind of embarrassed about my tummy. Skipping one meal, maybe two...yeah, must've been busy...but all three mealtimes? Only an idiot would let themselves get this hungry. Though...to be honest...after lunchtime came and went I kind of saw this as something I wanted. The gnawing ache started to tickle my kinky side just a little. I wanted this. I wanted to see how long I could endure...to see how long I could let myself enjoy the active squirming and clenching of my guts.

Trying to focus on work was next to impossible as I my attention was constantly tugged toward the state of my hollow guts with each and every cramp and growl. I nearly caved on the way home. The bus stop is next to a burger joint and I could smell the heavenly scent of salt and grease in the air...but the bus was just pulling into my stop as I neared and I didn't want to wait however long for the next one...so home without food it was. The ride back was excruciating. The scents from the burger joint had stimulated my appetite and my tummy was snarling and growling throughout the whole ride. The cramps were cranked up to eleven with the newly awoken appetite and it hurt a lot. Thank heavens the other passengers all had their headphones in. I set my bag on my lap and was squeezing my empty tummy the whole way, trying to calm it out of fear that it would embarrass me in public. I couldn't help but let out a few soft moans because it hurt so much.

I'm kind of apprehensive about letting you in on the state of my starving tummy. Like a dog with a toy or something, a part of me wants to keep this gnawing feeling to myself to enjoy. An audible growl triggered by my arm pressing into my stomach as I bend over to set my bag down foils that though. There's no way you didn't hear that.

I'm in the hallway that has our front door on one end and the couch you're perched on at the other--literally two sides of an echo chamber. You'd have to be completely deaf not to hear that grumble and we both know you're keenly attuned to even the subtlest noises from my tummy. Also, you were expecting my starving state. You knew I skipped out on breakfast because my alarm failed to wake me in time to catch breakfast and my bus to work. I texted you after having missed lunch by a matter of hours, sharing a bit about the state of my neglected innards...and you had promised to have dinner waiting whenever I managed to come home.

"...You'd collapse on the couch next to me and quickly start trying to soothe your starving tummy with rubs, softly whimpering as your belly clenches tighter and tighter..."

"Babe? Y-you said in the text that you'd have dinner ready...ouch...w-when are we e-eating? Ugh…ow…m-my tummy really hurts…’m so hungry…"

"...so I'd pull in you up to sit on my lap and rest my hands on yours. I'd love to just feel the intense churning grumbles and powerful starved roars against our hands..."

"Y-you w-wanna--you wanna get into *that*? Now? Ugh...fine...b-but I really need to eat some time tonight. My tummy *really* hurts; I'm not going to be able to sleep like this. Babe? Are you listening to me?"

Clearly, you're not. You are completely transfixed on my tummy. Your hands have taken over on my stomach, somehow having pushed mine aside to lay directly over my achingly empty tummy. Your palms press into my midriff, jostling my digestive organs and stimulating my appetite just as the fast-food joint had done. I didn't think it was possible, but what you've done actually hurts more than the smell of food did at the bus stop. It was a gradual clenching and the growls sort of built up slowly and naturally on the bus. Under your undulating ministrations the cramps are forced into a head faster than they'd form on their own. Premature growls and grumbles are being squeezed into resounding throughout my hollow innards. Your palms create a cacophony of growls all over my guts--interrupting each other, flowing and crashing into each other. Dear gosh it hurts. My guts feel like they are liquifying. It feels like my gastric acids have burned through every which way in the hunt for sustenance and your palms are causing the burning mess to spread. Clearly, you’re an agent of hunger and want it to succeed in devouring my innards.

"Aaahh...OUCH! N-Not there...ugh...ow...t-that hurts...d-don't p-oke...ow...i-it's really t-tight there...y-yeah...i-it's cramping there...n-NO! D-don't squeeze it! Please...it...HURTS!"

My protests fall on deaf ears--what a time for you to choose to be selectively deaf, acutely aware of every noise from my guts but your brain not really caring to register a word out of my mouth. It's fine. We have safe-words. One word and all of this stops and you'll bring out the dinner you're hiding from me.

"Ugh...fine. We can play for a little while--but I'm watching the 11'o clock news. There was an incident on the transit lines and I want to know what it was that caused me to hug my grumbling tummy for an extra forty minutes on the way home as the bus took a HUGE detour."

"...After a while, I'd start teasing you about how hungry you'd have to be by then, occasionally squeezing and poking your whining tummy to draw out harsher rumbles and make you moan..."

"Shh...babe, I'm try'na watch the news—Yeah, I know I’m hungry. You know it. I know it. Shut up. It's ON!"

Your fingers push into a hunger pang reaching its climax and I swear its retaliation for shushing you as rudely as I am. I can’t help it. I’m irritable. The hunger pangs are intensifying. I like my news. I like to be informed and I have a personal stake in the news story on right now. It’s hard to focus when my tummy is straining in a cramp and it’s impossible to hear the guy on the T.V. when your “massage” is causing the growls to grow in intensity, duration, and volume. Of course you have the remote too.

"Ugh...really, babe? Now? Welp, that was the story I wanted to listen to."

I’d love to stay upset at you, but my stomach lets out a long, impassioned groan and my throat soon joins it as I moan around a building cramp, curling over your hand pressed into my belly. I forget my foiled news as my entire world shrinks to the sensation reverberating in my abdomen. Hollow is an understatement. I feel like a large hole has opened inside of me and everything is being pulled into it. You grin and press your hand deeper, intensifying the hunger pang.

"...I would just play with your empty belly, kneading in circles to make it more active...make it clench and twist harder. I'd see just how long you could last..."

In my head I’m thinking that I want to draw the line at midnight or something. I want to go to bed at a reasonable hour—after all, I’ve still got a full shift tomorrow too. I can’t seem to focus on the thought long enough to voice it though. You mentioned something about wanting to see how long I can stick this out for. I haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours. You know that. I’d love to shove that fact in your face but the way you say it in that teasing, seductive way of yours makes me see this as a challenge. On top of it all, it’s been a stressful week. We haven’t seen much of each other and both of us are starved for tummy-kink because we haven’t had a chance to indulge in far too long.

“Ergh…b-babe…y-you’re making it worse. I-It hurts.”

You know exactly what you’re doing and you revel in it as I squirm in your lap, trying to force your hand to leave some of the more tender areas of my stomach alone. We’ve done this enough times for you to know which areas of my digestive system are especially sensitive in whatever state I am in. You know exactly where to put your hands and where to push and squeeze to over-stimulate my stomach. You know exactly what buttons to push to get me to the peak of the hunger pangs and to prolong that moment and freeze my tummy in the most painful part of it all…before letting it go and causing a very audible grumble.

The rumbles from my stomach aren’t just audible, but totally palpable too. With the frequency of the growls you’ve managed to inflict I honestly feel like I swallowed a vibrator or something and it is now going to town in my guts. You feel every vibration and every cramp under your palm.

“…I finally get up and make something for you...and even then once you started eating I would keep rubbing and "massaging" your guts, causing the cacophony to grow even louder and more insistent; begging for more despite how quickly you'd be stuffing your face.”

We’ve done this long enough for you to know what I am thinking. You know I have a full shift tomorrow and you know I’m exhausted. As much as we’d both love to continue our fun, it’s so late that it is early now and if I don’t get to bed in an hour or two I’m going to be tackling a full shift with next to no sleep.

We eat on the couch with me sitting between your legs. We’re lounging across the couch so I’m actually reclined against your front. Your hands are still on my tummy as I eat. Occasionally, you grip my hand that holds the utensil and bring it to my lips, impatient that I’m taking so long to eat. I’m worried about a couple of things: too much and too fast.

I was starving, so I basically inhaled the first half of my plate. I slowed down for the second because my stomach was flipping at the sudden influx of food. There’s a dull ache in my stomach that’s the telltale sign of a bad night of indigestion for me. You only started this utensil-pushing when I started in on the second half at a noticeably slower pace than the first.

My stomach is still audible, but for a very different reason. I’m not full (yet), but if I manage to finish the whole plate I will be. I wonder if my stomach capacity shrank after more than twenty-four hours without food. My tummy feels really packed now and there is still food on the plate.

“Ugh…babe…slow down. M-my tummy’s starting to hurt…y-yeah…i-it was hurting before too…b-but now…ugh…I-I don’t want to get sick. I don’t want to have an upset tummy…I-I just…I just want to sleep tonight…”

Your “massage” churns up my stomach contents. It both upsets things and soothes at the same time. It’s an odd feeling. I feel like a laundry machine or something with how active your hands have made my guts. I can feel everything swirling around inside me and it’s slightly nauseating.

Eventually, we head to bed, me lugging my almost-stuffed tummy as though I’m hoisting a bowling ball. I let out a sharp belch as I flop onto the bed, the movement jostling my guts enough to make me moan. There’s too much pressure in my tummy. I lie back and rub at it with lethargic movements. You’re not here, likely getting ready for bed.

I feel the bed dip announcing your arrival. The movement disrupts the swirling churning in my guts and I let out a moan around a wet belch as my stomach burbles in warning.

“G’night.” You call out, intending on going straight to sleep. My hand snaps out and I grip your wrist, startling you. There’s silence as I gasp around a pocket of gas that seems to be struggling to pick an end of my esophagus. As it passes, I glare at you. My burbling stomach is the only noise in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“Oh no—you’re not getting of that easy.” I gesture to my slightly distended stomach. “I can’t sleep like this. It. Hurts. You caused this. You’re going to fix it. I’m exhausted. I went from achingly empty to basically nauseatingly stuffed thanks to you. I’m going to sleep and I do not want to wake up to an upset tummy tomorrow morning—so *you’re* going to stay up and fix this.” I bring your hand to my grumbling belly.

You grin. So many possibilities. You could refuse and let me suffer all night. You could have some more fun with my stomach at the other extreme and keep us both up. You could do as I ask, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll end up sleeping through my alarm again…or you’ll just go ahead and shut it off/alter it so that we can repeat all of this again tomorrow…’cuz damn if that wasn’t fun.

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of turmoil

Yandere!Childe x fatui!reader

[Previous chapter]

Just as you predicted that short and stifled conversation was a portent of future changes. Childe stopped trying to talk to you outside the business, he even avoided your eyes in those rare moments when you looked at him first. Normally obnoxious and persistent Harbinger seemed to deflate in your presence, as his swaggering and blustering attitude disappeared within mere moments.

You would be overjoyed for this turn of events, if you didn’t have any experience of dealing with and tolerating Tartaglia. Childe, as you already established, is a chaos personified, an erratic whirlwind that twists and ruins everything in its way wrapped in human skin and caged by human bones. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some nasty complications arose out of this faux armistice and sneaked upon your unsuspecting self.

Ajax wont do anything drastic, you reassure yourself - the Rite of Descension gets closer and closer with each passing day, he just can't afford to fail this, meaning that he will have to keep you on-field. It would be logical to do so, let you work, but logical sometimes means predictable and nothing about Ajax is predictable.

Fortunately he continued to keep this strange distance as days passed. Was your little episode and words you said to him enough to stop him in his pursuit? Maybe it truly hurt him, maybe it made him see how miserable he was making you, maybe his obsession with you ceased to exist, it’s flames fizzling and going out just as fast as they ignited. You doubt all of it, yet continue to hope for the better, despite the evidence of the opposite shoved in your face.

Ajax will never let go of you, not in the way you want. He killed and tortured people right before your eyes, sometimes had you assist him in doing so. Most of the time this was done in Tsaritsa’s name, for the future of Snezhnaya and her people, just another working assignment regardless of the blood curdling screams and alien agony.

However, in some rare cases the torment of others isn’t something that is totally impersonal to you, sometimes you’re the main cause. Childe is possessive, terribly so. He watches over you like a dragon guarding his gold, scaring away other possible admirers. And if his title and reputation wasn’t enough to keep away whatever poor sod who decided to tempt the dragon, well, other way more grim methods were used.

You never personally witnessed these kinds of torture, but you heard rumours and sometimes saw the bodies after, images that keep reappearing in your nightmares. Maybe this lull is nothing but a quiet before the storm, a short breather after he commits some unforgettable atrocity again.

He personally summons you the day before the Descension. You brace yourself for incoming nonsense, except nothing comes. “Agent [Last]”, he says, his voice tense and restrained.”I need you to attend the Rite of Descension with me. You will be disguised as a civilian", and then he dismisses you, no hint of mind games he likes to play in sight.

You want to hope that he changed, you succeed and fail at the same time - this new Ajax is pleasant, he’s cold and disinterested, just like any boss should be, yet you just can’t relax and focus wholly on doing the job - it’s a privilege only those who haven’t met Tartaglia can afford.

He’s a sea, treacherous and ever changing, calm and serene in one moment, yet violent and crushing in the other.

You spend the day torn between the anxious thoughts of Tartaglia and what he might do and the preparation for upcoming ceremony - it's a once in a lifetime event, it's Tsaritsa’s will and hope, it's Ajax’s eyes focused on you. You can’t afford to fail, you have no right to do so.

Wearing a simple Snezhnayan overcoat with nothing hiding your face is surely strange after years of donning a fatui uniform. Tourists and Liyuens alike pass by, not paying you any attention. Both vision and delusion glow under the thick fabric, asking you to use them.

You walk faster.

The top of the Yujing Terrace is lit with sunlight and full of human sounds, as merchants and other workers haste to finish their tasks and join the people at the top. You look around, quickly noticing the familiar ginger - he stays half-turned to you, his eyes focused on the figure of Tianquan. You quickly avert your gaze, as if not recognizing him, and shift it towards other people - you spot two vision holders among the crowd too - an electro and geo one, and a strange person cladded in the exotic clothes with some sort of flying fairy(?) floating around.

You walk to the altar placing Liyuen flowers nearby the multiple offerings of food, wine and gold, their simple white petals contrasting against the gaudy luxury of the rest.

"Qingxin flowers?", someone suddenly says, a speck of genuine surprise evident in the phrase. Their voice is too close for your comfort - you quickly turn on the heels, alarmed by a person somehow sneaking up on you only to be met with a pair of the golden eyes.

It’s a nicely dressed Liyuen gentleman, with the air of wisdom and elegance surrounding him, an inner dignity shining from beneath, and most importantly the one you saw wearing a vision at the back of the coat. You try to look as calm as possible, despite the senses telling you otherwise - after years of service any vision holder unadorned by the Fatui colors is perceived as a threat.

“Yes, it is”, you quip back, not wanting to look suspicious: “Is this improper? Qingxin as an offering?”, you mimic a light concern - something that would be appropriate for the foreign merchant who might have offended the god of commerce.

“No, not at all”, Liyuen laughs: “just in all of my years, I have never seen anyone offer these flowers”.

“Huh”, you smile, looking at the man before you. Is he a simple liyuen you thought of him at first? He has Geo vision - the symbol of Archaic Lord’s recognition - and the way he said “all of my years” carry more weight than usual, a mark of something hidden beneath the mundane phrase.

“Something tells me, you must have attended every rite of Descension”, you continue, the starter vague and innocent enough - a perfect way to fish out more information. For some reason, his golden eyes widen a bit, it’s subtle and quick enough to go unnoticed by most people, but you’re not the most people - all Fatui agents are trained to catch even the smallest changes and educated in multiple fields, physiognomy included.

What could have caused such a reaction and why did he react the way he did? The Rite of Descension is a prominent event in the life of every Liyuen, even if it’s annual, as thousands of thousands of people traverse great distances to see their god fly down from the heavens and grace his subjects with the wisdom of countless years. You remember seeing Liyuens living in Snezhnaya consistently take a leave every year for a week, when the prominent date showed on the horizon, missing working days and no doubt a lot of nerves, only to see the archon of their homeland.

So why did that man looks so surprised?

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?”, he responds, voice calm and pleasant, despite the masterfully hidden surprise: “And yes, I have always tried my best to be at every Rite to this day. Rex Lapis shares his experience with his people, so it’s an incredibly important day. And what about you? What brings a foreigner here?”, he makes a gesture at your obviously snezhnayan clothes.

“Well, I am a travelling merchant as you can see”, you raise your hands, showing him more of the coat: “Having blessing from the God of Commerce won't hurt, right?". He, again, reacts in the way you haven't anticipated, a handsome face adopting a contemplating expression for a short second.

"Rex Lapis rewards diligent people, work hard and he shall bless you too", he says with an air of wisdom around him, like an old enlightened monk passing his knowledge to the disciples surrounding him: "And you shouldn't keep your vision beneath the layers of cloth. I feel its chill just standing here, who knows what it will do to your body?".

Then he simply turns away and goes to the exit of Yujing terrace, and it’s your turn to suppress the rising agitation - how did he know, where’s he heading now?

“Wait”, you say: “why are you leaving?”

“I dedicated my whole life to my job, which consists of a collection of small and incredibly repetitive tasks, they took up most of my attention and I slowly, but surely became a creature of habit, deaf and blind outside its limited field of experience and comfort zone. Time never stops, so I decided to leave the work I’ve been entrusted with, and I want to start it by breaking my strongest habit - religiously attending every Rite of Descension”.

“Ah”, you reply, equally impressed by his speech, and feeling that you are talking about two completely different and unrelated topics: “well, good luck on that”.

More and more people flood the terrace as one of the main threats to your plans finally arrives - stern and ambitious, Ningguang looks as elegant and intimidating as ever, geo vision and the tassel attached to it, shaking with every graceful step. She throws a short glance at Tartaglia - he stands surrounded by the rest of the agents - yet her face doesn’t change even a bit, whatever hostility she may hold for your faction masterfully suppressed.

You quickly look around - tourists and citizens arrive at the last minutes and milleliths come with them. Soon, all of the exits are heavily guarded by at least four soldiers, all carrying spears and clad in armour - surely a necessary precaution, given the presence of Fatui and their Harbinger.

There are no milleliths among the crowd though, not in the on-duty uniform at least. You study the group again, this time looking for anyone with weapons, as someone lightly pushes you away - it’s that foreigner again. “I am sorry, we need to go closer”, the pixie-like creature apologizes, as it flies after the stranger, and you conclude that there are no armed people, except you, Tartaglia, milleliths, Ningguang and that strange person.

“The hour is upon us”, Tianquan starts, after looking at the bright sun above, two women around her slightly bowing down, as she invokes the power of geo. The gold glow surrounds and illuminates her whole figure, before condensing into hard rocks of the same shade. They shine and fly around her for a bit, leaving the yellow trails behind before starting to spin around the shrine in the middle of the rock table.

Soon the golden inscriptions on the shrine start to glow too, before it sends a bright orange beam into the blue sky. The crowd "Oh!"s and "Ah!"s as the clouds deform around the pillar of light.

Tension, so thick it can be tasted, descends in the waves upon the Terrace as some - carefree and ignorant - hold their breaths in excitement and anticipation, whilst the rest focus in caution - Fatui and Qingxin alike. You shift, taking out both vision and delusion out of your coat, as your eyes frantically shift between Tianquan, Tartaglia and the spiraling clouds above, your whole being ready to aid Childe in his mission.

And then something unexpected happens: a majestic dragon does descend to his people. By falling straight to the ground. Serpentine body slumps around the crushed offerings, elongated tongue escaping the confines of the maw.

A long second of absolute silence passes before Ningguang collects herself, checks the body and orders milleliths to close off all the exits, as the crowd erupts into turmoil and chaos realizing what exactly has happened. You disguise amongst the panicking masses, hiding two glowing orbs in the deep pockets of your coat,before looking at Tartaglia again - he in turn intently stares at the blonde foreigner, who quite clumsily tries to sneak past the soldiers.

Milleliths catch onto that running after the stranger and you use this opportunity, turning invisible in the same second. People around you are too panicked to question your sudden disappearance or the unnaturally cold breeze swaying past them, as you make your way - Childe has already departed, chasing after the group of soldiers, and Ningguang is seen leaving too, giving the last orders, before turning to the Yuehai pavillion.

You contemplate for a second, unsure what to do - Tartaglia has ordered you to aid him in case of Qixing intervention, there was nothing about the death of your target and the glimpse into Tianquan’s actions might be a key to solving the mystery of said departure. The thing that you plan to do is opportunistic, reckless even - who would have known that Ajax will rub off onto you? You chase after Ningguang, careful to keep yourself invisible.

Who is Rex Lapis’ murderer?

She goes up to the aged man standing at the stairs of the pavilion, they exchange a couple of words before Ningguang steps up on the little floating island and it starts to levitate! You run after her, still unsure what to do - the platform is too small, Tianquan will no doubt feel the chill coming from you, but the opportunity to learn what Qixing are planning is too good to miss.

In the end, you come to compromise, jumping after the rising platform, as your hands clutch into its rough protrusions and you grit your teeth, enduring the pain and cold from the vision overuse. The little island rises higher and higher, as people and buildings underneath turn into small dots. Your fingers start to slide off a couple of times, yet you grab onto the island with a renewed strength everytime that happens, asking Tsaritsa to let fortune favour you.

The platform finally stops moving, and you pull up, once you hear her heels clicking away.

Jade chamber, as it turns out, exceeds all rumours, luxurious and opulent, shining above the prosperous city, it glows under the sunlight with a golden radiance. You would have stopped to admire it if it wasn’t for your goal. You sneak after Ningguang, following her to the office as she takes out papers and folders from the shelves. She focuses on them, as you carefully step near her, glancing at what she’s reading - it’s reports of fatui activity throughout the months, leading to this day, thankfully vague and very far from reality.

Does it mean that she also has no idea of what or who caused Rex Lapis’ death and tries to find his killer? Or does it mean that she looks for a way to deduct Fatui's next actions?

You don’t have time to contemplate, as the frost worsens and you feel cryo energy exhausting from the overuse - one more minute and you’ll become visible. You quickly walk away - you don’t have enough time to reach that platform, so you do the most logical thing - fling yourself out of the window, opening the wings of the glider halfway the jump.

You push the most of your invisibility, letting go of the cryo powers once you're only a couple of meters above the ground. In the end you find yourself tired and frozen to the very bones, slowly coming back to the Northland bank.

***

You approach the building as the Sun begins to set - its pink-orange rays dying everything in the warm glow. The bank looks glorious like that, sinking in the reddish tones, it looks like an illustration out of children’s books - a place of something miraculous, a place of something hopeful.

“Hi”, you throw to the tired Vlad and he nods, after suppressing an escaping yawn: “Is boss here?”

“Yeah”, he croaks, drowsiness evident in his speech: “came back like an hour or two ago. Can’t really remember”.

“Huh.. Well, thanks”, and with these words you enter the bank, pushing the doors and preparing yourself for the confrontation to come.

After chatting with Ekaterina and confirming that yes, he is in his office, you head for the staircase, all of the information you learned today buzzing inside your head.

Childe sits, hunched over the papers, as you enter, not paying you even the sliver of attention. For some reason he’s in a different clothes.

“Eleventh Harbinger”, you start the standard greeting, all formal and stiff: “this subordinate has finished the task”.

This finally prompts him to raise his head, cold blue eyes look at you, no hint of the usual obsessiveness in sight: "you may speak, agent" he succinctly says, putting the writing feather aside. You quickly report to him all you have seen today, without your own thoughts involved - they’re just baseless theories, after all.

“So you say, Tianquan was reading the reports about Fatui activity. Haven’t you destroyed those reports earlier?”

“Those papers contained nothing about the current situation, they were actually far from reality, I doubt that any of those reports survived the fire”.

“Seems, I’ll have to take your word for it”, a sigh, he leans closer in his seat, propping left cheek on the palm: “Why did Tianquan look at them? What was she trying to do? Pin her crime on us?”, he glances at you again, gesturing that you can speak your mind and you do.

“Highly unlikely, sir. From the short time I spent watching her and her reputation, I have an impression that Qixing Tianquan is a person who prefers to plan her every action. If she or any other Qixing higher up, were the one who murdered our target, then every needed preparation would be done months, if not even years in advance. She would somehow cast us as the killers right at the ceremony, in front of thousands of Liyuens, making us a scapegoat for public outrage and creating alibi for herself”.

“So, that’s how you think”, he hums, blue eyes deep in thought: “Your entire conclusion is based on the mere impression. With Tianquan’s ambition I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one behind this...”, a vague hand gesture: “catastrophic situation”.

“When I sneaked inside the Jade chamber, she looked very frantic, it didn’t show on her face, but her movements were harsh and quick, lacking any of her elegance. She looked like she tried to keep herself together”.

“Anyone would try to do that, especially after killing a god”, he looks somewhere to the left, no doubt imagining battling the dead archon: “Well, my conclusion isn’t based on anything solid either. We don’t know who killed Rex Lapis, but we still need to somehow obtain his gnosis”, the last part isn’t addressed directly to you, it seems that Ajax just decided to voice out his worries.

“You can go”, he says, standing up from the table. You are touching the door handle, when you hear him asking:”what’s with your hand?”. The tone is nothing like that time, yet shivers still go up your spine when you remember what happened that day.

"Frostbite, from my vision", he comes closer to you, hand outstretched to yours: “Can I?”, he asks and waits for your faint nod, before gently pulling it closer to his face.

“It’s a second degree”, he mumbles, inspecting the white-blue discolorations and small angry blisters - the skin throbs and aches at his touch, yet most of it remains numb, muffled, like sounds underwater: “You should get it treated”.

“I should”, you agree, eager to leave this room and situation: “I will ask medics for some..”

“I already discharged them”, his hand suddenly shifts, now resting atop of the door handle, his frame suddenly looming over you: “I have a medkit here, with the ointments and balms. Maybe you should stay here and let me patch you up?”

Why did you even think that Childe could change?

***

Ajax has you sitting on his chair, with sleeves rolled up to the very elbows, as he frets around you - checking the temperature, pulling the warm water closer to you and taking out needed medicine out of the kit. It’s mostly silent, except the tune he quietly hums - Childe looks peaceful and content like this, maybe he likes caring for you.

“Does it hurt?”, he takes a discolored finger, probing around the blister, as the warm hydro energy engulfs your damaged hand. The burst of sensation explodes at this action - pain, tingling, throbbing, even relief.

“Bearable”.

“Understood”, Childe gets back to his task, continuing to rewarm your hands, still humming that tune as he does so. He takes out the healing ointment, when the healthy color and warmth returns to your limbs and spreads it on the skin, bitter herbal scent filling the room in an instant.

“[First]”, he says, as he rubs the place between the index and middle fingers: “I think we need to talk. About that day and your reaction”.

“And what about it?”, you respond, too quickly and snappy for the calm-facade - the memories of that day, of what you thought he will do to you, of how he witnessed you falling apart - all of these are too much, a maelstrom of conflicted feelings rising every time your thoughts stray to this topic. He finishes applying the balm and now switches to the bandanges, wrapping treated hands in them.

“Don’t you think you treat me too harshly, [First]? I understand I may have been… unpleasant in the Past, but I thought we moved past that. What have I done to warrant such ire?”, he says it with his usual smile, but there's a tense, heavy tinge in his words. It’s subtle enough to miss, but you knew Ajax since you both were fourteen, so the strain doesn’t go unnoticed.

Everything, you want to coldly respond, but you stop yourself again - Ajax is still a Harbinger, even if he trailed your steps at the training camp like an overeager and highly murderous puppy not even a decade ago, no matter your own feelings or sentiments or even experiences he still holds that power over you, whether he realizes it or not.

“There were.. things”, broken bones, coppery scent of blood, someone else screams: “training with you wasn’t pleasant for sure”. Childe laughs at the last part, yet the tension clouding in the air doesn’t dissipate, turning more tangible instead.

“I see”, a long pause: “I want to prove you're wrong, I want to prove you that I will never do something against your will”.

You already did. You stay silent at that, anger and fury and frustration boiling underneath, burning and scorching your insides like a magma moments before the eruption. His hands finally wrap the last layer of bandage, tying the ends into a neat little bow, yet he doesn’t let your palm out of your hold, as his lips hover over it, breath burning the skin even through the fabric. And then he releases it, not doing anything.

“Good luck with that”, you finally suppress the inner storm, and stand up from the chair, quickly heading to the door. The place where he almost kissed your tingles and throbs with a renewed strength. Your cheeks burn for some reason.

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 155

I'm so glad it's Saturday, this week has been exhausting because of a Christmas market I participated in today - so much baking and other preparations. Anyway, stay tuned for the last sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 4 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 7th of December. Chapter 5 is finished and will be posted on 14th of December aka next Thursday, and then this fic will be officially done!

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I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will most likely have five chapters, maybe six if I get epilogue-happy or smth. The first chapter is now truly finished, as I fixed the ending to my liking. A new second chapter appeared because of a thing I removed from the first chapter but didn't want to ditch, so now it's in the process of being fully expanded on to be the second chapter. It's about 1/4 done. The old second chapter, now the third chapter, is finished now too.

I'm actually positive I can spin this into full on Stobotnik, because now I have a clear vision of how to go about it :D Also, I need to pick up the slack with writing this, because this will be the next in the line to be published unless some random oneshot(s) appear to fill in between Cuddles and this one to buy me more time. ...Not a word about how I could just write a chapter of this one in the time it'd take me to write an entire-ass oneshot >.> Shh, just be happy if you get more fics!

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SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or most likely I'll cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

I have the first four chapters completely written now. Chapter 5 is not yet started. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

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Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

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That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Stone woke up at his usual time, two minutes to seven, without any aid from alarm clocks. Not that he had an alarm set for that time anymore, since his work started at ten to accommodate the doctor’s hatred for mornings, but years of habit and him being a morning person were hard to train out of.

Stone stretched as much as he could while being weighed down by Robotnik sleeping on his chest, then looked down at him with a fond smile. As usual, the doctor had his head tucked under Stone’s chin, was holding him loosely around the chest, and had their legs all tangled up together. He had not so much as stirred by Stone’s movements, so used to this arrangement by now.

Stone observed the sleeping doctor’s mess of a hair in the morning sun that was peeking in through the small gaps in the venetian blinds. He could see hints of auburn red at the roots and mentally added black hair dye to the shopping list. Why Robotnik hated his natural hair colour was a mystery to Stone, but he looked forward to helping him with the dyeing process anyway.

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That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[strawwritesfic]

Brock Rumlow x Female!Former SHIELD Agent!Reader: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

Summary: All old flames grow cold eventually–Excepting, of course, yours.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (bad language, torture, physical abuse, beating, brainwashing, post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Fic Trade Prompt: “Don’t make my job too easy~ ;)” Plus, I got to pick the character to write for this time around.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

You awoke with a start in complete darkness with one hell of a headache pounding through your skull. Where you were and how you’d got to wherever that was you didn’t know, but it didn’t feel like you’d come along willingly. A multitude of invisible cuts stung up and down your body; your stomach felt as though it had had its contents punched out of it recently; and maybe you couldn’t see to confirm this, but you were pretty sure your left eye was swollen shut. Worst of all, every cell inside of you felt dry and hot and buzzy, as though you’d spent the evening before playing test subject for a new line of Tasers.

But what had happened mattered very little in comparison to your present predicament. You could catalog injuries once you were definitely safe. It didn’t take long for you to decide that your current location wasn’t that. Straining your ears, you heard nothing. No hum of electricity. No faint whir of a security camera. No chattering from anyone keeping guard. Eerie, you thought, until you decided to stand up…

…and found your arms clamped tightly to a couple of armrests. You had not realized that you were sitting down in an actual chair until you were unable to lift your wrists. Try as you might, no matter what angle you used, the restraints wouldn’t budge. Your ankles were in a similar state. Gritting your teeth, you mentally prepared to dislocate the bones. Nothing you hadn’t done before, but never a pleasant prospect. On the count of three. Three…two–

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from another corner of the room, “sweetheart.”

The sudden appearance of someone in your cell was not what caused you to freeze. No, you only stopped your attempts to get loose because you recognized the voice. You squinted into the dark. Still you could hear no breathing, see nothing further than the pitch black two inches from your nose. But then again, this man should have been a ghost.

“Brock?” you asked, voice raspy. Sounded (and felt) like you’d been smacked in the trachea, too.

A rumble of laughter answered you, but no footsteps. “I don’t go by that name anymore. But it’s good to hear you haven’t forgotten me entirely. Thought you might have, the way you’ve been treating me.”

Those three sentences were all it took to force the shock out of your system and flood it instead with frustration and anger. You clenched your fists into useless balls, rattling your cuffs as you did.

“I haven’t been treating you any way,” you said. “Not since INSIGHT. Not since Hydra.”

You glared in the direction from which Brock’s voice had issued, but still you could see no sign of him. Wherever you were, there were no windows. He had to be there, though; you hadn’t heard him move away or out. Sure enough, when he spoke again, he sounded close by:

“Don’t pretend that you leaving had anything to do with either of those.”

“Oh yeah? And why else would I leave you? Because you’re such a wonderful person, I’d be a fool not to stay?”

This time, the silence that stretched out after your final question lasted long enough for you to start wondering if Brock really was in there with you. He always did know how to stay silent and still–a boon working as the head of STRIKE–but even he had to shift sometimes, even he had to breathe. Maybe he had an intercom rigged up. You tried to hold your breath to listen for him again to no avail. Then you did hear a breath, a long, rattling almost laugh.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A click sounded just before the room was flooded with light. Your eyes snapped shut to avoid the pain that surged through your already throbbing head for what little good that did. “How about this?”

It took you a few seconds to force your eyelids back open. Sure enough, your left would hardly move. Through what remained of your field of vision, you could not see much through the sudden haze of light–not much outside of a dark shape in the corner of the huge room, that was. You blinked, and the figure came into focus: a dark-haired man sitting against a wall of security deposit boxes, and wearing thick, dark armor. As soon as your gaze reached his face, Brock grinned.

“Normally I wear the mask.” He stood, gesturing to a helmet sitting by his feet. It, too, was black, but with a skull blasted across its face in white paint. Then Brock kicked the mask to the side and strode purposely over to where you were clamped to the chair. “But I don’t need to wear it for you. No secrets between us, [Name]. Isn’t that right?”

Up close, you could see his features better even through your damaged eye. However you looked, you definitely looked better than Brock. His face was a twisted mass of reddened flesh. As you took his new appearance in, he drew closer, leering down at you. You shrank away, but all this did was make him chuckle.

“I thought so. Couldn’t stand to be with someone so ugly, could you?”

You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t see that before I left.”

Brock laughed again. “You’re a damn shitty liar. Always have been. You think I didn’t know? You think I was deaf and dumb under all those bandages? You think I had any delusions that my girl would stay by my side after Captain America demolished a building on top of my fucking face?!”

His voice rose in volume and intensity, and with each sentence, he thrust himself further into your personal space. You made yourself stay in place, though your heaving chest betrayed your fears.

“I left because you were working with Hydra, Brock,” you said, willing your voice to stay even. “Because I don’t want to be with a terrorist–”

“Terrorist!” he shouted, and for one blessed moment he stepped away from you. Unfortunately, he was soon back and closer than ever, his nose practically pressed to your own. “I’m a mercenary, sweetheart. I work for the highest bidder, and don’t you go pretending you’re not just the same as me.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t work for Hydra. I don’t work for SHIELD anymore either. I’m doing real work, good work, with the–”

“With the Avengers. Yeah. I heard.”

Despite his claims to have already known about your present employment, Brock appeared put off by the news. He turned away from you, pressed his hand to his mouth, and shook his head. You took advantage of his distraction to again attempt to get at least one hand out of your shackles. Too bad they seemed to be made for someone much, much stronger than you.

And then Brock was back, smiling so widely that his eyes turned to half-moons inside their scarred lids.

“I was good to you, wasn’t I? Brought you flowers, like a good boyfriend. Took you out for dinner. Walked you home from work, cuddled with you at night, bought your goddamn tampons! And what did it get me? What good did any of that do?”

To that you had no proper response. All you could do was stare, captivity momentarily forgotten in the light of the dawning realization that your ex-boyfriend had gone completely insane. Yes, Brock had done all of those things for you, for years. You had been happy with him for all those years. You had thought you’d been lucky to be with the guy that headed STRIKE, one of SHIELD’S golden boys, the most handsome man in the whole organization. All the same:

“I don’t date Nazis,” you snarled.

“Is that what you think I was? A Nazi?” Brock shook his head, but then seemed to drop the subject, his mind wandering as his dark eyes traveled up above your head. “Never let the higher ups take you in, either. Wasn’t like they didn’t want to. Good enough to be an Avenger, Agent [L Name]. Could’ve had you conditioned by someone who knew what they were doing, and we would have never been in this mess.”

“What mess?” you asked, if only to keep Brock talking. A little further, and you thought you might have a chance of dislocating your wrist just enough to slip out of Brock’s restraints.

Brock said nothing.

“Brock,” you said once more, “what mess?”

He seemed to only then remember you were there. His eyes drew slowly down until he was staring right into yours, seemingly oblivious to your desire to get free. “

Tell me you still love me, [Name],” he said, sounding almost normal.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me you still love me,” he repeated. “Tell me you still love me, and none of this has to happen.”

“None of what has to happen?”

“Just tell me that you’ll take me back! The rest of it doesn’t matter. Just tell me that you still love me!”

You mustered all of your energy, looked Brock dead in the eye, and spat in his disgusting face. He froze.

“The man I fell in love with was just that–a man.,” you said breathlessly. “What are you? Some burnt shell, that’s all that left. Not even enough courage to take me on face to face. You’re pathe–”

One thickly gloved hand shot out viper-fast and put your jaw in a vice grip. Brock’s lips pulled back into a snarl that gave way to another laugh that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Careful, [Name]. I brought you here to kill you. Don’t make my job too easy.” He winked, a gesture that you did not return. His smile faded as his fingers gripped your chin even tighter. “Either you’re leaving here mine, or you ain’t leaving here at all.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been babbling since you got me here. Tell me what your plan is, if you’re so proud of it.”

He considered you for a long moment–too long. Your jaw ached; you could feel his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. At last, he released you, then gestured up to where he had been looking only a few minutes before.

“You’re sittin’ in a real special chair, darling,” he said as your own eyes traveled upward.

Your heart gave a great thud as you realized exactly where you were. You’d seen the Winter Soldier’s files, and unless you could get out of there, you were screwed.

“Brock–”

“See, this here bank’s a front for Hydra,” Brock went on as though he couldn’t hear you. Who knew? He was far gone enough that maybe he couldn’t. “But they dropped it like a hot potato after Rogers fucked over Project INSIGHT. Once upon a time, they used to strap Cap’s old war buddy into this and fry the living daylights out of his skull. Only saw it done a few times myself, but how hard could it be?”

“You wouldn’t.”

His new, predatory smile returned. “Wouldn’t I? How do you know I haven’t already done it? That’s what this setup is for, after all. Memory loss. And I want you back pretty damn bad.”

He had a good point. Your head definitely felt like it had been put through the ringer–but unless a lot more time had passed than your body could account for, you still had all your memories. In fact, you had enough memories to know that you weren’t about to beg this man for your life.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” you said in as dangerous a voice as you could muster.

Brock ignored you, walking over to where a very obvious lever had been installed near your chair. Before you could say anything more, he pulled it, and your chair–Bucky’s chair–shifted slowly backwards. The mechanism above your head jolted to life, then drifted down toward your head. Only then did Brock answer you:

“Who’s gonna come for you? SHIELD? Don’t make me laugh. They know about us. They’ll think you were in on it all along. A Nazi terrorist, just like you said. Always spouting the company line. And the Avengers?” Here he did laugh. “Think they got better things to care about than where you slipped off to in the middle of the night. Never got in the habit of staying in one place too long, did you?”

He was right. He was right, and what was worse, begging was beginning to seem a better and better option the longer the whirring in the chair went on. You rattled your wrists, rattled your ankles, arched your back to strain with all your strength against your bonds, but nothing moved or loosened. Of course it didn’t. This machine was built for a super soldier. What were you compared to Bucky Barnes?

Brock Rumlow’s haunting laugh started up again in nearby. His hand reached out to press your shoulder back hard against the backrest.

“Don’t worry so much, [Name],” he said. “I might not have the finesse to pick and choose what you forget, but it’ll all be over soon either way. When you wake up, we’ll either be back together or–well, you’ll believe that we are when I tell you. I’ve got big plans for us. Real big plans.”

You opened your mouth to retort. How, you didn’t really know–but any possibility of a retort vanished the very next second. All that came out of your lips was a scream as the surge of electricity from HYDRA’s brainwashing device slammed into your head. You opened your mouth again, and let out another scream. Brock chuckled one last time before he gave your shoulder a final squeeze.

“Welcome back to the dream team, [Name],” he said, but Brock Rumlow had vanished from your thoughts. The whole world had vanished from your thoughts. If you weren’t lucky, neither of them were ever coming back. Everything from there on out was pain and order, order and pain.