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cryptotheism · 1 year

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She awoke to a boxcar full of corpses,

which was damn lucky, because it meant she now had a one-way train ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. All that was left to do was pass the time.

The student took inventory of her body. It was the first thing she knew to do in case of catastrophic injury, but the ritual of it was almost meditative now. Start at the bottom, work your way up.

Feet: Sore from walking. The leathery sheathe of mutagenic skin that ran up to her shins was largely unfeeling scar tissue at this point. They looked and functioned like a pair of high-topped hiking boots, except permanent and a part of her body. They were a rough custom job, designed for traversing the pools of acid that dotted the necrotic swamps common to her homeland. Home. Not much left of home now. She was getting sidetracked.

Legs: Also sore from walking, but less so. The musculature was hers, but the skeleton was reinforced with carbon-steel after a fall when she was little. Shock absorbing hydraulic femurs were nice for someone who did as much walking as she did. Skin was necrotizing again. Gotta get that replaced. Maybe one of the corpses is fresh enough to provide a graft.

Pelvis: Mercifully unfeeling. The surveyor had grabbed her by the hips. Skeleton was completely replaced a long time ago, but she could feel a hitch in the joint of her left leg whenever she moved it just so. An easy fix but time consuming, and not the sort of work to be done on a moving train. No necrotization here, at this point it was all synthetic. Uterus was completely original, not that it meant much. The little bundle of braided tubes that assisted her endocrine system remained stapled to her skin. The jangling was annoying, kept getting stuck on her hatchet, thus, staples. Fluids were looking a little dark, she must be dehydrated.

Torso: Felt fine, aside from the strain on her spine from carrying her things. Even with the augments, spines in general were just poorly constructed. Flesh was scarred, lots of burns, but mostly original. Both clavicles were removed and replaced with cargo sockets. She rolled her shoulders, it seemed like everything was working well. Breasts and sternum had been removed too, replaced with subdermal bulletproofing. She had spent extra for the good stuff there. One solid hand-ground piece of sloped armor. Getting shot in the lung was a lesson you only needed to learn once. Heart was completely mechanical. She even had a backup in her bag just in case. She traded the old lung and the breast tissue for that.

Right Arm: She rolled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and stretched her arm, watching the little electric motors dance. It was strong and dexterous, with half a dozen small tools built into the length of her forearm. No need for skin. In a pinch she could perform everything from network intrusion to basic surgery. Most of it was covered by the sleeve of her heavy coat. The amputation was above the elbow. She had leased her original arm for the current mechanical one when she was working on the pit crew for for an order of knights. She ended up keeping the arm.

Left Arm: She liked her left arm. She was proud of it. The trademark of a sythetimancer. It was pretty. Biological and mechanical features blending seamlessly together. Coils of veins and circuitry making intricate braids up her arm terminating in perfect Fibonacci spirals. Softly bioluminescent blood, filaments formed from calcified nerve tissue, synapse clusters under crystal clear de-pigmented bulbs of alpha-keratin. She concentrated for a moment, allowing the whirls on her palm to twist and readjust themselves with a tingling sensation. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, all recombining into butane. She snapped her fingers, igniting a tiny flame, letting it dance along her fingers for a few moments burning and repairing the flesh as she went, spirals parting and coalescing like leaves navigating the twain of a gentle river. They looked like the little shell fossils she found at the white desert when she was little. Memories. Loss.

The spirals in her hand began to twist and pulse, little corkscrews of bone began to form, growing outwards against the thin layer of biosynthetic skin. It hurt. She winced, and regained control a moment later. Careless. She shook her arm, and the flame on her finger went out.

Head: Still a bit hazy from the pain. Where to start with the head? Neck. Parched. Currently being warmed by a scarf with a length of handmade maille hidden in the folds. Rebreather was working well because it was made well. It was made well because she made it. She made it because it used to be her job. Like everyone of her strain, she had no teeth, only two solid ridges of tough bone, largely blunt and made for gnashing but gradually coalescing into a single triangular point, evolved for ripping flesh. She clacked her jaws together experimentally. Clack. Clack.

Eyes were tired and dry. There was a short mechanical hiss and a snap as she the shields over her eyes retracted back into their sockets in her cheekbones. The only light was from a pair of grates in the ceiling, but the glare nearly blinded her. She snapped the shields back into place, and the heads up display came slowly back into focus.

Originally her skin was the sort of rust color common to her strain. By now it was a deep weather-worn red, except for the parts that were charred black and rotting. Gotta replace that. If she could grow hair, she had done a damn good job of making sure it was thoroughly singed off. It occurred to her that it might be fun to have hair one day. Maybe she could make it herself. Would it grow in spirals? She looked down to open the bag of genebending tools at her waist, and her heart jumped into her goddamn throat.

Staring up at her from the pile of corpses was a pair of bright red eyes on an unnaturally pale face with no nose or lips. Which would not be terribly upsetting or surprising, had it not just said “well met” in an oddly pleasant female voice, attempt to sit up, fail, and then ask politely if its new acquaintance would stop sitting on it.

This is the first chapter of Amber Skies. The complete story can be read here, along with its currently-in-progress sequel, Emerald Seas.

#Amber Skies #Emerald Seas

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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So did jock!yuji ask weird girl!reader to wear his jersey the first time, or did she just pull up in it as a surprise...

࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #3. team jersey.

about. the all star jock asks his freaky girlfriend to start wearing his jersey to games. it shouldn’t be a big deal, right? since she’s always asking to live in his skin and all ! ( 2K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive, college!au, characters aged up to 20s, make outs. brief mentions of self consciousness, reader wants to live in yuuji’s skin n he accepts it, supportive jock bf!itadori, weird gf + fem!reader.

“so, i’ve been thinkin’,”

from your place at your desk, you spin around in your chair to face yuuji, your boyfriend, with a curious smile. thinking things through isn’t exactly yuuji itadori’s forte — he’s one for jumping into things headfirst and doing whatever feels right in the moment. he’s always been like that, aside from two major occasions.

the first time he’d asked you out and the time he’d asked you to be his girlfriend.

those were two decisions he’d thought through extensively.

“thinking, huh?” you muse out loud, standing up to stretch your limbs. you’ve been staring at your laptop for what seems like millennia to finish a science paper for your biology class, and yuuji is supposed to be studying for one of his econ exams coming up but you decide that you need a break…and a kiss from your boyfriend at that. “what about?”

he’s already waiting for you with open arms on your bed by the time you make your way over to him — it’s a silly sight, the view of your big, strong, athletic boyfriend nestled amongst your mountain of plushies from obscure animanga series and marvel marvel movies. but it fills you with joy to have yuuji there, amongst all of the other things you love. accepting them with ease.

“‘bout you,” yuuji mumbles through a pout, waiting impatiently for a kiss as you snuggle into his muscular arms and rest your head on his plush chest.

reaching up, you rap your knuckles against his skull — brushing tufts of soft baby pink hair. “you’re corny. you should have been thinking about your exams.”

“mmyeah, but i got bored, and you’re too pretty to not be on my mind twenty-four-seven.” comes the jock’s sassy reply as he decides he no longer wants to wait, swooping down to steal a kiss from your precious lips. yuuji gently grasps your chin between a thumb and forefinger to coax more of a kiss out of you, his tongue affectionately rolling over yours while you squirm and mewl in his hold. you’re flustered, and embarrassed, and he really couldn’t care less. he likes having you like this underneath him.

when he finally lets you come up for air, itadori’s calloused thumb swipes under the swell of your bottom lip to wipe away the traces of wetness he’s left there and grind, slow and sexy, when you try to hide your face in your sleeves. “so as i was saying,” he mumbles lowly, causing your body to break out in a set of yuuji-induced shivers. “i was thinking about you.”

“yeah?” you whisper meekly, taking a peek up at his handsome face and honey brown eyes that make you feel all gooey and warm at the centre, where your heart is. like a marshmallow.

yuuji nods, tugging you into his side again, stopping you from rolling away out of shyness. “mhm,” he purrs. “been thinking about you coming to one of my games in my jersey,” he trails off, this time turning into the shy one as he casts his gaze aside. “if you’d want to.”

you’ve seen yuuji’s jerseys — the ones that come with the territory of being on your university’s soccer team. they look good on him, always, just about stretching over the firm muscle of his arms and chest. you know that if you were to wear the soft, cotton material — you’d surely drown in it. swamped by the cosy, fresh scent of your boyfriend and wrapped up in all of his love for you.

rolling over so that you’re the one caging yuuji in this time, you bite down on your kiss swollen lips hesitantly. “is that a requirement of all athlete girlfriends then?”

“n-no! i just…” itadori coughs to clear his throat, realising that it’s not so fun being in the receiving end of such teasing. his hand on your waist traverses upwards, splaying out against the curve of your spine. “i want — i would like to see you in my clothes at my games. i dunno, show you off a little? with my name across your back, it’s like, people will know i belong to you and you belong to me? if that makes sense…”

“belong to each other, huh?” you walk your fingers up his chest, drawing a circle over the place where his big heart is supposed to be. “we’re not objects, yuuji. you’re not an object to me.”

the tone of the conversation shifts as itadori sits up, causing you to shuffle back onto your knees — his hazel brown eyes sweep your face, reminding you of an amber with the way they catch the light. “i-i know that. of course not,” yuuji whispers delicately, as though not to hurt you. “you’re not an object to me either. you’re everything to me. i just think…it would make me feel good? if you wore something of mine? like, just knowing you have it. i dunno — it’s stupid.”

it’s almost biological, a genetically programmed reaction — the way you reach out instantly to comfort your boyfriend. your hand finds his amongst the cotton peaks and streets formed in your bed sheets, giving it a firm squeeze. yuuji offers you a half hearted smile in response.

“you don’t have to —“

“ — i don’t know if i’d look good in it. your jersey,” you breathe out before your boyfriend can finish his sentence. both of you pause, itadori doesn’t push, giving you the space and time to express yourself. “i want to wear it. i just, i know i’m not like the other teammates’ partners. i’m not…peppy and enthusiastic like them a-and i don’t know if your jersey would even suit me…”

the hand that you’re holding reaches up to cup your chin once more and your gaze leers over to yuuji, who only chuckles fondly in response. “of course you’re not like the other partners. you’re special, and you’re mine. i don’t need you to be anything else but the way that you are, okay? i love you.” yuuji has always been direct and worn his heart on his sleeves with his words already formed on the tip of his tongue. some might think he’s dumb, especially for a jock, but he’s the most emotionally intelligent person you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

you know now, what he means when he says he’s the luckiest guy in the world, for being with you.

you feel the exact same way as he does.

“i love you back,” you blurt, making yuuji beam at you warmly and kiss your nose. “i’ll wear it.” you tug on the fabric, feeling the fleeciness beneath your fingertips along with the warmth of yuuji’s body. “are you sure you won’t miss it?” you explore the material further as it stays wrapped around his bulky frame until you brush over the plasticky vinyl that forms the letters of his name and the number one on the back of the jersey.

i-t-a-d-o-r-i

your itadori.

why wouldn’t you want to show everyone that he’s yours just as much as you are his.

“i’ve got plenty back at my dorm, coach satoru made sure to splurge in that aspect, besides if i give it to you now… when i get it back, it’ll smell like you!” yuuji pulls back from you ever so slightly, and rolls his eyes at your pout when he does so. “then i’ll just keep changing them out,” it only takes you a second to realise that he’s stripping his jersey off, and your eyes greedily shoot to the small, exposed slit of his tummy as he does so. “perv.” comes his teasing voice once his head pops through the other end — salmon pink hair mussed and ruffled out of place.

your pout deepens. “i am not a perv!”

“mhm, yeah. sure you aren’t. now c’mere,” itadori manhandles you into straddling his lap — your knees sinking into the comforter on your bed and your hands hovering above his broad shoulders, hesitant to touch the pure muscle that bursts from the sleeves of his plain white t-shirt. “i don’t believe for a second that you don’t get off on this,” he goes on to mock you, smirking up at you despite how you glare at him. “arms up, beautiful.”

through the haze of your mind (deployed by a very flirty yuuji itadori) you’re able to follow his command — shakily raising both arms above your head and allowing your boyfriend to pull his team jersey over it. “who’s more of a perv now? you’re giving me your dirty clothes to wear.” is your weak argument, a defence mechanism to protect yourself from getting too flustered.

it doesn’t work, however, yuuji has mastered the art of making you nervous.

the material of his team jersey swamps you, it’s almost like you’re drowning in an ocean of yuuji’s scent as it wraps around you, keeping you safe and secure.

“it’s not dirty, i just put it on today!” he says petulantly. “if you’re gonna be like that, then give it back.”

“n-no!” you squeak, tucking your nose under the collar with hooded eyes. it smells like yuuji, smells like home. “i like it. it’s like i’m wearing you.”

“the next best thing after my skin, right?” he makes reference to your constant comments about living inside his skin, wanting to be closer to yuuji than humanly possible. others find it weird, but to the jock, it’s endearing. even if it means being swatted in the chest for joking about your unusual displays of affection. “c’mon! i’m jokin’, i’m jokin’!” yuuji laughs between each smack of your palm against his peck. eventually he falls back into the sheets, this time taking you with him so that you’re snuggled on his chest once more. “so…you’re coming to the game this friday? in my jersey?” he asks tentatively after you’ve both calmed down.

nodding, you curl into the pink-haired jock further, as if trying to fuse with him. “where do you want me to sit?”

“not with the others, i know they’re a little rowdier than you’d like. you could try coach, but he likes to pester you.” your boyfriend muses wistfully. everything is warm and comfortable — the steady beat of his heart beneath your head, the hand that he lazily drags up and down your spine, the heat of his jersey and his body under yours. you could sleep right now — even if you do have to study.

a quiet yawn escapes your lips and you wriggle further into the oversized jersey, lulled into a slumber by the presence and scent of your perfect jock boyfriend. “will professor geto be there?”

yuuji shrugs, squeezing you close to help you drift off. “to oogle satoru, probably.”

“then i’ll sit with him, and we can oogle our boys together.”

“awwh, baby, you wanna oogle little old me?” he coos in response, his lips finding the crown of your head.

something about his sugary tone makes you shudder in yuuji’s hold. you’ll never get over how much he teases you, how much you loves you but it makes you giddy to know that he’s yours. and that he wants you to wear his jersey, so he can already the news to the whole world.

or what feels like the whole world.

“i do yuuji, i want to see you play,” you mumble through your last moments of consciousness — gripping onto your boyfriend as though he might disappear. “i want to be in the crowd so when you look up, you see me there, dressed in your jersey, cheering you on.”

for a moment, yuuji is quiet — a thousand ways to tell you how much he loves you rushing to the forefront of his mind…but then he notices the evening out of your breath and the way your pretty lashes flutter against the centre of his chest. the jock decides it’s better to let you rest, he can always smother you with his love when you wake up.

but for now, yuuji itadori will spend his time marvelling the way you look sleeping with the letters of his name printed in bold letters across your back.

#⋆｡°✩ — jock bf!yuuji #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori fluff #yuuji itadori x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues

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ozzgin · 5 months

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Yandere!Monster x Reader [Asylum Spider]

A/N: This feels a little bit strange to post. It's an older OC (the drawing I used is like 3 years old) I had for a horror manga. I thought it would make a good yandere if you're into actual monsters. And the atmosphere is a lot like an indie horror rpg. :)

You wake up in a damp, dark room with no recollection of how you ended up here. Hovering above you is a repugnant beast whose appearance terrifies you into silence. Yet it doesn’t attack you. Quite the opposite, it seems to want to guide you outside. You must escape quickly, as whatever lurks above causes the creature to squirm in fear. Yet as departure approaches, a desire blooms within its ancient heart: must you really leave it behind?

TW: Monsters, horror, implied violence/abuse

Your vision is blurry and your head is throbbing with a harrowing, unbearable headache. You've been awakened from your unexplainable slumber by cold yet burning drops of liquid hitting your cheek at irregular intervals. You squint and try to focus on whatever lies before you. Slowly, the object becomes sharper and your eyes widen in terror. Drooling above you, a monstrosity. It looks almost human. Sharp, curved teeth are grotesquely gawking their way out. The skin is discolored, similar to the blueish tint of someone struck by hypothermia. The creature seems to be wearing a strange sort of straight jacket, tightly securing the arms and ending in a shredded rag, dangling between the skinny, crooked legs. Yet the most disturbing feature are the massive arthropod appendages that fan out from behind, suspending the abomination above ground.

The ridiculous, offensive sight drains the blood from your face and you hold your breath. You wait for the final blow that never arrives. It lowers its head and inhales deeply, trying to detect if you're still alive. Satisfied with the answer, it scurries aside and leaves you enough space to lift yourself up. The wide smile remains plastered on its face, making it look like a deformed mannequin. With nothing left to lose, you decide to risk it. "Can you talk?" you mumble, unsure about the potential response. It shakes its head in denial and you raise your eyebrows. So it can understand human speech.

You stand up and look around. There's a pungent smell irritating your nostrils, and large pipes slither their way over walls and ceilings in a maze of rusted metal. The floor is flooded and your ankles are sunken in murky water. Above the only door hangs an old plaque, eaten by mold and age. "W∎ter & Drain∎∎∎: Pro∎∎rty of ∎∎∎∎∎ Asylum". Ah. This must be the sewers, then. How did you even end up in the sewers of an asylum? Maybe someone upstairs can provide you with answers. You turn to the creature that has been obediently observing you.

"Can you take me to the main building?"

The humanoid spider screeches and trashes its appendages across the water. You jolt and step back instinctively. Is it mad? Have you upset it somehow? No, if anything, it looks afraid. You stare at its bizarre convulsions until it occurs to you the movements aren't quite as erratic as you assumed. It is drawing something using a swamped patch of ground.

Don't let find you Get out

You're choking with dread again. The ominous words send a cold chill down your spine and you shiver, helpless.

"How am I supposed to get out if I don't know where the exit is?" You demand with your last ounce of energy.

It wobbles its way towards the door, and stops to face you expectantly. Is it offering to guide you? You're not quite sure whether to trust the ghoulish creature, but the rotting room is filling you with panic.

Anything is better than being alone here.

What a suffocating atmosphere. The corridors are tall, narrow and black. You can barely discern anything around you and the only sounds are the ghastly echoes of the metal creaking and bending from the water pressure. That, and your uncertain steps across the muddy flow. You glance at the creature. Its eyes are covered by a leather blindfold, so the darkness mustn't be an impediment for it. Then again, how can it tell its way within this colossal labyrinth?

"Is this where you live?" you whisper, trying to make conversation. You need something to distract you from your pounding heart.

It nods hesitantly.

Your foot hits something and you instinctively attempt to kick it off. Perhaps some algae that begun developing in this forgotten grave. It seems to have wrapped around your ankle, so you bend down to remove it with your hands. It's a soaked sheet of paper. The ink has mostly diffused into the page, but you can still read some of the larger headlines. "Dozens have disappeared. The mystery of the abandoned Asylum, believed to be haunted by the countless victims of horrid experimentation". Next to the title is a photograph too smudged to make out.

You stop in your tracks, focused on the blurry letters. The monster patiently waits for you. Is it something to be asked? You gaze up at its features, trying to take in the details. You take a deep breath in and open your mouth.

"Did they...um...do this to you upstairs?"

It seems to ponder your question with the same unfaltering grin that now feels painfully forced. Finally, it nods.

What a strange little creature you are. He returns your curious stare. Now that he thinks about it, you must be the very first person to follow him. When was the last time he spoke to another living creature? He can't remember. The others would panic beyond control at the mere sight of him, blindly running away and getting lost in the sewers. Later he'd find their bodies quickly decomposing under the running water, and he'd dispose of them outside. No one deserves to die here. The really unfortunate ones made it upstairs, into the asylum. He'd rather not brood over it.

Yet here you are, asking questions and walking alongside him as if you were on a stroll. He doubts he's gotten less hideous over the years. Then again, he can't see to confirm. Just as he can't see you. Despite his lack of vision, he is overwhelmed by the feeling that you're a beautiful being. You must be. And thankfully, you won't have to worry yourself with any of the horrors lurking these cursed grounds for much longer. He'll help you escape.

Then he'll be alone once more. It shouldn't bother him this much, it's always been like this. But meeting you has reminded him just how much he missed the presence of another human, how dearly he longed for a kind voice. Is it selfish to fear isolation?

"Oh! You're right, I can see a gate from here." You exclaim in gratitude.

You sprint towards the rusty bars and feel a cool breeze against your skin. This must lead outside. The creature has kept its word. Soon enough all of this will be a nightmare of the past.

"I-"

The monster seems to be making an effort to speak, but all that comes out is a dissonant croak. You're confused and he can sense it.

Must you really leave him behind? He needs to let you know that he'd like to stay with you, but his throat is contracting pointlessly and there's nothing he can use as a writing surface. What is there to do? His chest is tightening with the frenzied desire to keep you with him forever.

Please don't leave him.

#gn reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #male yandere x reader #monster x reader #yandere oc #original character #yandere imagines #monster oc #horror #yandere horror #terato

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liveontelevision · 3 months

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Quick Fix | Alastor X Reader

My first smut! This was harder than i expected 🥲 let me know what y'all think <3

Preview:

"You Asshole!! What were you thinking?? What made you think you could beat a fucking exorcist without an angelic weapon? Let alone, Adam!" You were pacing back and forth in the half lounge/half swamp room. The radio demon sat on the cushioned chair by the green-flamed fireplace. He seems completely unphased, not exactly angry or sad, just empty.

"You may be strong, Alastor, but know your fucking limits! Fuck!" You scolded him, looking in his direction every so often, hoping for some kind of response. Anger, guilt, anything.

•••

You became close with Alastor after appearing in the hotel just weeks before the battle on extermination day. After constantly complaining about being bored, the demon was finally sick of it. He let you sit in during his broadcasts, have morning tea with him, and eventually become a part of his daily routine. You were less whiney when preoccupied, Alastor told you, as a way to cover his enjoyment of having you nearby wherever he went. You became closer after time due to your constant questioning. He told you small things, like the type of jazz he enjoyed, specific whiskeys he liked while alive, and his plans for upcoming broadcasts.

He was too stubborn to admit this was anything beyond wanting occasional company. And you were too dense to really notice his soft blushes that would creep across his cheeks whenever you gave him a quick hug, or how he would lay his hand overtop yours when your arms were linked, or the occasional sweet smiles that he'd adorn while looking at you.

Putting the obvious feelings aside, you became incredibly concerned hearing that Alastor volunteered to take care of Adam during the upcoming war. You did what you could during the battle, mainly shielding yourself from oncoming attacks and leading exterminators to those who were equipped to land the final strike. Occasionally, you'd notice some small black and white stitched dolls running around and taking out exterminators that you didn't notice. One's that would've surely killed you. All you could do was shelter yourself from the slaughter after the shield cracked around the hotel. You didn't get a chance to even process everything until the battle had finally ended.

No one had seen Alastor for days while renovating the hotel, only appearing once the grand opening arrived. He was chipper and devious, like usual, acting completely normal (or however normal looks on a radio demon) around everyone. He would attempt to tease you, but you were quick to dismiss him, or turn your back, or simply walk away.

When chasing around Niffty one night, after she managed to steal your jacket with the smallest stain, you turn a corner and smack right into Alastor's chest. You hold in your gasp, straining your neck to look the demon in the eyes.

"Alastor! S-sorry, see, Niffty took my jacket and i think she went that way, so i starting running and-" your quick words were immediately silenced once you saw him hunch over, holding himself up with a hand on his knee, the other gripping tightly onto his chest.

"Alastor, what's wrong? Hey, talk to me! Al, please..!" You hovered around him, noticing a small stain of blood form on his suit. Your eyes were quick to well up with tears, assuming that wound was your fault. He lifted his head to see your sorry state and quickly stood straight. He acted as if he wasnt just hunched over in pain, "Come my dear, i assure you this has nothing to do with you. No need to worry your little head." He spoke sweetly, patting your head, as if the blood stain wasnt slowly spreading across his suit.

It didn't take long for you to question and pester him into letting you follow him to his room. Just for tea, he clarified. He routinely hung up his coat as he entered his room, taking a heavy seat in his chair. You refused to say anything in that moment. You had nothing to say to him. He needed to explain himself to you. You held your cup in your hands, watching him casually drink his tea, simply ignoring the large stain across his shirt. He finally let out a sigh, wanting to end this awkward silence.

"I seemed to have taken some damage during my battle with Adam. I was quick to make the right decision, and left the battle." He shrugged off the statement as if it were no big deal. "And clearly it was the proper response, I would hate to get in the way of Lucifer's battle." He hissed out the king's name, scowling at the thought of him finishing Adam off himself.

He widened his eyes in your direction, hearing the shatter of procelain. Your hands were shaking to the point that your cup fell off your lap. The sudden sound made Alastor's ears fall back for just a moment.

"Are you... fucking kidding me??" You shouted at him, standing up and huffing your arms across your chest.

"You may be strong, Alastor, but know your fucking limits! Fuck!" You scolded him, looking in his direction every so often, hoping for some kind of response. Anger, guilt, anything.

You felt a hand wrap its fingers around your wrist, pulling you to attention.

"Watch what you say, dear. You'd be a fool to question my strength, again." He spoke in a low frequency, making your heart thump. You quickly snapped away your wrist, looking at him with an unphased expression.

"Then show me. I want to see what he did." This was the first time you spoke so strictly towards him. It shocked him a bit. He groaned and sat back in his chair, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a poorly stitched together wound that trailed from his hip to his shoulder. You tensed your entire body, feeling and looking as small as possible. Of course, you weren't the best of friends, but it still tugged at your heart strings that he wouldn't tell you about this. And as much as you hated to admit it, seeing his bare chest did make you flush.

His head fell into his hand that rested on the arm of his chair, turning his eyes away from your direction. He didn't turn back to you until he heard a small hic. Your eyes welled with tears again, and trying to hold your breath wasn't working." I-I.. i'm so sorry, Alastor, i didn't know you got hurt. I was just.. I was worried... about you." You sniffled in between your words, wiping your eyes. You suddenly feel a hand on the back of your head, Alastor pulls you in, letting your head rest against his chest. Your heart raced, worried that you'd be hurting him more and simply embarrassed to be this close to him. You looked up to meet his eyed, his smile was geniune and sweet, again. A sight you haven't seen in days.

"It's healing fine, darling, our little collision earlier simply pulled the stiches a tad, not to worry." He placed a quick kiss to your head, something you were hardly expecting.

"Was it.. scary?" You asked softly, dewy eyes still looking at him, as he brushed his thumb across your cheek to wipe a falling tear. He held his breath at your question. There was an obvious response. He ruined his microphone, was humilated by a frat boy (Adam) and nearly died. But he would die all over again before admitting his fear.

"Not at all! I've taken much harder hits, i told you, you have nothing to worry about." He spoke quickly, repeating himself to imply an end to the questioning. You looked down at his wound, audibly wincing. Reaching your hand out, you lightly brushed your fingers against the barely scabbed slash. He was quick to flinch backwards at the sudden touch, but kept still after that. He told himself it was to help ease your nerves, but he was denying the fact that your cool hand seemed to ease his pain. You perked up, looking back to him, with a determined look on your face.

" I can sew! I do it all the time! It.. It wont be medical grade - not even close- but youre falling apart here." You needed to help him somehow. Alastor was conflicted again, nervous at the idea of a more intimate touch, but.. still wanting it. Especially from you. He lets out a hum, and nods. Your eyes brightened immediately, making him smirk a bit more. "Okay! All i need is my little sewing kit, i think i left it in my room, let me get it-" you turned towards the door, suddenly becoming disoriented at the sigh of your own bedroom. You turned back to Alastor, who had sauntered over to your bed and plopped himself down on the side." O-Oh, sure.. this works." You let out a nervous chuckle, gathering some items before sitting next to him on your bed. As you got situated, Alastor laid his back against the bed, hands holding his head. He hummed a soft tune, trying to relax himself as much as he could in this situation. The scent of your room, your body so close to him right where you sleep. Where you would -

He chokes on nothing, before letting his gaze rest on the cieling.

"O-Okay, i know it's gonna hurt, so.. tell me if it's too much, i guess.." You try to warn him, slowly beginning to pull out the thick, coarse, thread that he had clearly used on himself. You cringe at the thought of him stiching up his own fresh wounds, but once you thread your needle, you focused quickly. You were very steady. One hand was placed on his hip, the other looping the bright green thread - the only color you had - through toughened skin. You tried not to get distracted but the numerous smaller scars that led across his entirety. Or by the raising of his chest as he breathed. The moment was so calm, Alastor clearly enjoying this sort of treatment.

"You're doing okay? Need a break? I'm just about halfway there-"

"Darling, what did i say about questioning my strength? If you ask agai-" you suddenly hit a specific spot that must have been especially tender.

"Yeah yeah, i know you can handle it, just making sure. And sit still!" You quickly dismissed his threat.

After a quiet few minutes, you gently tugged the thread, closing the wound as tight as it could be. The silence was calm, neither of you feeling the need to make senseless small talk. You finally sit up with your hands on your hips.

"Done!" You speak triumphantly, appreciating your handy work. Alastor took a moment to sit up. He hadn't fallen asleep exactly, but he sure wasn't entirely awake. He looks down and runs his clawed hands across the threaded wound, surprised by how clean it looked. You immediately noticed that he was surprised by the quality of your stitching, making you scoff and give him a teasing push." I told you i could help! It looks good, just thank me already." You scolded, rolling his eyes at his patronizing actions.

Alastor chuckles delightfully, leaning his body closer to yours.

"Thank you, dear." He spoke in a low tone, almost too close to your face. You attempted to turn your head away, but he was quick to take a hold of your chin and bring your eyes back on him.

" Is that what you want to hear? Hm? Or.. did you want me to repay you some other way?" He was clearly teasing, loving the absolute nervous wreck you were becoming.

"Yes, please." You squeeked out. The look in his eyes was confused, not exactly expecting you to give in so easily. Usually, you were so stubborn when he would treat you this way, but not seeing him for days on end drove you to nod in response to his question immediately.

"Hm. Well, since you worked so skillfully, i suppose you deserve a reward." He pulled you in, his breath heating the skin right by your ear." - And because you asked so nicely~" he murmured, making your face instantly hot. You took a hold of his face and quickly pulled your lips together, giving him no time to tease you any more than he already had. He swallowed whatever he was about to say and gave in to the kiss. He scooched closer, pulling you towards him by your waist at the same time. He pulled away from your lips to enjoy the breathless, flushed look on your face. The demon let out a low chuckle before taking your waist again and pushing your back to the bed, following along with the movement.

He found himself looming over your body, his hands on either side of your head.

"I'll be gentle, cher, not to worry." He spoke sweetly, quick to trace his hand under your shirt. He traced his claws up the center of your stomach and up to your chest, your top being pulled up along with his movement. It revealed a lovely dark red bralette with little structure and thin material, leaving very little to the imagination. He looked over you like he was ready to pounce. Alastor leaned down, locking your lips to his again. You parted your own lips, moving your tongue into his mouth. He flinched in surprise but did his best to conceal it. Your arms wrapped around his neck, running your hands through his hair, as you arched your back towards his body, longing to be closer. He shifted his position, since you had so rudely pulled him down by his neck, to sit atop your hips. The sudden sensation made you yelp into the kiss. Alastor forcefully pulled himself away and sat up to enjoy the desperate look on your face.

"My, my~ eager aren't we?" He teases, running his thumb across his wet lips.

"But you've done enough for me, my dear. Please, just enjoy the show." He had a devilish smile, pulling your bottoms and panties off you while he spoke. You clenched your fists onto the sheets, tensing from sheer anticipation. He moved off the bed and took a hold of your hips, gently palming them before quickly yanking your body to the edge of the bed. You yelped and sat up. "Alastor, be careful! I don't know if you should- i-if you should..." you covered your mouth, not finishing your sentence but desperate to not let out any noises, as he pulled your thighs apart, sitting in between them. He ran his lips across the softness of your inner thighs, leaving occasional bruises on the way towards your center.

He tantalizingly ran his tongue across your folds, somehow already soaked after the past few moments. He lapped up some of your juices, before flicking his tongue across your clit, circling the area immediately. The sharp sensitivity made you jolt, attempting to grab his hair, but accidentally grabbing onto one of his ears. He yelped, flinching at the sensation, but immediately flushing after. You couldn't help but giggle, hearing this powerful demon yelp.

He wasn't happy about being laughed at. He gave you no warning, before jutting two of his fingers into your enterance. You gasp, arching your back into his touch, hand still held tightly on to a combination of his hair and the side of his ear. He would never admit how much that fueled him. He curled his fingers slightly, but not entirely. And began to pump his fingers, but not as fast as you'd like. He knew what he was doing.

"Alastor..! Ahh-" you moaned out his name, grinding against his fingers. Powered by the sound of his name on your trembling lips, he pumped his fingers faster, placing his tongue back against your clit. The sensation when those two actions hit you, made you moan out even louder, your body squirming against his face. He took a hold of your leg and pulled it over his shoulder, to reach an even deeper spot inside of you. "H-Hold on, that's too much..! Al-Alastor i'm gonna cum, you h-have to stop..!" You quickly warn him, giving his hair another yank. He simply ignored any warnings you cried out, letting the feeling build until you lost control. You arched your back, your body convulsing as he continued to overstimulate your cunt. Your eyes watered, trying to squirm away from his grasp, but he wasn't done with you. He held onto your legs, refusing to let you get away for minutes.

"S-Stop! I can't.. mm- it's too much- Al p-please.." you start to beg, the orgasm becoming a slight pain in your stomach. He pulled away quickly, not giving you the satisfaction of letting you ride out your pleasure, which only made your breathing hitch. He went back in for a moment, running his tongue entirely across your folds, cleaning up the juices that were pooling on the blanket beneath you.

He pulled you back onto the bed, letting you catch your breath. He rested his head on his hand, humming satisified at your almost pained reaction.

"Well well.. was that too much to handle? Do you not have the strength to endure anything else?" He teased, faking a coddling voice. He swung his legs back over you, straddling you once again.

"I told you darling, even in my weakened state, you underestimate my strength." He gloated, wickedly smiling down at you. His pride let him go on like this for a moment, before you took the collar of his unbottoned shirt and yanked him to face you. You went on and pressed a heavy kiss onto his lips, immediately pushing your tongue back into his mouth, feeling the dampness that you caused on his chin. You went on like this to the point of him melting into your grasp, letting out small noises into your mouth. Once you were satsified, you pulled him back. Looking at him with sweet doe eyes.

"Alastor? Love?"

you pulled him closer, never giving him a chance to reply, lips pressed against the side of his head.

"Ruin me~" you let out in a silky voice. You released his collar letting him jolt up at the sudden boldness, looking into your eyes that had a lust he never expected to see.

He cleared his throat then shook the surprised look off his face.

"If you insist, Love.."

He tried to play off his growing excitment, but the way he hurriedly took off his trousers, immediately leaving his throbbing cock against your opening, was a clear indicator that you said all the right things. He barely gave you a chance to prepare, before thrusting his hips until he was completely inside of you. Even trying to play off the intimidating and strong act, you could still tell he knocked the wind out of himself. He was quick to begin moving, starting slow to let your discomfort melt away, then setting a hasty rhythm after. His claws dug until your hips, just enough to draw a trail of blood that ran down your thigh. The sight of it drove Alastor even crazier.

He began to lose his strength as he started to reach his orgasm. He fell forward, immediately biting into the flesh of your neck to anchor himself. You let out a stiffled yell, the combination of pain and overstimulated pleasure driving your body to cum almost instantly. You hold onto his back, nails scratching his skin. You could feel him shiver in response. He only went on harder trying to achieve his own high, which was quick to follow yours. He held your hips flush to his as he came inside of you, then after holding that position for a moment, he thrusted his hips into your already full entrance. You let out a pathetic whimper as he sat up, looking down and appreciating the mess of bruises and bites he managed to leave on your soft bust. He licked his lips, taking in a bit of the blood that seeped from those very wounds.

Alastor almost immediately stood up, coming back composed as ever. He delicately cleaned you up, before laying back down onto your bed, next to your still heaving body.

"Asshole, give me a second.." you managed to mumble at him, wiping tears from your eyes. You finally get a chance to look at him, seeing his devious smile. "Okay! Fine! I get it, youre still as strong as ever, get over it!" You yelled, knowing thats what he wanted to hear.

"Of course I am, cher! But.. i'll be more careful from now on, so you won't constantly pester me about my wounds." He spat out, clearly meaning to reassure you, even though he sounded pained to give in to you like that. You smile and give him a quick kiss before your eyes trail back down to his chest, half the fresh stitches ripped open. You roll your eyes before getting up to grab your needle and thread again.

"Oh my! I suppose you'll have to fix me up again! Be more thorough this time, dear. i'll have to thank you for this repair, as well."

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut

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dilemmaontwolegs · 27 days

Text

The Perfect Life || CL16 {6}

Summary: After a confusing first night together it is time for the first public appearance with Charles. Warnings: angst, little bit of fluff WC: 2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven Taglist: RETIRED Head over to my dedicated library blog @dilemmaslibrary and opt to get notifications from there.

An awkward silence filled the large space when you cut the engine inside the old factory and let the roller door close behind you. Charles rather elegantly dismounted and let you lock the motorbike up without a word. You had tried not to look at him too much after leaving the club but it was impossible to avoid now that there was nowhere to escape.

“I’m going to shower,” you muttered. Charles sat at the edge of the bed and watched you walk to the only internal door. The old plumbing creaked as you turned the hot water onto full blast because it never reached any decent temperature above warm. You couldn’t suppress the hiss of pain when the water hit your body, each droplet like shrapnel on your skin.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked through the door.

“Never been better, Charles.”

You stared at a spiderweb that had appeared since your last visit until the water all too soon ran cold. A fluffy towel swamped your body and you relished the softness on your bruises, grateful you had stolen it from your bathroom. When you stepped out of the bathroom you found Charles still sat on the bed but now there were two beers condensating on the wobbly side table.

“Help yourself then,” you murmured as you grabbed a fresh pair of clothes from your backpack. “Look and I will throttle you.”

Charles turned his back as you dropped the towel and pulled your panties up your legs. Bending over sent white hot pain flashing through your ribs and tears burned your eyes when you tried to reach behind your back for the bra strap. Without the adrenaline of the fight everything felt ten times worse.

You jumped when cold fingertips brushed your spine and swiped your hands aside. “Let me.”

“Rumour has it you only know how to take these off,” you said as he clipped your bra into place.

Charles turned you to face him and his eyes drifted down your body, lingering on the bruise blossoming on your ribs. “Since when have you cared about rumours?”

“I don’t, but your reputation precedes you. And, just so you know, I don’t have any friends for you to move on with after this ruse is up.”

“I don’t believe that,” he chuckled. “I think Alicia is your friend.”

“Alicia is too nice for her own good but she’s still on the payroll. I don’t think it’s friendship when it’s paid for.” You frowned as your stomach dropped as you realised what he had said and took a step back. “Plus, she is happily married so you’re out of luck there.”

Charles took a step to follow and caught your hand. “That’s not what I meant.”

You scoffed. “No?”

“No. You’re not as alone as you think you are. You have people who look out for you, and that’s friendship whether you believe it or not.” You tried not to let the words penetrate the internal walls you had built but they crumbled a little when he carefully embraced you. “You also don’t need to keep fighting, you have control of your future now.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you admitted as you looked up under your lashes to meet his eyes.

“Then let me show you.” His palm cradled your cheek and his thumb caressed your jaw as you waited to see what he would do. “You can say no whenever you want. The choice is yours.” His eyes traced the shape of your lips before returning higher and his lips parted as he started to dip his head. “You are in control.”

It could have been the sleep deprivation, the crash of hormones after the fight, or the fact that he was as good looking as any of the models you had seen. But, whatever the reason for your weak resolve, you didn’t say no.

You didn’t say no when his lips brushed softly over yours, tentatively. You didn’t say no when he grew bolder and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the curve of your lips.

“Stop,” you gasped when his hands began to glide down your body. They immediately froze and he pulled back with a deep breath. “I can’t tell if you are fucking with my head, Charles. You make me question everything I know about you.”

“I can only say ‘I’m sorry’ so many ways.”

“So you thought you would try fuck your apology onto me?”

“No,” he laughed. “That was purely self indulgent. Even when I couldn’t stand it I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“I told you, you’re in control,” he said with a nod.

You returned the nod and jutted your chin to the bed. “I’m a cuddler, don’t read too much into it when you wake up with me invading your personal space. Or, you can take the couch.”

He looked at the ratty couch and shook his head before a grin grew. “I like spooning.”

You pointedly looked at sweatpants and lifted a brow. “Little spoon, I bet.”

Charles smirked and dropped down on the bed, making himself comfortable on your pillow. “Nothing little about it, babe.”

You scrunched up your nose and reached under the pillow for the Prema shirt you slept in but before you could pull it on it was ripped out of your hands. “Hey!”

“You are not going to sleep next to me in my brother’s shirt.”

“There’s not exactly a wardrobe full of options here,” you said as you tried to grab it back.

Charles caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth movement before tossing it on your shoulder. “There you go.”

“I like that one.”

Charles gripped the fabric and tore the shirt in half as your eyes narrowed. “If we are going to fake this, we are doing it right. My girlfriend won’t be sleeping in another man’s shirt.”

“Fuck you, Leclerc,” you swore. It was better to be swathed in his clothing than half naked in your own, that was the only reason you pulled it on and breathed through your mouth so you didn’t have to inhale the rich cologne that clung to the soft fabric. You couldn’t be blamed for your actions if your hormones liked the smell too much because one thing was certain: when he lay there shirtless you had no control over your filthy thoughts.

You turned out the light and threw yourself down onto the bed with a pained groan that had nothing to do with your ribs. It was difficult but you managed to turn away from the man whose eyes drank in the sight of his shirt on you.

“Arthur said I wouldn’t recognise you in the ring,” he confessed in the darkness, “but I think that’s the first time I’ve really seen you.”

You didn’t know how to respond when your heart started to beat like a jack rabbit so you settled for a sedate, “Goodnight, Charles.”

The pallets groaned with his shifting as he rolled over and his arm curved low on your waist, missing your ribs. A soft kiss found a place on your heated cheek and he whispered his own, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered as you saw the shadow moving again. “Stop fiddling.”

Charles walked into the reflective field of the mirror after showering and he struggled to get the cufflinks into his Valentino suit. He walked around the table you were fixing your makeup at and held his arm out. “Can you please help?”

You fixed the shiny white gold pins into place before completing the finishing touches that completely concealed the bruises on your cheeks. The arnica had done its best to bring down the swelling but if anyone questions your puffy eyes you would just claim a rough night's sleep.

“Can you zip me up?” you asked as you stepped out of the robe and into the gown chosen for the event. Charles knuckles traced your spine as he dragged the zip carefully up while you held your hair out of the way and the delicate touch sent goosebumps chasing in its wake.

The Cannes Film Festival would be the first official outing with Charles and would publicise the relationship just in time for his home race. After the photos were snapped on the red carpet there would be no more privacy and every interaction would be watched by his eager fans. You knew what to expect - hate and hypercritical analysis were nothing new - but now they would come from run of the mill 20 year old females instead of millionaire middle-aged men.

A knock at the door interrupted the staring contest you found yourself in with Charles in the mirror and you stepped away to slip your heels on.

“The car is waiting downstairs,” Veronica said as she waltzed into your room.

“Then it can keep waiting,” you replied while you chose an understanded clutch that wouldn’t distract from the dress. “I need two front row tickets to the opera next Saturday.”

“But you have a-”

You held a hand up to interrupt her. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, just get me the tickets.”

Charles watched silently from the door, his phone and wallet in hand, and stepped aside to dodge the surly assistant that breezed from the room as quickly as she entered.

“We are attending the Palace dinner with Prince Albert next Saturday,” he said after Veronica had disappeared down the stairs.

It wouldn’t be a Monaco Grand Prix without a Palace dinner and you had agreed to be Charles’ plus one. “I know.”

“Then why-”

“I don’t have to explain my every move to you, okay?”

His lips pressed closed in a tight line and he nodded sullenly.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, feeling like crap for snapping at him. “I’m not used to having someone to explain my actions to.”

“I get it,” he said, but you got the feeling he really didn’t. He could talk to his family about what was happening in his life and they would listen, you didn’t have that luxury.

“We should go.”

The plush carpet absorbed your heel with each step and you held Charles’ arm a little tighter. Your father had been kind enough to remind you not to make an embarrassment of yourself and you really wished you had been able to take a separate vehicle. After escaping the last event with Charles they had made sure to keep you closer and stop that from happening again.

“Family photo,” your father said with a tight smile. “You too, Charles.”

“Yes, sir.” Charles stepped back into the frame and curled his arm around your waist, his palm warming your hip through your dress.

“Who are you wearing this evening?” the journalist beside the photographer asked, recording device at the ready.

“These divine pieces are from Bouchra Jarrar’s private collection,” your mother answered with a soft pat to your father’s suit jacket.

“And what is this knockout piece?”

You had far less enthusiasm when the attention turned to you. “Alexandre Vauthier, haute couture.”

“If only he knew what a knockout you really were,” Charles whispered in your ear, earning a real smile from you that the camera quickly snapped at.

“And you, Charles?”

“I’m not sure, she dressed me,” Charles said with a wink to you, charming everyone in the crowd including the reporter.

“He’s wearing new season Valentino but he was distracted by the Hypercar race when we picked it out.”

Charles’ laugh teased your skin and he shrugged innocently. “Forza Ferrari, baby.”

You eventually made it to the end of the red carpet and into the cinema for the special screening of some new drama film up for an award. The lights dimmed and the crowd fell silent with the opening credits but your entire focus was on the hand that slipped into yours.

“It’s dark in here,” you whispered. “You don’t need to pretend.”

“Who said I am pretending?”

The armrest was suddenly much closer as you found yourself gravitating to him and your cheek came to rest on his shoulder before the title even appeared.

“Pretending would probably be easier.”

“Probably, but it’s too late for me.”

You didn’t tell him but you had the exact same thought.

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 angst

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togrowoldinv · 3 months

Text

Memory

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You feel like you’ve met her before, but you just can’t remember when or how. It turns out there’s a lot you don’t remember

Note: Hey y’all. I have been swamped these last couple of weeks studying for and taking a part of the cpa exam, but I finally had a free moment to have some fun. I went and saw Argylle, so this is loosely inspired by that. Enjoy it!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

The room is silent aside from the clicks of a keyboard as Natasha tries to break through a firewall. She’s smart, but the person who created it is slightly smarter than her.

The redhead smirks when she is one step from breaking through, but her cheekiness doesn’t last. An alarm sounds and she’s met with at least ten agents swarming all around her.

“Oh hey, guess you guys found the party,” she says in her usual cool under pressure tone.

She uses the agents’ hesitation to begin attacking them to deal the first blows. She takes them down two at a time until there’s only one left. She knows who he is.

“Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Natasha asks.

“You know what I want,” he says.

“And you know what I want,” Nat replies.

The two of them keep their guns in ready position. Nat alerted for backup, but she knows most likely she’ll have to handle this on her own.

“Where is the woman?” The man asks. He shakes his gun at Nat. She sees a weakness in the way he’s holding it. He won’t last.

“If you give me the intel, I’ll give you her location,” Nat says.

“You’re lying!”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you the truth. They’re never really that different, right?”

“Drop your weapon,” he tries another tactic.

Natasha just smirks. She moves her left arm down and the man mistakenly thinks she’s giving in. The moment he shifts his aim Nat takes a shot at him. It’s an easy shot for her.

He goes down and Nat finishes gathering her data from the computer before she quickly gets out of the building. That backup she was waiting for finally arrives as she’s making her way outside.

“Thanks for the help,” she says sarcastically as Steve opens the door for her.

“Sorry,” he says. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. What were you even doing here?”

“Gathering intel,” Nat says simply. She shows him the flash drive and he just shakes his head. “The more I can find out the better I can help her, Steve. It’s an easy choice to make.”

“Nat, she’s so far gone,” he tries. “It might be worth stopping.”

“I’ll never give up on her. She’ll be herself again. I know it,” Natasha says. “Now, will you help me get this to Stark to decode?”

“Of course I’ll help you, Romanoff.”

She nods in thanks. For the rest of the drive, Natasha thinks about what her next step should be. There’s no easy fix to this situation. She needs to go where her mind works best.

Meanwhile, you are working on cleaning tables when the most beautiful woman walks in. You’ve seen her in here several times since you started working here.

She always sits at the table in the corner and orders coffee and a piece of chocolate pie. It’s always the same thing. You’ve never waited on her before, but somehow the stars align today and you’re covering that section.

You walk to her table and take a deep breath. She’s even more beautiful from this close up.

“Hey, how are you today?” You ask her.

“I’m okay,” she replies. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” you say. It’s your typical response when a customer asks you that question. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”

She orders her usual. You feel her eyes linger on you as you pour the coffee and bring her slice of pie to the table.

Something feels familiar about the way she smiles at you in thanks.

“Do I know you?” You ask her. She doesn’t reply, but you notice she looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just that I had some memory loss so I’m just not quite sure who I know at this point.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry,” she says. “I don’t think we know each other though, no.”

“You seem familiar,” you tell her.

“Well, I am an Avenger so maybe that’s it,” she says. “I’m Natasha.”

“Right. The superheroes. It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you say. “I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand for her to shake. When she does, you swear there’s still a lingering feeling that you know her. Maybe you’ve just seen her on television.

“I better get back to work,” you say.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Natasha says.

She stands from her chair and drops cash on the table. Walking towards the door, she stops short and turns back to look at you. You offer her a smile that she returns.

With that, she disappears into the city. The rest of the day goes by seemingly without any other excitement. You can’t stop thinking about your interaction with the woman, which is why you thought you were dreaming when she shows up at your door.

You blink hard to try and wake up, but the reality is that she’s truly here.

“Natasha?” You ask confusedly.

“I don’t have time to explain,” she says. “Can I come in?”

“I- what? Okay?”

She takes that as a yes. She walks inside and goes straight to the corner of the room where she picks up a piece of the floor to reveal a secret storage area.

Natasha fills her bag with the weapons that were stored under the floor.

“What is happening?” You ask her.

“Just trust me,” Nat says.

“I just met you today and you somehow know about this secret area of my house I didn’t even know about. And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies. “Come on. Get some shoes on. We have two minutes.”

“Two minutes before what?”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer before a loud bang comes from outside. A series of car doors close simultaneously.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but you have to trust me. These guys are after you and if we don’t bail in the next thirty seconds we’re dead. Got it?” Natasha says.

“What?” You ask. It seems to be the only word in your vocabulary right now.

She grabs your hand and pulls you through your house. Once you’re outside, you go through the fence to the neighbors yard.

“Here,” Nat says, pulling you to a motorcycle that’s waiting there.

“I am not riding on that,” you say.

“Then you’ll be dead within minutes. Come on, y/n,” Nat says. She puts the helmet on your head involuntarily.

You have no choice but to listen to her. Hopping onto the bike, you hold on tight to her middle as she drives through the streets. At some point, a van is tailing the two of you. Natasha turns down every alleyway and street she can to get you away from the tail.

“When I say jump, you’ve got to jump!” Nat says over the roar of the engine.

“What?”

You’re quickly approaching a road that you can see has no end. She drives full speed ahead before letting go of the handlebars.

“Jump!” Nat shouts.

You cling onto her as you both jump. You have no idea how far the drop is but somehow you land in water. Natasha pulls you to the surface quickly.

You get to shore and try to gather yourself some. You’re so confused about all of this.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Am I okay?” You ask her. “Seriously, you’re asking me that? I don’t know who you are or what’s happening. We just got chased by a van through town and jumped off a motorcycle into a fucking lake. Do you think I’m okay?”

The woman has the audacity to smile at your words.

“I’m sorry, do you think this is funny?” You ask her, feeling fury seethe inside you.

“No,” Natasha says too quickly. “No, it’s just- nevermind. We have to get to the Avenger’s compound.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you tell her matter of factly.

“Y/n-“

“Don’t!” You interrupt her. “Just leave me alone.”

Nat raises her hands in surrender and watches as you walk away. She lets you get ten steps ahead before she follows after you.

“I told you to let me be.”

“You’re up there all alone. I just happen to be walking in the same direction,” Natasha reasons. “Although, the compound is the other way.”

Despite the fact that you were just doing insanely dangerous tasks with her, you feel a certain safety in her presence.

“Why should I go with you?” You pose a question.

You notice her hesitation in answering. Like she wants to tell you something but she just can’t.

“If you just come with me, I’ll explain everything there. Okay? Please give me a chance,” Nat says. “I won’t be responsible for them finding you and finishing the job.”

“What job? I’m just a waitress. Who could I possibly have wronged?”

“I promise I’ll explain later,” Nat says. “Please follow me.”

You relent and follow her. There’s no reason for you to trust her but somehow you do. It doesn’t take long to get to the compound once Nat hot wires a car.

“Y/n?” A girl asks when you are inside. You look at her despondently and she frowns. Natasha gives he’s her a look.

You follow Natasha to what seems to be a laboratory. There’s a large screen on the wall.

“Ah welcome,” a man says. You recognize him as Iron Man. “You’re just in time.”

“For?” You ask.

“The truth,” another man answers. You’re pretty sure he’s Captain America.

Before you can speak again, photos of you litter the screen. There are some of just you and some of you and the other Avengers.

“What the hell?” You wonder aloud.

“Y/n, we wanted you to remember on your own but it’s taking too long,” Tony Stark explains. “Natasha tried to jog your memory just by being in your presence, but that didn’t work.”

“So I do know you?” You ask the woman.

“You know all of us, y/n. You’re an Avenger.”

“But I’m- no. I’m a waitress,” you say. Your head feels like it’s spinning.

“That’s what they made you think, but you’re not. You’re a special agent,” Steve says. “And one of the best.”

“I don’t believe you. This is all a joke, right?”

“It’s not a joke, y/n. Why do you think we knew those people were after you? Or that I knew about the floor in your house?” Natasha asks.

“That’s easy. You’ve been spying on me.”

“No,” she says simply.

“Then how?” No response. “This is just insane. I’m leaving.”

You start to walk away. You hear Natasha’s footsteps behind you.

“Natasha,” a warning voice comes from Tony. “Don’t.”

“You know what, you go ahead. Take a car of ours, y/n,” she says.

She holds up a pair of keys. You reach for them, but instead of giving them to you she throws a punch your way.

You surprisingly dodge it with ease. Natasha smirks at the way you look at your arms in confusion.

“How did I do that?”

“Come on, throw one,” she taunts you.

You do your best to punch her, but of course she dodges it. You spar back and forth until you’ve both had enough.

“Great, now that that’s over. Do you believe us?” Tony asks.

“I’m not sure,” you say. “How could I not know I’m an agent?”

“Brainwashing,” Natasha answers. “Very effective brainwashing.”

“But why?”

“Because you were going to uncover a huge invasion of Hydra in the government,” Steve explains. “We still can’t find the data that you had before they took it from you and erased all of your memories.”

“So the memory loss, that was a real feeling I was having?”

“It was,” Nat says. “The reason why wasn’t a car accident as they told you though. They captured you and essentially knocked you senseless.”

You rub your hands over your face as you try to take all of this in. Just a few hours ago you thought you knew who you were, but they’re telling you something completely different.

“We wanted you to remember on your own, so it might not be so overwhelming,” Nat says.

“So, we’re all what? Coworkers? Friends? I don’t remember any of you, or anything you’re describing,” you say.

“We’re friends,” Steve says. “You’re friends with all of us and with Nat-“

“Steve,” Nat interrupts. “She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”

“I don’t need to hear what?”

There are shouts down the hallway that interrupt your conversation. Tony suits up and Steve grabs his shield.

“Get her to safety,” he tells Nat.

She grabs your hand and takes you down the hallway to a door and down a ton of stairs. Nat locks a door behind her once you’ve reached the lowest level.

“They’ll handle them,” Nat says. “But the further you are from the fight the better.”

“What was Steve going to say?”

“Hm?”

“About you and me,” you prompt her.

Natasha tears her eyes from yours much the same way she did when you questioned if you knew her earlier.

“Natasha, please just tell me. Clearly, everything I thought I knew was a lie. What’s one more thing?”

“Okay,” she agrees. “We were- you and I were together.”

“Together?”

She nods.

“Define together. Like dating?”

“Kind of yeah,” she says. You look at her for more details. The silence prompts her to continue. “We were married. We are technically married.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you were ready to learn that,” Nat says.

“So that’s why you knew your way around my place?”

“Our place,” she says. “But they moved all of my stuff out before you went back there.”

“Natasha, I don’t- I can’t remember anything,” you say.

“I know,” Nat says sadly. “We kept our distance once we realized what they did to you, but we’ve never stopped making sure you were safe.”

You hear the sound of the fight getting closer. Natasha reaches for your hand. She places a loaded gun in your palm.

“I want to remember.”

“You will,” Nat says. “But right now, you’ve got to fight.”

To be continued…

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