#shared act of consciousness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lily-bisque · 1 month ago

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✦ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎toji knows how to hit you where it hurts ﾉ hurt/mild comfort, suggestive content 3k words

A heavy, black mood settled in your living room, with you standing on one side of the couch, and Toji on the other. A wicked snarl painted his face as he leaned forward, making him nearly unrecognizable from the man you knew, the man you loved, mouth contorting as he spat venom in your direction.

He’d been coming home wasted after his shifts recently. Kicking his shoes off in the foyer, stumbling and shedding his clothing right in the kitchen, and collapsing in your shared bed without even a word to you.

Worried as you were, you’d asked him about it after the first couple of nights, but you’d only been met with mutters and huffs, asking you to lay off him.

So you did. Allowed him to process whatever it was he needed to. When it came to his occupation, he never let you in much. Never gave you the details of his missions or showed if it affected him. He liked to keep his work and personal life separate.

But now that carefully drawn border was blurring, Toji teetering on the precipice of the straining overload that was beginning to consume his every waking thought.

Even with you, he couldn’t seem to escape it.

Instead, he stopped at the bar for a drink, which turned into a couple, which turned into a concerning amount where the waitstaff kicked him out routinely from how intoxicated he was and causing a scene.

You didn’t have to know about the brutal nature of his job, he preferred it like that.

In spite of that, you began to nag and itch at him for every fucking thing. Asking too many questions for your own good, and lingering with that pitiful expression that made his skin crawl.

He could barely look at you.

And now you were cowering, fingers twitching at your side as tears cascaded down your cheeks. Saying how you couldn’t recognize him anymore.

It made him sick.

But, in truth, deep down, in the grotesque depths of his gut, twisting in shame and contrite, he couldn’t recognize himself either.

He’d wash his hands of sticky, still warm blood in some cheap motel, wringing his compression shirt of any evidence before staring at himself in the mirror for hours. He wasn’t quite sure who was staring back at him.

At some point in his wrath, he’d lost himself.

And he was beginning to lose you, too.

So why delay the inevitable?

“You stick ‘round me ‘cause I’m your new charity case,” he slurred out with malice, eyes red-rimmed as he gripped the headrest of the couch until his knuckles paled. “You pity me. I fuckin’ see it every morning when I wake up, and every night.”

You scowled, a fresh set of tears flowing down your heated cheeks. “So you’re saying all the time I’ve spent loving you was because… because–” You threw your hands into the air, chest heaving as you swallowed a thick lump akin to a rock in your throat, body rigid and shoulders tensed. “That this was all because I felt bad for you?”

Your pinched face and frigid features unlike your soft demeanor made his body run cold despite the rising heat in the room. But Toji was conscientious. He left no ends untied. He always finished what he started, even if it killed him to do so in the act.

“Or to feed that savior complex of yours. You see anything broken, you’d crawl to the depths of hell to mend it,” he asserted, eyes narrowing like slits as he gave you a once-over short of nothing offended, repulsed.

But he wasn’t done, not yet. He took a sharp inhale, hoping his knees would buckle and the world would swallow him whole before his misplaced anger spoke for him.

“Easy for your consciousness to make you forget just how screwed your life’s always been.”

The nail in the coffin.

Your body went stiff as cardboard, breath hitching as your blurry eyes went wide.

Fushiguro Toji, the sole person in your life you knew you could rely on after all of these years, used the one thing he knew to hurt you. To slide the knife deeper.

You’d always been fragile when it came to your shaky upbringing, and you’d only opened up to him when you felt vulnerable with him and knew for a fact he wouldn’t judge you for your past.

And he hadn’t. He’d held you in his arms, whispering and muttering endearments and praises of just how strong you’d been despite it all. Initially, he even felt empathy as he could relate. You were one of the few people he could relate to in that sense.

Yet somewhere along the way, his mind had become such a muddled mess of his emotions. He was no longer rational. He couldn’t see straight.

But Toji emanated no regret, no remorse, not a sliver of empathy. He just stood there, his body stock, still save for his heaving chest, a prominent, smug grin on his mouth, like he was fucking proud of himself.

Your breaths quickened, the edges of your vision darkening as a horrible sense of dread washed over you.

You needed to get out of here.

Looking back, you couldn’t remember much, how you scrambled to shove your things into a small duffel bag and the loud sobs that left your lips as you did so.

You didn’t remember to grab your toothbrush or any underwear.

Didn’t grab a single photo to keep with you.

All you could make out of that night was the way Toji didn’t move from where he stood. He was like a statue, feet planted in stone behind the couch, imbued in the very ground below him. Not sparing even a glance in your direction.

He became a ghost in his own home.

You didn’t care that it was freezing outside. Nothing could rival the icy chill in your bones.

Didn’t care that the motel that you checked into probably scammed you in your frantic state.

Didn’t bother changing out of your clothing littered with your tears and snot.

Didn’t bother sliding beneath the blanket, the itchy linen would do nothing of comfort for you now.

You just curled up, a pillow in your arms as your eyes became dry wells, empty and staring blankly ahead.

There were some things with Toji you could forgive, like his spending habits or snarky attitude, but this was too simply too much.

You knew his words had now torn the already frayed edges of your psyche. You were inconsolable, and left to mend the shattered pieces of yourself all on your own.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You weren’t sure how many days you’d now spent at the motel. In truth, you didn’t care if it drained your savings.

There was nowhere else for you to stay, no second home you could go to to get back on your feet. You’d managed to leave your personal documents back at your place with Toji, but you’d be damned if you took a step inside of there right now, a home haunted by memories with the person you thought you’d be buried beside.

So you went to work. A bleary job at the convenience store around the corner. Selling cheap cigarettes, gum, beer and gas for hours on end. Mind mushed and eyes puffy and blank as you punched something into the screen you weren’t quite registering.

Small talk was stifling, like a vice to your throat.

You felt like you’d been submerged in ice water–your head just beneath the surface as everything dulled to a murmur, your body settled in a consistent, stabbing chill. You were slowly suffocating, the one thing that made it easy to breathe now wrapped around your ankle and tugging you deeper.

You took on extra shifts, terrified to go back to the motel alone and stare at the wall, nothing to distract you from the ache in your chest.

Your manager asked if you were alright after eyeing your withered state. You gave them feigned reassurance and a smile that hurt your cheeks.

Your appetite was practically nonexistent. You’d pick at the reheated pasta you attempted to shove down your throat the previous night before tossing it out.

Sleep was of no evasion–restless nights spent tossing and turning, sweat like a second skin, as you replayed moments and were unsure if you’d made them up or if they were true.

You began to shuffle through life, enduring one day after another as they blended depressingly into each other, a montage of gloomy moments strung together.

Until something out of the ordinary fizzled into your reality–your detached mind wasn’t quite sure if you were dreaming or not. An issue you’d become familiar with as of late.

You ignored it, walking past it without a second glance and shut the motel door behind you before dragging your heavy limbs towards the shower.

But then there it was again. Same place, but it looked different, new clothing.

You squinted your eyes, clearing your hoarse throat, then stared blankly ahead at your door before stepping in your room and locking the door.

Then, on the third day, they walked towards you and wrapped a firm, familiar hand around your wrist and pulled you towards them. You couldn’t make it out, their voice muffled as you were still in the depths of that lake, before your vision cleared and you deciphered their face.

Your heart rate quickened as your eyes went owly, pulling away from his grip. But he held fast, still speaking but you weren’t hearing a word of it. Like a Chinese finger trap, each wringing movement only made him tighten his grasp.

“Let go,” you coughed out, mouth desert dry as you hadn’t had a lick of water in days. You were too weak to free yourself from his unrelenting grip from days of not taking care of yourself.

His forearms that looked to be cut from marble, flexed when he saw how you trembled in his grasp, bile tasting on his tongue as he made it known to himself exactly whose fault it was that made you like this.

You were unrecognizable, that gleam in your eyes he’d seen when he first met you, the fire in your eyes snuffed out.

You fought against him, strangled shouts of demanding he release you, face coiled in anger with something fractured just simmering beneath the surface, your cries broken and shrill.

He couldn’t meet your eyes, nor could you meet his.

He averted his gaze, his composure faltering by each passing second, his tongue a thick wad of muscle resting in his mouth. He was far too ashamed to utter anything to you.

The sky was now tempestuous, a deep and dark grey that held heavy above your heads, mocking the turmoil coiling between the two of you.

Toji was too ashamed of an admission that if he could take it all back, he would. That he desperately needed you, not the other way around. That he’d been pulverised to something he couldn’t recognize in your absence.

That the one thing that remained true was that you didn’t pity him, but he pitied himself to accept such unconditional love. He was so deeply insecure that he pushed away anything when it got too hard, when it began to puncture the bubble of safety he’d wrapped so carefully around himself over the years.

Your fists pounded into his chest, and he wanted to claw at the ache in his chest that seemed to grow with each passing second.

In your flailing state, a man of such formidable strength could easily have subdued you.

But Toji was weak when it came to you–you’d stripped him bare to his smallest, most repulsive layers and still loved him when you held them in your palm.

His teeth gritted against each other each moment he recalled just how spineless he’d been when you were simply reaching out. Toji couldn’t even reach you halfway, no. He sliced any tether that held the two of you together.

But he’d rather meet an early demise than not have you in his life. He was going to work at it, every single day, until he could hold you in his arms as his again. Until he could pepper kisses against the column of your neck in a way that made you squirm, until he could trace the dips and curves along your form, until he could watch the expressions you made as you unraveled beneath him, whining and exposed to your rawest nature as he pushed into you.

Your body began to tremble as you exhausted your efforts, out of breath and muttering cries to yourself under your breath mixed with curses condemning Toji to hell.

Until your tears worked their way up again, your body weakening as you convulsed in his tight hold of your arms. Until you collapsed against his chest.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his jacket, face digging into his chest like you’d done thousands of times before, pleading to Toji something neither of you could understand.

Did you want him to free you from this hellish torment? Spare you from any more of his hurt? Or for him to hold you like his again?

For the first time Toji could count, his hands trembled. They wavered above your back with reluctance. Your tears stained his shirt, wetting the skin beneath and burning him. Reminders that these were tears he caused.

He felt like he couldn’t breath, his lungs stuffed with cotton. His legs were rendered useless as he could barely take a step forward, or backward.

He needed to move. He knew it, he repeated it over and over in his blank-slated mind until he was able to will himself to do so.

The two of you had yet to notice the drops of water that sprinkled onto the pavement, slicking the ground.

With apprehension, his hand brushed against your back, a warmth suddenly heating his palm, calloused from years of strain. He began to question if he even deserved such an act, rendering him foolish as he started to skim his fingers through your hair.

He had been so catty and abrasive with you, pouring anything good he had with you down the drain with a couple sentences of words to hit you where it hurt.

He tugged his bruised bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing at the same spot he’d been doing for days. The difference was he tasted copper on his tongue now.

You don’t know how long the two of you stood there, bodies drenched from the rain, hair matted with water, clothing that clung uncomfortably to you.

A hiccup left your lip well after your sobs died down.

Toji slipped a hand into your pocket, pulling your motel keys from them before lifting you into his arms.

You didn’t fight him this time, resigned to your exhaustion and something else you didn’t want to address.

He kicked the door shut after stepping in, expression sober as he walked straight for the bathroom, not even caring about all of the mud and rainwater he’d tracked in.

He sat you on the counter, then turned the shower faucet on.

You sat limp, nose stuffed and sniffling, skin paled.

He began to undress you carefully, tugging your top over your head and slipping your jeans off along with your panties. He unclasped your soaked bra and tossed it on the pile on the ground, then began to undress himself.

You weren’t entirely focused on all of his movements, something akin to familiarity wrenching in your chest.

He pulled you off of the counter and carried you into the shower before letting you settle on your own two feet.

He grabbed the measly bottle of motel shampoo and began to work it through your hair, the hot temperature he’d always shower with scalding your skin.

You stood there, letting him work the suds off before he began to scrub away at your body.

Toji had always been a rough-handed man, but the way he tended to you so delicately, like you were a prized piece of China he held in his palm, afraid to crack it with his brute, made you nauseous.

You stood there as he cleaned himself off.

The air was steamy and suffocating, a humid temperature billowing before he shut the water off.

The two of you smelled of the same soap.

He wrapped you in an abundance of towels, making sure to wipe away any lingering tears. His feather-light touch made you shiver as he dried you off.

He propped a window open, before making the bed.

Sifting through the cabinets, he found a hairdryer and did his best to figure out how exactly they worked before ruffling it through your hair.

You shut your eyes, for a moment pretending like everything in the world wasn’t wrong when it was starting to feel right.

His meaty fingers attempted to braid your hair back, but it looked disheveled and disarrayed.

You didn’t care.

He lifted you up once again, the both of your bare skins grazing against each other in a matter so intimate you could feel your heart sinking to the depths of your gut.

He lifted the sheets, before laying you down.

Then he laid beside you.

Without a moment of hesitation, like it was second nature, he pulled you against his chest, his bulky arms engulfing you in his large form.

Your breath stilled as his breaths began to pick up, his heartbeat quickening beside your ear.

You felt something wet touch your scalp.

He cradled you like a dove.

And then he began to whisper your name out, heady and abject. His voice was swimming with repentance as it started to crack.

He apologized profusely, in a hushed tone for only you to hear. Swore on you like you were his salvation. In his misery, he beseeched you to curse him, a promise that he’d never forget, whispered in the night.

Nothing was fixed, not right now. You weren’t sure if it ever would be.

You weren’t sure how to describe the gnawing feeling in your gut.

Toji could barely rest without your forgiveness, but for now, this would have to do. Your breaths synced, chests rising and falling in tandem, as slumber took the both of you.

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arayapendragon · 4 months ago

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dr. jacobo grinberg, the scientist who went missing for researching shifting 🗝️

the man, the myth, the legend. being a keen enthusiast of the human brain from a young age, dr. jacobo grinberg was a mexican neurophysiologist and psychologist who delved into the depths of human consciousness, meditation, mexican shamanism and aimed to establish links between science and spirituality.

grinberg's theories and research can be tied to reality shifting, seeing as he explored the fusion of quantum physics and occultism. being not only heavily established in the field of psychology but also a prolific writer, he wrote about 50 books on such topics. he was a firm believer of the idea that human consciousness possesses hidden and powerful abilities like telepathy, psychic power and astral projection.

the unfortunate loss of his mother to a brain tumour when he was only twelve not only fuelled his interest in the human brain but also pushed him to study it on a deeper level, making it his life’s aim.

he went on to earn a phd in psychophysiology, established his own laboratory and even founded the instituto para el estudio de la conciencia - the national institute for the study of consciousness.

despite sharing groundbreaking and revolutionary ideas, his proposals were rejected by the scientific community due to the inclusion of shamanism and metaphysical aspects. on december 8th, 1994, he went missing just before his 48th birthday. grinberg vanished without a trace, leaving people thoroughly perplexed about his whereabouts. some believe he was silenced, while others believe he discovered something so powerful and revolutionary that changed the entire course of reality, or well, his reality.

grinberg's work was heavily influenced by karl pribram and david bohm's contributions to the holographic theory of consciousness, which suggests that reality functions the same way as a hologram does. meaning, reality exists as a vast, interconnected macrocosm. it even suggests that all realities exist among this holographic structure.

lastly, it also proposes that the brain does not perceive reality, rather actively creates it through tuning into different frequencies of existence.

this not only proves the multiverse theory (infinite realities exist), but also the consciousness theory (we don’t observe reality, but instead create it).

grinberg’s most notable contribution was the syntergic theory, which states that, “there exists a “syntergic” field, a universal, non-local field of consciousness that interacts with the human brain." - david franco.

this theory also stated that

the syntergic field is a fundamental and foundational layer of reality that contains all possible experiences and states of consciousness.

the brain doesn’t generate consciousness, it instead acts as a receiver and its neural networks collapse the syntergic field into a coherent and structured reality.

reality is created, not observed.

we can access different variations of reality (which is the very essence of shifting realities)

the syntergic theory is even in congruence with the universal consciousness theory (all minds are interconnected as a part of a whole, entire consciousness that encompasses all living beings in the universe).

grinberg concluded that

all minds are connected through the syntergic field

this field can be accessed and manipulated by metaphysical and spiritual practices, altered states of consciousness and deep meditation.

in conclusion, the syntergic theory proposes that our consciousness is not a mere byproduct of the brain, but rather a fundamental force of the universe.

grinberg was far ahead of his time, and even 31 years after his disappearance, the true nature of reality remains a mystery. regardless, the syntergic theory helps provide insight and a new perspective on how we access and influence reality.

summary of grinberg’s findings:

the brain constructs reality

other realities exist and can be experienced

other states of consciousness exist and can be experienced

consciousness is not limited

all minds are connected through the syntergic field

shamanic, spiritual, metaphysical and meditative practices can alter and influence our perception of reality.

some of grinberg's works that can be associated with shifting:

el cerebro consciente

la creación de la experiencia

teoría sintérgica

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corvusblackk · 3 months ago

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what exactly makes you think that you’re stuck here?

this is a reality just like the others, just like the ones you’re desiring to shift to. they may seem opposite yet they share the same factor of existence after your consciousness.

you shifted here. you did so with your choices, thoughts, and actions, so it’s not a case you’re here, you decided to become aware of this current reality and now you mistakenly think this is your “main” state. it’s not. you can shift to infinite other realities just like you did to arrive here. how? by becoming aware. you’re your desired self from now on, think like them, act like them. you’re in your desired city and you’re falling asleep there. you’ve got your dream job, how does that make you feel?

sick of this current reality? stop acknowledging it and start noticing your desired destination. make it real with your assumptions.

#reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #desired reality #shiftblr #how to shift #law of assumption #manifestation #loa blog #neville goddard

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from-izzy · 4 months ago

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[00:35] | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“And if I do?”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au

genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too

word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.

But he didn’t want to.

In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you.

He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.

“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?”

San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.

“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”

San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”

You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.

“See?” He reprimands.

You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second.

Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.

Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”

Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.

“And if I do?”

Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.

“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet

@haneul-and-clouds @jaehunnyy @mars101

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saeist · 5 months ago

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what people don't know about sae itoshi is that despite being known as the nonchalant final boss, he's actually the most chalant person known to man when it comes to his lover

it's quite hilarious really. people who know about your relationship usually come to you and ask how the soccer super star prodigy has been treating you but you always answer the same— he's treating you well

although people don't really buy it. the way sae acts around you in public is rigid at best. yes, he's your boyfriend and yes, he loves you very much but when you two are out and about, media outlets just can't help but publish articles about how the famed midfielder is totally "an emotional unavailable partner" (sae reports every single article about this btw)

sae itoshi is a man of few words. letting his actions talk for him is one way to put it

but behind closed doors? it's another story

it might be considered a legend that the sae itoshi is actually a pretty hands on boyfriend. in fact, sometimes it becomes a little too much when he dotes on you so much

one time you texted him that you had a headache for a while now and you almost forgot who you were texting the second he replies that it's because you didn't do this and that today

[3:14 PM] mi corazón: ? [3:14 PM] mi corazón: did you drink water today? i didn't see you drink before i left for training [3:15 PM] mi corazón: have you eaten? fucking hell don't tell me you "forgot" to eat again because you were caught up at work? [3:16 PM] mi corazón: wya? i'll order you food. ask your shitty co workers what they want too so i can treat your department while i'm at it. tsk [3:17 PM] mi corazón: tsk. what will you do without me [3:17 PM] you: sae... it's just a headache.... it's hot out today [3:18 PM] mi corazón: you forgot to bring the fucking umbrella i got you from pasotti? [3:19 PM] you: ykw i don't have a headache anymore [3:20 PM] mi corazón: read 3:20 PM

another time was you had joined him into going on a hike with his friends (shidou and aiku) and you accidentally had spluttered mud all over your legs

aiku and shidou were kind enough to stop so you could clean yourself up but you simply brush it off and say that it's part of the nature experience of hiking but sae thought otherwise

he grabbed a wet wipe from his backpack (another hc: he comes prepared like a boyscout with shit like this like personal hygiene shit💀), kneels down behind you and starts wiping the mud off your legs

much to everyone's surprise

"be careful next time" sae mutters, wiping the last bit of mud on your calf before disposing the now dirty wipes away

when you don't say anything, sae looks up and raises a brow

"what?"

he then watches your eyes motion to the bystanders being aiku and shidou, who both had their jaws dropped to the floor

who knew their little soccer super star friend could be this down bad to their lover?

sae immediately gets up from the ground, brushing his trousers as he clears his throat. as if that could erase that beautiful moment shared with you from aiku and shidou's minds

"tsk. don't make a big deal out of it" sae clicks his tongue in annoyance as he leads the pack back on the trail. consciously ignoring aiku and shidou's loud giggles and teasing

sae knows damn well that they won't ever live this down but who cares. if it's you, he'd do anything in a heartbeat

a few weeks pass by and wow, was sae right. those two idiots did not in fact live it down. so much that they just had to leak it to the media that the nonchalant final boss, sae itoshi isn't the final boss to nonchalance after all

the first thing he sees on his phone was a new article posted by pop base

[EXCLUSIVE] SAE ITOSHI ISN’T EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED AFTER ALL? JUICY INSIDERS SCOOP!

when he takes a peek at the article (before he reports it), it was oddly specific and detailed about that one hiking trip you had a few weeks ago. he didn't have to put two and two together to figure out who these "juicy insiders" were

"god damn it" sae clenches his jaw as he continues to skim through the article

suddenly sae hears you burst out laughing from the living room

oh no.

sae trudges to your shared living room with your own cup of kombucha for the day and sees you laughing your ass out while reading the same article

"stop reading that" sae groans, settling down the cup on the coffee table. he takes a seat next to you and leans his head on top of yours

"they're right you know" you giggle, reading the article "for a guy who acts all cold and collected on the outside, you sure are the exact opposite on the inside"

sae rolls his eyes, "gee. i wonder where they got that information from. i'm going to kill both of them" he mutters, pertaining to shidou and aiku

"you're just embarrassed that you've been exposed for the secret lover boy you are"

"they don't need to know what goes on behind closed doors" he points out. true

"okay lover boy. whatever you say" you laugh, holding your hands up in surrender. there was no point with arguing with sae when it comes to shit like this

there's a moment of silence after that. you glance up to catch sae quietly looking at you. like he was all caught up in the moment within your shared humble abode

"jesus. you really are down bad" you gasp quietly, covering your mouth pretending to be shocked. sae snaps out of his little trance hearing your words and flicks your forehead

"am not!"

"are so!"

"no!"

"yes!"

"i love you" you interject, catching sae slightly off guard

you meet sae's eyes as they soften. he simply shrugs and wraps an arm around your shoulders as he pulls you close to his chest

"and i love you more— now stop reading that stupid article before i report you and that damn news media outlet"

"sae!"

#i kinda ate with this one im ngl this is lowkey kinda funny #sae imagines #sae x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #sae itoshi imagines #sae itoshi x reader #by ads ⭑.ᐟ #saeist... you've done it again we fear...

1K notes · View notes

darkmatilda · 6 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your relationship is still very new, and you're getting ready to tell the rest of the team about it. in the meantime, you find yourselves again in another unusual hotel...where suddenly spencer starts acting very strangely?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses spencer reid x newbau!female!reader, fluff, intimacy conversation, spender being adorably shy

𝐚/𝐧: 'matilda how many more times are you gonna write that one bed trope' AS MUCH AS I CAN TILL I DIE btw i wrote this fic over a pretty long period of time, had a main idea (supposedly), but in the end i'm not happy with how it turned out—kinda all over the place. anyway, enjoy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k

"My five dollars"

Spencer sighed and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the slightly crumpled bill. You closed it in your hand, a triumphant smile on your face.

"Let's make bets more often, darling," you suggested.

When you used that nickname, his gaze briefly flickered over your face, as if studying whether it had been said purely in jest.

"You’re puffing up like you just invented the wheel," he said, gently shaking his head from side to side. "And just to remind you, all you did was park parallel."

"Parked parallel, indeed. And my coffee?"

He also handed you the paper cup he’d been holding while you performed those incredibly complicated car maneuvers that the bet was about. It was morning, the first day back at work. January, the first days of the new year. You had just arrived at the office parking lot in your car, after spending the night at your place. Everything around you still seemed to smell of that melancholic blend of the past mixed with the fresh scent of the coming months. And coffee, bought at the café on the way.

You took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Spencer, it seemed, hadn’t touched his even once. Both of you, consciously or not, were stretching out the moment just a little longer. And, truth be told, you could afford to. The parking lot around you was only beginning to fill with cars, suggesting the early hour. It was nice to sit there together, sharing the quiet without any discomfort.

You realized this was supposed to be your first day at work as a couple.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through you at the sound of that word, even though you hadn’t said it out loud. It still felt a little unreal. You had grown closer during the New Year’s Eve party at your place. It was only after that shared—and not just one—kiss that a new perspective dawned on you about the past months of your relationship, revealing some undefined emotions.

"I was wondering..." Spender suddenly began, his brows furrowed slightly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

His gaze suddenly fell on his watch.

"We still have some time," you reassured him calmly. "Let me guess. You've been wondering what would happen if we crossed the DNA of a jellyfish that can reverse its life cycle with the human genome?"

A small smile flickered across his face, a touch of affection despite the rather serious expression on the rest of his face.

"That too," he admitted, nodding. Then he opened his mouth, with some visible hesitation, as if a particular question was troubling him. You shifted in the driver's seat, preparing for whatever he wanted to discuss, whatever he wanted to ask. "How...how are we supposed to act...you know, towards each other? At work?"

For a moment, your brain didn’t understand what he meant. But then, a fleeting oh escaped you as the meaning of his words sank in, and you realized that it was indeed something worth considering. Somehow, over the past few days, neither of you had brought it up. You had just gone back to work, without any reflection on the fact that none of your colleagues knew about the progress in your relationship. About how it had suddenly taken a step to a completely different level.

Spencer studied your face in silence, waiting for a response. As he looked at you, coming up with a logical solution became incredibly difficult. Before you finally said anything, you let out two half-intelligent mutters, like a fish thrown onto the surface.

"We have to tell them," you finally said, stating the obvious. "Somehow. Maybe...we can meet at my place this weekend. All of us. Or we could go out somewhere, and then tell them calmly."

"This weekend?" Spencer repeated cautiously.

It was Monday.

Suddenly, it became incredibly hard to read the expression on his face. He was facing you, his brows slightly furrowed, a look of uncertainty, almost withdrawal. The air inside your car thickened, making the silence even more palpable. He seemed almost concerned, downcast. You froze, wondering if you had really said something wrong.

"So until then," he started more quietly, "are we just supposed to hide it from them?"

“I'm not sure hide is the right word," you replied with a grimace. "I just...I meant, maybe we should wait. For a better moment, you know? Instead of walking into the office on the first Monday of the year, when half the people are still nursing hangovers, and saying hey, guess what? we hooked up!”

His expression hadn't changed, despite your pretty honest explanation.

"You don't like the idea," you stated, rather than asking. You made sure your voice sounded gentle, adjusting it to the situation. "I can see that, Spencer."

"Okay, you're right, I don't like it," he admitted with a sudden coolness, his lips tightening slightly between sentences. "Because...I don't get your reasoning. Or, maybe I just don’t know if this is really what you mean."

Slightly surprised, you shook your head.

"What else could I—"

"I don’t know if it's really about that, or maybe..." he cut off, looking into your eyes as if hoping you'd understand by now. But you didn't have the skill to read his mind, no matter how remarkable it was—it was also incredibly complex. "Or maybe...I don’t know, you just don’t take it seriously. That's why you don't want to tell anyone about it."

You gasped, finally understanding his behavior. Realizing the hidden concern.

"You’re worried I don't take us seriously?"

Spencer shrugged briefly.

"You know, if that's really the case, I'd rather know now..."

You leaned in to catch one of his hands, which had been clasped over his chest. You broke his defensive stance, pulling him toward you by his long fingers, simply holding it for a moment before speaking again. With a smile. A slightly amused smile.

"Of course, I take us seriously, you idiot," you snorted. A sense of relief washed over you. Earlier, he’d seemed genuinely worried, and you’d been expecting far worse things than the fact that your guy literally paled with anxiety over worrying you weren’t as invested in your fresh relationship as he was. Well, out of context, it sounded like a very serious concern. But the context was, you took it seriously, and you were incredibly happy he did too. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Why should we make idiots out of ourselves for the next week? Let’s just walk in like this."

You motioned toward your intertwined fingers, raising them as if they were a trophy earned through sweat and tears. Spencer followed their movement with his gaze, initially surprised, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head with a quiet chuckle.

"We can do it your way," he said, taking control of your hands, clasping them with both of his. He looked relieved; your reassurance and the sincerity in your voice clearly calmed him. You smiled too, finally seeing that peace on his face. "I really don't mind waiting a few days. It might even be… interesting. One of us might not hold out and accidentally slip up."

You raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Another bet, Reid?" you clicked your tongue. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. He seemed so unaffected, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. "You already lost five bucks about…ten minutes ago. At this rate, you'll be broke within a month, and we'll have to skip that overpriced coffee downtown. Now that would be a real horror story, speaking as a citizen of the first world."

"Didn't say anything about another bet!”

"Too late," you shot back, turning his hand and taking it in a more formal handshake. "Handshakes sealed the deal."

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile lingered on his face. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

"I think we should get going," he said reluctantly.

You sighed with the same enthusiasm. You really felt stuck to that seat, right next to him.

"You know, being late on the first day of the new year should be fully justified..."

"We really need to go."

He was right. But before either of you could move to get out of the car, he leaned forward. Gently cupping your cheek, he drew you in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to vanish—just the two of you, in that quiet, perfect stillness.

His face suddenly turned to the side, noticing something through the windshield. You frowned and looked in the same direction.

"That's Gideon," you remarked out loud, even though both of you had already spotted the silhouette of your coworker stepping out of a car that had just parked a short distance ahead. He wasn’t looking your way yet, but he could at any moment. "Quick, hide!"

Okay, you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t about being afraid of getting caught. After all, there was nothing strange about two coworkers arriving at work together in the same car—it was even very eco-friendly. You just liked the idea of shoving Reid under the seat. And the poor thing, so thrown off by the mock authority in your voice and the situation itself, did it without a second thought.

When Gideon finally noticed you, you cheerfully waved at him.

"Fuck," you muttered suddenly.

"What is it?" Spencer returned to his seat, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Do you think he saw me?"

You shook your head.

"I just realized…this is your car."

"Okay, draw a straw."

"Morgan, how old are you?" You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the man standing across from you in the motel lobby. The place where you were spending the night this time was very tidy, with subdued colors, but, as tradition demanded, there had to be some sort of problem. You had one room for two, but one of them only had a double bed. So, you had to decide which two lucky people would share it. "Five?"

"And a half. Listen, we have to decide somehow. Let fate do it. The two who pull the shortest will sleep together. Simple as that."

Before you could say anything else, Garcia approached, weighed down by her bags. Yes, her—rarely did any case require her to be on-site, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," she muttered to you, setting her luggage down and hunching slightly to catch her breath. "Let him feel like a kid again for a moment. He doesn’t get the chance often."

You sighed in resignation, but before you could pull one of the purple straws (how did he even get them?) that Morgan was holding in such a way that their lengths were hidden, you glanced around briefly. Sometimes you arrived at hotels at different times, some getting there faster, others later. Spencer and JJ had just walked in, both wearing coats to shield them from the cold January air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him and his fogged-up glasses, which he quietly cursed under his breath—judging by the movement of his lips. However, you quickly composed yourself, returning to a neutral expression. It had only been two days since your agreement to keep the details of your relationship hidden, and so far, neither of you had slipped or forgotten to keep quiet around the others. Well, out of the two of you, you were probably struggling with it more—being a bit of a clinger, sometimes even your body would naturally gravitate towards his when standing next to him.

“Why are you standing here?” Spencer asked, approaching you. “Is there a problem with the rooms?”

“Is there ever not a problem with the rooms?” you responded, laughing. “Some poor souls are going to have to share a bed,” you explained, making brief eye contact with him. You were sure only he could catch the emphasis you placed on poor souls.

Of course, you wouldn't mind ending up in the same room. It wasn't about the fact that you were together—before, you’d shared rooms and even beds, and you were used to it by now. You would've probably offered it yourself, if it weren’t for the potential suspicion and that silly bet, which was starting to lose its point in your eyes. Maybe you should’ve just told them a few days ago?

“Oh,” he said shortly, crossing his arms with a bit of stiffness. His brown bag hung from his shoulder. He held your gaze for a moment, but his expression wasn’t as amused as yours. His brows furrowed slightly as he cleared his throat. “Poor them. Who’s it going to be?”

You slightly puffed out your lips slightly, watching him with a sharp look. What was it that made him so uneasy—the fact that you might not be in the same room this time?

“We were just about to decide,” Penelope replied, glancing at her friend with a teasing smile. “Morgan’s going to show us a game he learned today in kindergarten."

JJ couldn't help but snort.

“Just draw a straw…!”

You couldn’t recall another moment when all of you, every single one, rolled your eyes in perfect unison. But that’s exactly what happened when Derek once again enthusiastically explained the rules, as though they weren’t already ridiculously simple. In the end, each of you reached for one of the straws he was holding.

JJ went first. She pulled hers quickly, and it was of regular length, so it was immediately clear she wasn’t one of the poor souls. She raised her hand in a mock display of triumph, earning a few amused chuckles from the group.

Your turn came next. You approached the task with a certain gravity, as though the fate of the night depended entirely on the straw you chose. You studied each one carefully, as if their lengths could somehow be deciphered from the way they were arranged.

You wouldn’t have minded drawing the shortest straw. But only on one condition.

Morgan looked at you with mock sympathy. Your straw wasn’t even half as long as JJ’s, which seemed to settle things. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out which of the remaining two—Reid or Garcia—would end up joining you.

Spencer reached out with a calculated, deliberate motion, his eyes immediately darting to yours when his straw turned out to be...one of the longer ones.

You shot him a look of bitter disappointment before your gaze shifted to your soon-to-be roommate. Penelope didn’t seem disheartened—on the contrary, an enthusiastic smile lit up her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but you caught the fleeting shift in her expression and the subtle flicker of her eyes.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped, her voice filled with exaggerated horror, even though she’d just seemed perfectly content, or at least not displeased, at the idea of sharing a room with you. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room with her. Do you guys even know how loud she snores?”

Lies! You wanted to yell, but stopped yourself as realization dawned. Garcia was a good actress—you had to give her that—but her flair for dramatics always bordered on overkill, making it far too easy to catch her in a lie.

“I’m not used to traveling as often as you guys are,” Penelope continued in the same over-the-top tone. “I barely get a wink of sleep in a new place when it’s quiet, let alone with someone next to me snoring like a steam engine…”

“Love you too, Pen,” you muttered dryly.

“Someone has to switch with me, please,” she concluded, clasping her fingers together in a dramatic plea and pulling off the best puppy-dog eyes you’d seen in a long time. Well, at least since the time Reid had tried to coax you into reciting one of your old, cringe-worthy high school poems—the existence of which you’d only ever confessed to him.

“JJ?” Penelope turned her hopeful gaze toward her.

“Not a chance. My straw was the longest,” JJ replied, smug and immovable.

“Don’t even think about asking me,” Morgan chimed in before anyone could so much as glance in his direction.

And so, all eyes inevitably fell on Reid.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his ear, not looking directly at you.

“Well, I always carry earplugs with me…”

“Then it’s settled!” Garcia declared, hoisting her luggage with sudden determination. One of her heavy bags was thrust into Morgan’s arms so abruptly that he staggered backward under its weight. “Sweet dreams, everyone! Don’t let the bedbugs bite, and may the sheep you count tonight be extra fluffy and adorable. Goodnight!”

Just before she fully turned to leave, she sent you a quick, knowing wink.

You shook your head in disbelief, but the faintest smile danced on your lips. You didn’t even bother questioning how she knew. Only one conclusion circled your mind. Penelope could be really impossible. Thankfully, being impossible didn’t disqualify her from also being the best friend under this vast, sprawling sky. Period.

"What do you think about starting a tier list for all the hotels we stay in?” you remarked as both of you crossed the threshold of the room. Your eyes immediately landed on its unexpected feature. “Or at least the weirdest ones. Like the one with walls the color of cat pee where the power went out in the middle of the night. That one’s definitely at the top..."

"I don’t really get the point of a mirror on the ceiling," Reid said after a pause, looking over his shoulder at you. He was standing a few steps away, near the bed in the glaring white room with birchwood floors. "Who wants to look at themselves while trying to fall asleep?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. He raised an eyebrow too, not understanding why you did that. Okay, he wasn’t joking.

"You know, the main point isn’t really to look at yourself while falling asleep," you explained, with a bit of amused pity. Your gaze also briefly lingered on the glass surface above the bed, designed to reflect the bodies of people lying in bed. You thought it was a surprising addition but weren’t planning on spending too much time on it for now. You just wanted to get your shoes off—shoes you’d been wearing since sunrise—and finally lie down on something soft. "By the way, I’m taking a shower first."

Spencer only muttered something under his breath in response. Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, you cast one last glance at him. He seemed quiet—strangely quiet. Not that you were expecting his usual chatter after a long day of work; it could weigh on anyone and leave them feeling subdued. Maybe he just needed an extra moment to unwind, and that’s where his restraint came from.

Anyway, you took a quick shower. The pressure of the hot water nearly scalded your skin, which meant you’d be spared the bitter complaints, grumbling, and dramatic resignation threats from Morgan the next day. You felt too tired to linger under the stream for long. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, changed into your sleepwear, and gathered the clothes you’d worn all day from the floor.

You and Spencer passed each other in the doorway without a word.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you frowned. The bathroom door shut behind him, and some concerned question froze on your lips. For a moment, you stood still, debating whether you should ask it. But then the sound of running water reached your ears, and you figured he probably wouldn’t hear you anyway.

Instead, you decided to climb into bed, wait for him, and ask about it then. Whatever it was clearly weighed on him, and the fact that something was bothering him bothered you. Funny how that worked, right?

You spent that moment lying on your back, eyes wide open, afraid you might accidentally fall asleep if you closed them. A comfortable bed during a case—it felt like pure luxury. You were waiting for Spencer to finally emerge from the bathroom so you could curl up next to him, fall asleep to the fresh post-shower scent of him, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Just like you had spent half the day after the New Year’s party at your place—wrapped around each other, arguing over who would get up to make coffee and whether you should start cleaning up the mess from the night before.

You tucked your arm beneath your head, gazing at your fully-covered form reflected in the ceiling mirror.

“Did you find a portal to another galaxy in there or what?” you finally called out, impatient. He’d been in there way too long. And coming from you—a known lover of long, indulgent baths—that was saying something.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a gray t-shirt instead of his usual neat work attire and tie perfectly knotted at his neck. He still had his glasses on, which he might’ve forgotten to remove, judging by the way he slid into bed to your left without taking them off.

You watched him closely, rubbing at your tired eye. The shower had managed to wash away about half of the tension from Spencer’s face, but the other half stubbornly remained.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have to,” you admitted simply, watching as he carefully adjusted himself, finding the right position. The lamp on his side of the bed cast a warm glow over his skin. You were both half-sitting, you comfortably propped up against the soft pillows, and him barely leaning back against them. “But I wanted to. We really lucked out with this room, huh? Penelope is one of a kind.”

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I didn’t say a word. She's just more observant than the rest”

He nodded, agreeing with you. You thought he might say something else about it, maybe make a joke about the bet, but he didn’t. You yawned.

"You seem tired.”

“How did you figure that out, Sherlock?” you asked, your sarcasm light, without a hint of malice. “You too, by the way. Although, it’s not just that you seem tired—you are tired, at first glance. Or maybe something’s bothering you. Or maybe both. Am I right?”

He shrugged slowly.

“No, as far as I know.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, shifting into a full sitting position with slightly bent legs. You leaned forward just enough to gently take his glasses off and fold them, your fingers brushing briefly against his cheek. He didn’t look at what you were doing, his gaze fixed on your face under the soft fall of his lashes. The wonderful color of his eyes, the slight hesitation in your movements as you moved a little closer to kiss him—a fleeting, tender press of lips.

“Something’s going on, and you can tell me about it.”

“Or we could just go to sleep,” he suggested quietly. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, I mean, you yawned a little while ago.”

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. Was he really trying this hard to dodge the topic? How could you get him to open up?

“I know blackmail isn’t exactly healthy for relationships,” you started finally, turning his glasses over in your hands, “but I’m not giving these back until you tell me.”

Both corners of his mouth twitched at once.

“Oh no, what am I going to do now?” he replied with feigned concern, gently shaking his head. Then he lowered his voice. “This is exactly what I’d say if I didn’t also have contacts with me.”

"Sometimes I just want to…ugh."

"Violence isn't too healthy for relationships either."

"Just like not opening up. Remember what we talked about a few days ago in the car? You were worried I don't take you seriously. How else am I supposed to prove I'm serious if I don’t ask what’s wrong when I can tell something’s off?"

Your explanation sounded a bit jumbled, but he had to get the general idea. The reference to that specific conversation and his own words seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

"I didn’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me," he quickly corrected, swallowing hard. His chest fell, and the sigh felt like surrender. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry about it. It's nothing serious. I’m just tired...and a little stressed."

"Stressed?" you repeated, surprised. "You're stressed? But about what?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Just... about this," he said vaguely, his gaze shifting from you to your reflection in the glass ceiling. "Us, I mean."

"What do you mean?" you asked quietly, still confused, gently shaking your head. "We've shared rooms before, so if it’s about that, I really don’t get it."

"Yeah, but never like this. In a room with a king-sized bed and a huge mirror right above us," he explained, his voice tinged with embarrassment, clearly wishing he could just stop talking. "Okay, I know this sounds dumb, I know it does, but I don’t know why it’s messing with my head like this. I just...I kinda thought maybe you'd want to..."

"Spencer," you interrupted, saving him from going any further. You saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. You weren’t sure what emotion was bubbling up inside you now—whether it was still confusion or just pure amusement. "You were worried I’d want to have sex with you?”

You didn’t even need to wait for his answer to know you’d hit the nail on the head. Considering how your relationship had grown out of friendship, slowly evolving over time and shared experiences instead of a sudden burst of passion, you weren’t surprised you hadn’t yet taken that step together. It was something special in its own way—there had never been any pressure, and you hadn’t expected that he might feel the exact opposite.

So when you finally figured out what had been bothering him all this time, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"You were right, you know. It does sound kind of dumb," you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. His expression remained unreadable, his posture betraying a hint of anticipation as he waited for the rest of your reaction. "But also…I don’t know, kind of adorable? But seriously, Spencer, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready."

"It’s not that I don’t want to at all," he clarified quickly, almost too firmly. "I mean...it’d be our first time. Together. That’s what I mean. And I guess I just didn’t expect it to...happen tonight, here, of all places."

"I didn’t either," you admitted truthfully, the smile still lingering on your face. Unlike him, you didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. "I figured we’d just go to sleep, especially since we both already admitted we’re exhausted."

"Fair point," he mumbled.

"Honestly, this has to be the biggest example of overthinking I’ve ever seen anyone put themselves through, Spencer," you teased lightly, shaking your head.

For a moment, he stayed silent, but it felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he admitted finally, his voice soft. But then, you caught the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips.

He even started to laugh, a quiet chuckle filled with a sort of amused self-awareness. Meanwhile, you leaned out of the bed to place his glasses on the nightstand on your side. If he wanted them in the morning, he’d have no choice but to reach right over you.

“But just for the record,” he began after a moment, as you reached for the edge of the blanket that had slipped off you earlier, pulling it back up to wrap around yourself. Your head was only inches from the pillow now. You gave him a questioning nod. He, too, was getting ready to lie down, finally looking genuinely relaxed. “How pathetic do you think that was, on a scale from one to ten?”

You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“In the interest of science,” he pressed, “one to ten?”

“Pathetic enough that you’ll need to redeem yourself a little in my eyes,” you sighed dramatically. “Go on, I’m waiting for your ideas.”

“I think I might have a few,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

You prolonged the kiss, savoring the deep sense of comfort it brought you. The two of you lay face to face, and you gently brushed a few still-damp strands of hair from Spencer's forehead, though they stubbornly fell back into place. Eventually, you gave up with a soft sigh against his lips. Spencer kept his eyes closed, lost in a quiet bliss, even as you pulled back just slightly, leaving only an inch of space between you.

"Can I turn off the light now?" you asked, as always. The question had become a tradition since you'd learned about his complicated relationship with darkness.

He hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. Leaning over him, you reached for the bedside lamp on his side. The room was instantly bathed in darkness, your reflections in the mirror above fading into obscurity.

You didn’t fully return to your original spot. Instead, you shifted closer, resting your head comfortably against his chest. The hotel pillows were unbelievably plush, you had to admit, but that night, you chose this over anything else.

"You’re not asleep," he noted gently after about fifteen minutes. He cleared his throat. "During sleep, a person’s breathing becomes slower and more regular. You know, if you’re uncomfortable here, you don’t have to…"

"I’m listening to your heartbeat," it slipped out of you. Though it was true, you hadn’t planned on admitting it out loud. "Nothing sinister, just to be clear. I’m not planning to rip it out of your chest or anything like that. It just works for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like those videos that imitate the sound of a crackling fireplace. Pretty calming."

"My heartbeat reminds you of the sound of a fireplace?" he said, a glint of confusion in his softly hoarse voice.

You sighed, in the darkness, he couldn’t see the faint smile painting itself on your face, pressed against his chest.

"Sweet dreams, silly."

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@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @awordsmith

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spence reid

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unboundprompts · 8 months ago

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Hello! Can you help me and/or give me examples of how to write a pre-teen? Specifically a slightly mature for their age but still socially-awkward, selfless, empathetic, extroverted 10-year-old

How to Write a Pre-Teen

Voice and Language

Simple but specific vocabulary: Pre-teens might not use very complex words, but they often know and throw in some “big words” they’ve recently learned or mimic words they hear adults use. Don’t overdo it, though—they’ll often misapply or half-understand these terms, which can create natural, humorous moments.

“It’s totally, like, a catastrophe that I forgot my project.”

Expressive dialogue: Pre-teens are enthusiastic and often exaggerate. They can also shift quickly between emotions, from excitement to frustration.

“That was the best movie ever!” might turn into “Actually, I mean, it was kinda boring in some parts, but, you know, overall…”

Thoughtful yet blunt: Kids this age often haven’t fully learned the “filters” adults use. They can be direct and say things that are surprisingly insightful or unexpectedly honest.

Thoughts and Perspective

Developing identity and opinions: They’re beginning to form their own beliefs but still echo the views of family, teachers, or friends.

“Mom says people should never lie, but I wonder if little lies are okay if they help people feel better…”

Questioning and introspective moments: Pre-teens are curious about life, relationships, and “big ideas.” They may ask questions, but sometimes keep their deep thoughts to themselves, exploring them internally.

“If friends are supposed to be there for each other, why do I feel alone even when they’re around?”

Struggle with abstract concepts: At this age, they’re just beginning to understand abstract ideas like justice or friendship but often approach them in straightforward, literal ways.

Behavior and Actions

Impulsivity and energy: They might shift quickly between activities and emotions, getting distracted or excited without much control over it. They may also blurt out ideas or act before thinking, especially if they’re extroverted.

For instance, a character might immediately jump up to help someone even if they aren’t sure what to do, or they might “borrow” something without fully considering the consequences.

Physical awkwardness: Pre-teens can be a bit clumsy as they’re still growing into their bodies. This can lead to endearing, awkward moments.

They might knock something over, trip over their own feet, or feel self-conscious in ways that show they’re still figuring themselves out physically as well as socially.

Friendships and Social Dynamics

Navigating social rules: Pre-teens are very aware of social “rules” but may not fully understand them. This is an age when they care a lot about what their friends think, but they’re also just beginning to question these dynamics.

A pre-teen might want to befriend the “cool” kids but feel conflicted when they realize their values don’t align. Or they may try too hard to impress friends and feel self-conscious afterward.

Conflicted loyalties: Friendships are often intense at this age, and they might struggle with conflicting feelings if friends argue or if they feel left out.

“I really like hanging out with Sarah, but I know Emma doesn’t. Maybe if I can make them both laugh, we could all just… get along?”

Small gestures: Pre-teens often show they care in understated ways, like sharing snacks, giving a small gift, or cheering someone up when they’re down. For a socially-awkward pre-teen, these gestures may come out clumsy but sweet.

Insecurity and Self-Awareness

Self-consciousness mixed with bravery: Pre-teens often fluctuate between trying to fit in and wanting to stand out. They might do something brave but then doubt themselves or quickly retreat if things don’t go as planned.

For instance, a character might volunteer to speak in front of the class only to feel panicked once they’re in the spotlight.

Hyper-awareness of themselves and others: They’re beginning to notice how others perceive them and may get flustered easily or worry about little things, like if their clothes look okay or if they sounded silly.

“I shouldn’t have laughed like that… I bet everyone thought I sounded so weird.”

Joking as a defense: Pre-teens often use humor to cope, covering up their awkwardness or discomfort by making jokes.

Reactions to Conflict and Emotion

Quick emotional shifts: They might go from laughing to frustrated to embarrassed in just a few minutes. They feel emotions intensely and may have outbursts or react strongly to things adults might dismiss as minor.

Heroic ideals vs. real-world disappointments: Many pre-teens have an idealized view of right and wrong, fairness, and heroism, and they may be disappointed when things don’t align with these ideals. They’re just starting to understand that people aren’t all good or all bad.

“I don’t get it… why would she lie about something like that? Friends are supposed to be honest!”

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to write #how to write a pre-teen #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #on writing #writing reference

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astrofaeology · 2 months ago

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Jupiter in the Signs

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me and commenting your placement. Jupiter is a slow moving planet yet it does show have a important and significant inpact on your moral stance and deep rooted belief systems

0º is the degree which doesn't have a coresponding sign assigned to it. It's a fresh new degree and will amplify the themes of the sign that it's in

Aries (1,13,25º) You're naturally very fistey with a fireball of power in your hand. You naturally have a pioneering spirit and a have a great desire to lead and explore. Growth comes from taking risks and embracing the raw, unfiltered and adventurous nature. People may be a bit shocked at your authentic self as you go by your own rules.

Taurus (2, 14, 26°) You may be frequently drawn to abundance through consistent work, pragmatic pursuits, and a profound appreciation for comfort and material security.Though you may need to watch out for overindulgence or excessive resistance to change. Fiances and your fiancial security mean alot to you and may be one of the forefronts to your presnece.

Gemini (3, 15, 27°) This placement encourages a lively gift for communication and an unquenchable curiosity, making education and the sharing of ideas the main paths to growth. Networking, writing, teaching, and adjusting to different circumstances all lead to opportunities, but a disorganised focus or a shallow understanding of the subject matter can be dangerous.

Cancer (4, 16, 28°) Jupiter is exalted in Cancer, giving natives great emotional intelligence, keen intuition, and a protective, nurturing disposition. You naturally find their greatest wealth in your home, families, and safe havens. Acts of kindness and caring foster growth, but a tendency towards over-protectiveness or emotional sensitivity may need to be consciously controlled.

Leo (5, 17, 29°) Charm, inventiveness, and a giving nature are amplified in this setting, enabling people to express themselves freely and motivate others with their self-assurance and leadership. . However this placement is prone to being overly self confident/self indulgent, I find that these natives have a sense of natural bravdo and live their lives as if it was like a movie. Such movie magic is intranced in your soul.

Virgo (6, 18° ) Jupiter in Virgo finds purpose in efficiency, organisation, and serving others. It directs its expansive energy towards analytical endeavours, practical service, and meticulous improvement. These natives in some way do go out of their way to help and take care of others, and do have a natural apitude in writing.

Libra (7, 19°) People who have Jupiter in Libra strive for balance, justice, and harmony in their relationships; they frequently excel in diplomacy and value beauty and fair play. Social interaction and fair partnerships foster growth as we strive for a more beautiful and just world. Like with most libra placements thoes with libra jupiter have a natural affinity

Scorpio( 8, 20°) An intense desire for change, a strong sense of intuition, and the ability to decipher intricate power dynamics and unearth hidden truths are all encouraged by Jupiter in Scorpio. Though it's vital to be aware of possessiveness or an excessively secretive nature, abundance can be found through psychological insight, sharing resources, and embracing cycles of rebirth.

Sagittarius (9, 21°) This position, which is Jupiter's ruling sign, brings with it a great deal of optimism, an insatiable passion for travel, philosophy, and higher education, as well as a natural sense of luck and protection. Discovering new things, exchanging knowledge, and looking for deep truths are all ways to grow, but being overconfident or having a tendency towards dogmatism can be obstacles.

Capricorn (10, 22º) The expansive energy of Jupiter in Capricorn is anchored in ambition, self-control, and a focus on measurable, long-term goals; success frequently results from diligence and careful planning. Though a materialistic focus or a propensity to overwork can be areas for careful consideration, opportunities arise in leadership roles and laying strong foundations.

Aquarius (11, 23°) A humanitarian spirit, a forward-thinking perspective, and a desire to use creative thinking and social consciousness to advance society are all sparked by this placement. Growth comes from working together, developing technology, and pushing for social change, but it may be necessary to counteract a propensity for emotional distance or disobedience.

Pisces (12, 24°) This placement, which has traditionally been ruled by Jupiter, brings with it a great deal of compassion, deep intuition, and a spiritual, creative nature that finds purpose in selfless service and a relationship with the divine. Though you must be aware of escapism or a lack of personal boundaries, opportunities abound in creative fields, healing professions, and acts of empathy.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

#astr #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astrology #astroblr #jupiter astrology #jupiter

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melwnst · 2 months ago

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────── ⋆⋅☆ CLOSE, D.W

summary. although Dean acts like it’s a nightmare, one bed instead of two might not be the worst thing ever.

now playing ↬ Close-Nick Jonas & Tove Lo

⭑.ᐟ Oh hello! I’m back with some dean content🤭ONE BED TROPE I REPEAT ONE BED TROPE! slight mention of smut but none really! He drives me insane?!!!! Interact and send requests if u have any:) let me know if you’d like a part two w fluff!!!

word count. 798

Supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ are the first words to leave dean’s mouth the second you both enter the room.

You look up at him in disbelief, surely sharing a bed with you isn’t the worst thing ever, right?

‘Don’t sound too excited, jeez’ you mumble under your breath enough for Dean to hear as you lay your bags on the floor, still staring at the single bed sitting in the middle of this cold, dark room.

You don’t see it, but you know Dean enough to know he’s just rolled his eyes.

‘I’ll go check with them if they can change the room.’ Dean leaves before you have a chance to answer.

He might just be the most confusing man you’ve ever met.

Because he was all over you just a couple of days ago. His hand laid on your thigh the whole ride making you grow hot only for him to retract it when he felt the heat.

There’s no in between with Dean. Either he wants it, or he doesn’t, and sometimes you’re not really sure where he stands.

You sit in silence as you unpack, pretty sure that if they gave you this room, it’s because none other was available.

The moment the door opens and you hear a deep, loud sigh from behind you, you know you’re right.

Dean doesn’t speak. Instead of speaking, he walks directly into the bathroom, barely laying an eye on you as if you don’t exist.

It’s quick before you get under the covers, your mind slipping between consciousness and slumber. Your eyes open for what feels like the thousandth time when the door of the bathroom creeks open, his footsteps getting closer.

You feel his eyes on you for the first time.

Your back faces him, your eyes barely move, your breath still as if you’re scared he’ll know you’re awake the moment he hears you breathe.

There’s another sigh, then he slouches on the bed, you can almost hear his heartbeat.

When Dean turns the lights off and lays down next to you, the world is still. He hasn’t said a word, neither have you. You’re scared you might break if you dare to speak up, he might too.

It feels like a lifetime before Dean speak up.

‘Are you asleep?’ His voice is deep. His voice sounds like he hasn’t spoken in years. Like he’s scared to say another word.

It’s a couple seconds before you find the courage to turn around instead of answering. Dean’s on his back, he still doesn’t look at you.

‘I’m an asshole,aren’t I?’ He questions, although you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, you answer.

‘I mean, yeah. Maybe a little.’

Only then does he look at you. He sees the little smirk tugging at your lips, and he lets out a laugh before going back to staring at the ceiling.

‘Why won’t you let me in?’

You regret it the moment it comes out. Maybe because you don’t want to know the actual answer. Or maybe because you know he might go back to giving you the silent treatment.

He doesn’t.

‘I’m scared, I think.’

Your eyes grow bigger, because you never expected him to admit something like that.

Dean doesn’t do feelings, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them.

You stare at him almost in shock, maybe waiting for him to say something else.

You stare at him until eventually he turns to his side to face you.

His hand hesitantly drags itself to your hip, as if gravity doesn’t want it there, but he does.

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s barely audible but you’re almost sure you heard a crack in his voice.

‘I know.’ you slide closer to him, your legs stick to his, your chest feels the warmth of his. Your hands move up to his cheeks and before you know it, it’s stronger than the both of you, your lips attach.

Your lips move in synch like you’ve been starving for years.

Like he hasn’t touched you in years.

You’re hungry, you upset, your core’s suddenly hotter than ever while thinking about how he was inside you less than a week ago.

‘I love you.’ He tries to mumble in between kisses, his hands travel up, they travel down, they explore as if they’ve never been there before.

‘You have no idea what you do to me.’ His words echo in your mind like fire burning. Like sparks colliding causing massive heatwaves. Your body’s already shaking begging for him.

All of him.

Your mind should probably wander to how messed up he is. How much he’s hurt you already, but there’s this tiny bit of hope that maybe this is the last time he pushes you away.

This time he’ll really let you in.

He’ll really care.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @l0v33-rey @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!)

Guys please English is not my first language and although I’m a bilingual queen sometimes I have sentences that come out when I write and I look at them when I’m done I’m like what the fuck does that mean?? But I leave them anyway cuz they sound good are some of these weird be honest thanks love u 😭(wtf does ‘His words echo in your mind like fire burning. Like sparks colliding causing massive heatwaves’ mean dude)

#imagine #fanfic #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #dean x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean smut #dean winchester fic #dean fanfiction #dean supernatural

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dissociativewriter · 2 months ago

Text

Unnatural Affinity- Part 5

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 3.2k

cw: reader is finding her place in this part so yay! its kinda crazy though, references to illegal dealings and experimentations, blood, injury, reader is in and out of consciousness at one point, symptoms of a panic attack like twice, gunshots/bullets, throwing knives, shattered glass, its the N109 zone so crazy stuff guys, angst (its a given at this point tbh), sylus is internally freaking out but really tender, em is confused, so is reader honestly, reader accidentally drops some info she ‘shouldn’t know’, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, there are probably typos

Synopsis: Put on a mission with Em against your will, you both enter the N109 Zone. When the mission goes haywire, Em goes to the only place she knows you’ll be safe, even if she isn’t too fond of the idea: Onychinus’s Base. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but why is Sylus acting like this?

author’s note: this mission plot is probably going to be revisited honestly so just a heads up. writing sylus for this was actually pretty hard cause i usually write him in very fluffy situations so this was like ??? but i think it’s alright. now i just have to introduce caleb and then the plot will actually progress and be a little chaotic honestly :) i like how i wrote sylus in this part but i don’t know if i like the whole part but i hope y’all do <3

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel (i hope that’s everyone! <3)

Series Masterlist

The clock struck ten and you nearly collapsed out of exhaustion.Though the windows were open, the only light came from your computer screen. Not even the moonlight could illuminate the room. Rows upon rows of data were in front of your face that you could barely read anymore. Everything was blurring together, and now you couldn’t even remember what you were looking for.

The Hunter’s Association was nearly empty, the work day ending at 6:00 for everyone else.

But for you, Nero, and Em, it seemed the work would never end.

“Oh! Listen to this,” Nero exclaimed. “ ‘Informants report the ring-leader is frequently found at high-traffic clubs and bars,’ ” he read off. He looked up at you. “That’s probably to cover up any money laundering going on. Not that that’s why we’re after him.” Nero grinned, though it faded as he seemed to remember who they were looking into.

Em had been assigned to a mission in the N109 Zone, looking into a businessman that was experimenting with and releasing Wanderers. He’d been under watch by the Association for some time as a suspect, but evidence just recently came to light giving them the ability to pursue. Given the danger levels and the extent of possible effects, Jenna had assigned you and Nero to find as much information as you could to help Em.

And a close deadline.

Very close.

How did she honestly expect you and Nero to figure everything out be 5:00 a.m. tomorrow?

“Alright,” you sighed. “I’ll look into which clubs or bars that could include. I think we can finish up soon, we just need more on his motive and sponsors.” You groaned, “That could take forever, though.”

Nero muttered something in an agreement of annoyance before you both began to work in a comfortable silence, moving in tandem as you shared data reports.

The door creaked as a silver of light made its way into the room. Em entered, notably lacking the eye bags that adorned you and Nero.

“How’s it going?” she asked softly.

“Horribly,” you muttered.

“There’s not nearly enough to find on this guy,” Nero explained. “Too many security measures, too little time.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” she offered, sitting down on the small sofa near your desks. You handed her a large file with papers spilling out at the edges.

“You should go ahead and start going through this. You’ll need to know most of this, and we can’t take the time to explain everything to you over the Hunter’s radio while you’re on the field,” you sighed, still holding out the file.

Em eyed it warily. “I have to know all of that?”

“If I can learn all of it in a night, so can you.” You dropped the papers onto her lap before collapsing back into your chair.

“Wait.” Em leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Why don’t you just come with me on the mission?”

You immediately shook your head. “No way. I am not trained for this like you. I’ll get myself killed!” you exclaimed.

“But you know everything we’ll need! And I’ll protect you!”

You raised an eyebrow. “How can you protect me when you came home with bruised ribs not too long ago?”

“That’s nothing.” She waved a hand. “I promise, there won’t be a scratch on you.”

“I don’t know…” you said, not noticing Em quickly pull out her phone and type something out.

It would be a good idea just to make sure Em knew what was happening, you thought, but you were in no way, shape, or form athletic. And in the N109 Zone?

It was a death sentence.

“I’ve already asked Jenna, so the only way you can get out is if she says no!” Em grinned.

You, on the other hand, groaned.

Jenna did not say no.

In fact, according to Em, it was an enthusiastic yes.

Something about a test to see how incorporating more employees into the field would go. So, much to your chagrin, you were really just a guinea pig.

“What do you even wear on a mission?” you asked the next morning. After Jenna’s approval (which came a little too quick for your taste), Nero had shooed the two of you out, saying you needed to rest for the mission and he could finish up at the Association.

“Something comfortable and easy to move around in,” Em answered. “We might have to put on some disguises anyway, so it won’t matter.” She shrugged.

You nodded as you checked your phone again, scanning the attachment from Nero. A quick run-down on the rest of the data he’d gathered last night and a general summary of the rest of it. You sent back a quick message of thanks, and only received a thumbs-up emoji.

Worn jeans and a simple shirt, you eventually decided on. Where could you go wrong with that?

Em, of course, wore her usual Hunter’s outfit that you recognized from in-game. Though you could never understand how that corset-top thing she had could be comfortable enough for killing Wanderers, you didn’t say anything.

You grabbed a small waterproof backpack from your closet. Tossing in the files, first aid kit, a water bottle, some light snacks just in case, and (for a reason you didn’t quite understand yourself) Frankenstein, you quickly zipped it up before moving into the living room.

Em came out of her bedroom a few minutes later, smoothing out her hair as you both left the apartment.

“Do you always wear your hair down on missions?” You asked as she locked the door behind the two of you.

“Yeah.” She nodded like it was obvious. “Why?”

You shrugged. “It would just get on my nerves. And in my way.”

She laughed. “Yeah, sometimes it can be a bit of trouble, but it usually stays in place.”

You thought back to the battle mode in the game. Her hair would move, sure, but it never did get in her face, always staying pristinely straight against her back. Do the weird game physics persist even as this becomes your reality?

You froze as you exited the apartment building, watching Em walk over to her bike without a word.

Did she always have a motorcycle?

She swung her leg over, looking at you expectantly. “What are you waiting for? Hop on,” she said, smiling slightly.

You sighed, cursing Jenna for agreeing to put you on this mission and cursing yourself for actually going through with everything.

You wrapped your arms around Em’s middle, holding tightly as you desperately hoped that she wasn’t a reckless driver. She made sure you were settled before revving her bike, pushing off quickly.

You didn’t die as you made your way into the N109 Zone, but you were fearing for your life the entire time.

Em pulled to a halt in front of an abandoned building, looking back to you as you both got off the bike.

“Do you take traffic laws as a suggestion?” You groaned, running a hand through your hair.

“I didn’t break any!”

“Are you sure about that?”

The bickering between you two eased as you entered the abandoned building. Shattered glass and stains you didn’t want to think about decorated the floor. The walls seemed like they were about to collapse, slightly caving inwards, twisting the graffiti designs into something entirely different.

You inched forward slowly, cautiously watching each window and broken doorframe. If this really was a hub for illegal dealings, you’d need to be careful. One wrong step could get you killed.

This didn’t seem to bother Em, however, as she noisily stomped through the building. She looked around the building, glass crunching under her boots. “What are we here for again?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Possible meeting spot for our target,” you explained. You hesitated, watching her go through another door, disappearing from sight. “Don’t you think you should be more careful?” you called out, taking slow steps to follow her.

You heard her let out a playful scoff. “Please, don’t be so worried! I’ll be fine,” she said.

You only sighed, walking over to a round table at the corner of the room. Decorated with fading poker chips and a few stray coins, there shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary about it. Poker games were common, especially in a place like the N109 Zone, but something set you on edge. You ran your hand over the smooth wood, searching for something you weren’t quite sure of.

When you hit a divot in the grain, your breath caught. You pushed a little more, and the top of the table opened to reveal a hidden compartment.

“Just like a movie,” you murmured.

You carefully lifted the papers, skimming through experiment reports and various receipts. This is what you needed, the final piece to properly accuse before you got the guy. You carefully set them into your backpack, looking around for Em.

No sign of her.

“Em?” You called out, taking a few more steps. A loud crash echoed through the building, and…

Was that a gunshot?

You froze. What do you do? Em has the gun, so what are you supposed to do?

Maybe it was her gunshot, you thought. Maybe she was just trying to get into a locked room and shot it open.

Why couldn’t you believe it?

Back in the main room of the building, more shattered glass was dotted around the floor and part of the wall was crumbling, bullet holes bringing down the already weak structure.

There was still no sign of Em, though.

You felt your throat tighten, a loud ringing growing in your ears. You gasped for breath, suddenly feeling unable to fill your lungs.

Like you were drowning.

More glass shattered from the window next to you, part of it grazing your skin. You heard a yell behind you and caught sight of throwing knives heading straight towards you.

You felt blood drip from your cheek and became acutely aware of the gashes on your shoulder and waist. Between the glass and the knives, you’d gotten beaten and bloodied.You needed to move, needed to get out of the way, but your legs were as heavy as lead.

Multiple sets of heavy footsteps filled you with dread.

Em, coming up from behind you, firmly grabbed your forearm and pulled you along, rushing out of the door. She pushed you onto her bike, moving to sit in front of you and holding your arm against her middle as she set off.

Bullets whizzed past your head as you two fled down the street, Em weaving and dodging each of them with careful precision. The N109 Zone passed in a blur, building lights and neon signs mixing and melting into the skyline.

You weren’t aware of the time passing or the wind blowing in your face. All you could feel was the panic, the fear, the blood.

The bike screeched to a halt and Em pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around you to support you weight. You pressed your hand into the wound on your waist. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do in the event of an injury? Apply pressure?

Nothing felt real anymore, the world becoming hazy.

Was it real anyway?

You weren’t sure when you became passed out or for how long, but considering you were still being held in someone’s arms, you figured it wasn’t that long ago.

It didn’t seem like Em, though. Too big.

You heard her voice, muffled as if it were coming from far away. “…I don’t know what happened, but they found her while I was trying to get out. She got hit with some glass and a couple throwing knives, I think. I didn’t know where else to go,” she explained frantically.

A deep timber rumbled from the chest your head was leaning against. “So you decided to bring a researcher at the Hunter’s Association to Onychinus’s base?”

“We don’t have to tell her,” Em offered. “Just patch her up, and then we’ll leave. She’s unconscious now, anyway.” She shrugged.

“Not anymore,” he muttered, and you felt his eyes bore into you.

You turned to him, opening your eyes as much as you could manage. “Sylus…” you whispered, though your voice was weak.

You watched crimson eyes widen before your eyelids became too heavy.

Em didn’t seem to hear what you said, and Sylus kept quiet.

“How about you go clean up while I patch your friend up?” He looked down at her.

She furrowed her brow. “I can do it… She’s my friend, after all.”

Sylus shifted you in his arms slightly, careful not to jostle you. “No offense, sweetie, but I am much better at dressing wounds than you. And, of course, I know how much kittens need to groom themselves.” He smirked.

You heard a groan from Em before it was cut short by the click of the door. You were carefully laid on a lightly padded table, soft fluorescent lighting illuminating the room. You heard shuffling around the room, the shutting of cabinets filling the empty silence. You couldn’t lift your head, much less form a coherent sentence, so what were you supposed to do?

A warm hand grasped your arm, and you could make out the voice asking if you were okay with your shirt being lifted so he could examine your wound. You garbled out your consent, and felt your shirt being pushed up just below your chest, exposing your stomach.

The cool air against the gash startled you, though not nearly enough as the burn of the water as he cleaned it. You jolted back, now awake, nearly falling over as he gripped you by your good shoulder, pushing you back down onto the table.

“Careful,” he murmured.

Your eyes were wide now, and you couldn’t catch your breathing. He watched you with a furrow in his brow for a moment before taking your hand, pressing it against his chest.

“Follow my breathing, little dove,” he whispered. “You won’t be hurt again under my watch.”

As your breathing evened out, he watched with quiet amusement as your expression shifted into one of confusion.

“To understand one’s heart,” he kept your hand against his chest, “Be honest. It seems you use heartbeats, and I use eye contact.”

Your hand flinched back slightly, which did not go unnoticed by Sylus. You didn’t care to acknowledge his raised brow, instead wondering why the hell you were experiencing a Relax Time with Sylus.

First Xavier, now Sylus. Just what exactly was going on?

Sylus’s crimson eyes burned into yours, and you suddenly felt as if you were completely laid bare before him.

You knew he was suspicious of you. It would be odd if he wasn’t. There was no reason why you should know his name, and you could tell he was trying very hard to focus on dressing the gashes on your waist and shoulder before addressing it.

He worked with silent precision, his hands moving deftly. You watched him carefully, wondering why exactly his hands became gentler whenever you winced.

Once you were cleaned and bandaged, Sylus helped you to your feet, prepared to catch you in case you were still unsteady. He lead you out the door, keeping his hand at the small of your back.

Why did it feel so intimate?

As soon as you made eye contact with Em, she rushed towards you. Gripping your arms, she examined you, making sure you were okay.

“I’m fine, Em. I promise.” You tried to sound genuine, putting your hand on her shoulder to calm her nerves.

“You were bleeding so much, though. I’m sorry!” she cried. “I said I would protect you…”

“But that was unexpected,” you assured her. “You had no way of knowing that that was going to happen, and I was the one that wandered away from you, anyway.”

“Still,” she mumbled.

“Why don’t we just look through the papers I found?” you offered.

Em sniffled slightly before nodding. She moved to grab your backpack, though you don’t know when she took it from you.

“As touching as this is,” Sylus interrupted, “Next time you have a mission in the N109 Zone, just call me. Then we can avoid any further injuries.”

“I don’t need your help for everything, Skye! I can do my missions on my own!”

You halted for a brief minute, confused as to why she was calling him Skye, before you realized you weren’t supposed to know anything about this man.

You chuckled as you emptied your bag onto the small table between a pair of couches. “You say you can handle it, and yet we were ambushed.”

“See, kitten? Even your little friend agrees with me.” He smirked.

His smile dropped, however, as he walked over to the table. “What’s this?” He asked, picking up Frankenstein.

Before you could answer, Em jumped in. “The weirdest book ever!” Sylus only looked at her, urging her to go on. “It doesn’t exist! I tried to search it up because she was surprised I hadn’t heard of it, and boom nothing.”

Sylus hummed as he flipped through the book.

“ ‘I am malicious because I am miserable,’ ” he read. “ ‘If I cannot cause love, I will inspire fear.’ ” He let the words hang in the air for a few moments before letting out a low chuckle. “How poetic. I quite like this fiend.” You flinched ever so slightly at the word, and if Sylus noticed, he didn’t mention it.

Em sat next to you, flicking through files and documents as you tried to figure out what to do next. Sylus watched for a few minutes in silence, before taking a sharp inhale.

“Well, I suppose I’ll leave you Hunters to your mission. Wouldn’t want to interrupt.” Though he wore a wolfish grin, you could feel the tension that hid behind it.

You couldn’t feel, however, the pair of crimson eyes on you as you and Em gathered data for the next hour or so.

Sylus was very confused.

First of all, how did you know his name? What else did you know? Were you aware of his position in Onychinus?

Next, why did you flinch when he said fiend? The very title that adorned him in this life and the past.

You definitely knew more than you were letting on, but what was it exactly?

And further, why did he feel the need to be so gentle with you? He had felt no such need with anyone before, aside from Em, and even that took time. So what set you apart?

What confused Sylus the most, however, was what he saw when he looked into your mind.

He wasn’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed. You were very disoriented, after all, and he hadn’t entirely invaded your mind. Just a quick glimpse, just to check.

But the flashes he saw of another world, another life, left him scrambling for answers. What exactly you were hiding, Sylus wasn’t sure, but he intended to find out.

With a wave of his hand, he sent Mephisto into the field. He doubted you would notice him.

After all, what was so suspicious about a crow?

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