#And ofc covered in blood is always a vibe

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

this or that - whump tropes (42)

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 6

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You go full Charlie Kelly and start to put all the pieces together. Stiles knows more than he lets on, but for some reason you trust him anyway. 

A/N: check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Taglist: @eaterof-concrete, @m30wk1ttycat

You played and replayed the video at least a hundred times, over and over again, examining every poorly shot, grainy frame until your eyes burned. You were frantic—a rabbit, picking her den apart, ripping her fur out, searching for all the minute flaws and misplaced straw; a girl, chewing her cheek bloody, tearing at her tights, desperately looking for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t completely shatter her fragile grasp on reality. 

It would be one thing if it was just the video. You could easily rationalize the video away; you’d seen enough fan-made edits of Buffy and Twilight to know that amateur editors were hardly amateurs anymore—but it wasn’t just the video. It was the video, and the gutted video clerk, and the mangled bus driver, and the severed woman with wolf fibers found her butchered corpse—all interconnected by one very furry, clawed, fanged… thing. 

Rolling onto your back, you scrubbed at your eyes, fingers cruel and violent in their attempt to scour away images of blood, and death, and monsters. There had to be an explanation. A rational explanation. Your gaze reflexively drifted towards the charm bundle on your windowsill, propped up against a few of your favorite novels.

The books were old, spines creased and splitting at the corners from little fingers and a lot of love. They were your mom’s before they were yours; you read them together under the covers whenever it rained. For a long time, you kept them hidden away under your bed with all the other things that might crumble your brittle will, but the yellowing pages steeped in memories didn’t seem so haunting anymore. You were already halfway through the stack, consuming the faded ink like a fiend in the night. It was odd; there wasn’t much that had changed since now and then. Really, only one thing. It made sense, you supposed after some thought. Your childhood favorites: Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot novels, they were exactly the kind of thing a sheriff’s son would appreciate.

The largest book in the pile was your complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. You chewed on your lip, eyes tracing the elegant swoops and swirls illuminated on the spine. Words curled along your brainstem in time with the loops, breaking through the buzzing in your mind with quiet British flourish: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Your nose scrunched, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Surely, you hadn’t eliminated all logical explanations yet. Surely. 

The metallic embellishments glinted at you, taunting you with their unmistakable presence and insistent reminder of your evening’s unavoidable ending. There was only one place to go for the improbable, after all; you just had to get past your pride and everything you believed to be true. 

Before you could finish putting on your shoes, your dad found his way into your room. He lingered on the border of the black cherry floor. His stance was awkward, unsure of his footing, and you froze with your shoelace in hand. After a moment of stilted silence, he cleared his throat and loosened his tie from its chafing Windsor knot, “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out later than usual.”

Nodding, you tied your laces into neat bows and pulled the wrinkles in your tights straight, “Parent Teacher Conferences, right?”

“Mhm,” he paused and attempted a smile. The edges were stiff, as if his mouth had forgotten the movement, at least when directed at you, “Should I be worried?”

It was his attempt at a joke; you knew that. You still felt a flutter of anxiety. Despite Stiles’s reassurances, you weren't so cavalier about breaking the rules. “All A’s,” you finally said, quietly to your feet. 

Your dad gave you a real smile; smaller than his previous attempt at playfulness, but this one was your favorite. He was proud. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at you with anything other than grief and unease. “That’s my girl.” He rapped his knuckles against your door frame and said, “There’s takeout money on the table. Don’t stay out too long; there’s a—”

“Curfew, I know.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and fiddled with the strap, “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t ask you where you were going. He never did. You weren't sure what that said about your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about it any longer than you had to. There were far more pressing things to dwell on.

Maggie was in her kitchen when you opened the door to her house. It was cozy, small; she'd inherited it from her mother when she passed years ago. There were still signs of her 70s nostalgia all over every room. The shag carpet was horrendous, but you kind of liked the color. The muted green almost looked like a bed of moss, like something out of a fairytale.  You had your own key; you’d had one since you were old enough to be a latchkey kid—even though you were never really on your own for long. There was always someone around to help you with your homework, bake you brownies without getting shell in the batter, read you stories about far away places and imaginary worlds. You’d had a wonderful childhood until it ended; some people weren’t that lucky. You knew that you were fortunate to have twelve years of Rockwellian bliss; it was more than a lot of people got. Knowing, however, still didn’t make the after any easier. 

“Want a scone?” Maggie’s head was buried in the oven, steam curling around her shoulders. She emerged with a tray of browned lumps in pink oven-mitted hands, “They're slightly burnt, but it’s not my fault. My timer betrayed me.”

You didn’t reply. You chewed on your lip and studied the plants hanging from the ceiling. The Angelica was in full bloom, little clusters of white fuzzy fireworks. The roots were supposed to ward off evil. You would’ve scoffed at the thought a week ago. Now, there was a lingering ‘what if’ you couldn’t shake. 

You sighed quietly, the exhaustion rattling through your chest, and trailed your gaze to the next plant. Skullcaps were your favorite, not because they were supposed to induce visions, obviously; you liked the blossoms. The fluted periwinkle petals certainly looked magical. You picked a flower from the lowest stem and rolled it between your fingers, “You really believe in this shit, right?” You looked up from your hands and studied Maggie’s face carefully, “It’s not all a scam?”

The anticipated gasp carried through the kitchen, followed by the clang of a plonked baking sheet, “I resent the very implication.”

“I’m serious.” You stared at Maggie’s back, watching for any tell-tale signs of tension or rigidity, “Do you really believe that witches are real and wolfsbane can kill werewolves?”

“I will not be abused in my own home,” there was a lilt in Maggie’s voice, a flippancy that usually made your lips twitch into a smile, but Maggie's hand trembled and sent the scone on the edge of her spatula to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees and scooped the crumbling pieces into a pile with desperate hands, oddly frantic for something as silly as a dropped pastry. 

You squatted next to her and rested your hands over Maggie’s until they stilled. “Mags,” you were quiet, gentle in your sweeping, but Maggie didn’t seem soothed by the clean floor. 

Maggie’s chin lifted, but her eyes zeroed in on the tip of your nose instead of your eyes. “Babe.”

You gripped your knees, clinging to the caps with ragged nails and flexed knuckles, like your bones were the only solid thing left in the room. “Can you be serious for once in your life, please.” Your tongue went heavy, adhering to the floor of your mouth, effectively sealing everything else you couldn’t bring yourself to say: Please, I think I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how much longer I can white-knuckle it.  

Maggie turned towards the counter carelessly, and her pinky brushed against the cookie sheet. She let out a sharp hiss through her teeth and shook her hand in the air. “Why does it matter?” Her words were muffled through the blistering finger in her mouth, “People buy what they want to buy.”

Your empathy was thinning and so was your patience. Your teeth gnashed, and you winced when your tongue got in the way. “I don’t give a shit about your delusional customers. You know what I mean.”

“See, ‘delusional,’” Maggie stuffed a scone into her mouth even though it was still steaming. Her eyes watered as she struggled to swallow the wad of blueberry and oatmeal lodged against the roof of her mouth. “Why are we even talking about this?” she said thickly, throat clogged with congealed crumbs and something skittish in her eyes. She bent over the sink and turned the water to cold; you weren't entirely sure if she was soothing the burns on her tongue or simply avoiding eye contact.

“There’s something happening here,” your voice trembled, much to your disdain, and you were further horrified by the stinging in your tear ducts, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Maggie’s head whipped towards you, wetting her hair and splattering her lenses with water droplets that dripped onto her nose, “You don’t have to do anything. That’s not your job.” She clutched your shoulders with desperate fingers, digging into your scapulae until it hurt, “Your job is to go to school, get good grades, and live happily ever after.”

You shook off her hands and wiped your nose against your shoulder, “Why won’t you just give me a straight answer?” 

“Well, I am bi–”

“Maggie,” you struggled for words until there was only one left on your tongue, “please.”

A blank expression fell over her face, and then Maggie seemed to sink through the floor even though she was still standing. “Did you read the book?”

You could barely hear her. Your nose shriveled towards your brows, “What book?”

Her eyes shined with something; you couldn’t quite define it. There was a glimmer of remorse, but you couldn’t make out the rest. “‘Beacon Hills’ Bloodlines’.”

For a moment, you were too confused to be frustrated, “Not really.”

Confusion became bewilderment when Maggie left the kitchen without a word. She returned with a thick book; though, book wasn’t quite accurate. It was really a stack of pulp parchment barely held together with a piece of threaded twine. It looked older than the Bloodline’s journal; you could see a few pages sticking out from the others, and the spine was in desperate need of re-stitching. You reluctantly took the pages from Maggie’s hands after she shook it in your face a couple times. 

Maggie was quiet when she finally spoke, “Read the journal.” She nodded towards the new book, “That too.”

You frowned at the cover and held it out in front of you like it was contaminated. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just tell me.”

Maggie looked at you, and the most peculiar sensation rolled down your spine. Maggie's eyes were so present, like a shotgun blast, like a meteor shower. Her voice wasn’t even close to loud, but it was just as piercing as her stare, “I made a promise; I have to keep at least part of it.”

Your forehead creased, “Wha...that’s even weirder. Are you fuckin’ Gandalf? Just say it.” 

“Trust me,” Maggie’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you almost melted with relief, “there are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes and crammed the bound parchment into your bag, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

A cool hand cupped your cheek before you could leave. You grudgingly met Maggie’s gaze, adjusting your grip on the strap of your bag.  

Maggie held onto your shoulders, a breath away from shaking you. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

You grimaced, “I–” A flash in Maggie’s eyes dried all the words on your tongue.

“Promise.”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

Maggie finally let you leave, and your feet felt heavier than they did when you walked into Maggie’s apartment. Your bag was heavier, so perhaps it wasn’t all an illusion. The guilt, however, was certainly playing a part in your sagging shoulders. You chewed on a thumbnail and slipped into the comfort of denial. It didn’t count as a broken promise if you didn’t really know what you were promising.

Your dad was still gone when you got home, and you were relieved. Solitude was your only comfort with all this dread chilling your blood. You weren't good with the unpredictable, not anymore. You tried to study it, the way you did with dead languages and theoretical physics, but the methodology wasn't clear. You just wished, for once, you were as scary as people believed. 

There was one thing you could do—or rather two. One was on your desk, and the other was at the bottom of your bag. 

You started with the journal, and your hair quickly became a nuisance. Every time you bowed your head to get a better look at the messy scrawl, wispy strands obscured your vision. You tied your hair back and nibbled on your lip, struggling to determine if a smudged loop was an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ They didn’t have computers in the 1800s, you knew that, but it wouldn’t have killed Maggie’s great-great-great-grandmother to quill with a little less ink. Neat cursive was hardly as taxing as cholera. 

The pain at the base of your skull was unbearable by the time you made it through half of the entries. Your impatience was rapidly fraying, with yourself and with the lack of insight. Maybe, this was all an elaborate stall—or maybe Maggie really didn’t know anything. 

You flopped back against your pillows and starfished your limbs across your bed until all your joints and muscles unkinked. “Fuck me.” Your eyes flicked down your legs, and you glowered at the journal. It was goading you, opened to the middle and sprawled across your thighs, staring at you and all your incompetence. 

Your thumbs dug a trench in your skull as you tried to rub the throbbing out of your temples.

One more page. You could read one more page. 

You flipped the page, careful with the crumbling corner. The parchment was cluttered with names and arrows; there were a few illustrations too, sketched portraits of the people memorialized on paper. It was inked chaos, but only one word stood out to you. In a large curling script, Hale was spread all over the complicated family tree. You gnawed on your lip and bent your head closer to the small description at the top of the page: The Hale pack founded Beacon Hills in 1856, saving the town from desolation with their wealth. The pack has several branches, extending across the state. They continue to be a prevalent force in their world. 

The bloodlines were difficult to follow with all the different branches and untimely deaths. As far as you could tell, the line was documented all the way to 2002. There were a few different sets of handwriting; the style changed every few decades or so, and you flipped to the end of the family line just to check for Maggie’s chicken scratch. You didn’t find her handwriting, but you did notice something familiar on the last line. Derek Hale. 

You knew, of course, that Derek would likely be included, but your breath hitched when your finger traced over the notation inscribed next to almost every single one of his family members’ names: Deceased: Arson. Laura Hale was still alive on the tree, and the thought of documenting her death—of giving her an end date —it stole all the air from your lungs. 

Your eyes burned, and you quickly flipped back to the start of the Hale bloodline. A few dozen county death records later, the burning in your corneas was due to the strain of one too many computer searches. Still painful, but you much preferred blue light sting to the threat of tears. You focused on it, on the ache; it was so much quieter than all the thoughts fighting you for their turn. They were so loud, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, what they were trying to tell you—what they wanted you to believe. 

Derek Hale couldn’t be a werewolf because that would mean werewolves were real, and if werewolves were real, how many other monsters were lurking in the dark? How many creatures from Maggie’s stories were waiting for someone to separate from the herd, biding their time until they could sink their teeth into human flesh?

There was only so much you could find online and in Maggie’s books. Certain secrets had yet to be written. 

It was disturbingly easy to find out where Stiles lived. The receptionist at the Sheriff’s station was all too happy to give you his address when you gave her your name. You finally stumbled upon the one perk of being an infamous, pathetic half-orphan: blind faith. 

His house was smaller than yours, and you were jealous. All the empty space just made the silence worse, you found. You could see a few spots where the paint was peeling when you got closer, and you smiled at the shoddy patch work. You wondered who tried to fix it. You hoped it was Stiles; you could see the paint in his hair, maybe smeared across his cheek from an ill-advised attempt to scratch his nose. It was adorable. 

You knocked on the door and clutched Maggie’s books tighter to your chest. You’d expected Stiles to answer the door, but he didn’t. You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you that someone else would be home until Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, but you felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The Sheriff looked just as surprised to see you; at least, he had an actual reason. 

“Oh.” You blinked and devolved into a monosyllabic moron, “Hi.” 

Obviously, you knew Stiles was Sheriff Stilinski’s son, but for some reason the idea of them occupying the same place at the same time was dumbfounding. YOur mind couldn’t make sense of it. There was the Sheriff in one box, with all your grief, all your pain, and then there was Stiles. You didn’t fully know what was in his box, but you knew it was good. 

“Hey, kid,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled through his confusion, “you okay? Did something—”

“I’mheretoseeStiles,” all your words were smooshed together in one big exhale. 

The Sheriff looked even more confused for a moment, and then he gave you a little conspiratorial grin. “He’s up in his room. Go ahead.” 

You nodded absently and followed him inside. You stopped thinking about the hefty pile of books in your arms when you noticed the slight limp in Sheriff Stilinski’s step. “Are you okay?” 

The Sheriff followed your gaze and waved his hand, “It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.” 

You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking for blood or something equally horrific. He had no reason to lie to you, but you’d gotten used to the worst case scenario. “You sure?”

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, “You sound like my son.”

You mouth ticked up slightly, “That’s not an answer.”

Sheriff Stilinski had a nice laugh, you thought. You grinned as his head shook with another rumbling chuckle. “Now you really sound like my son. I hope he hasn’t driven crazy too.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a little and smiled, “he’s alright.” Your voice dropped a little, like you were telling a secret, “More than, actually. He’s…good.”

The Sheriff looked surprised briefly, a spasm of disbelief, and then all the muscles in his face seemed to melt with fondness. “He is,” his voice was a bit gravelly when he spoke, like it got lodged halfway up his throat. He loved his son; it was obvious. You wondered if your dad ever looked like that when talked about you. You wondered if he even talked about you at all. 

“Not a lot of people are,” you said quietly, looking down at your sneakers. The white wasn’t even white anymore. They were graying from years of stepping on your own feet, kicking car doors closed, tripping over asphalt. You weren't the kind of girl who could keep shoes clean; that was one thing about you that hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it felt like everything else had, and none of it was for the better. 

Sheriff Stilinski waited until you looked up, and then he smiled at you, almost as fondly as before. “You are.”

You were overwhelmed with feeling, so close to an emotion you couldn’t name, but you knew you’d felt it before. Once upon a time, when parents were parents, and children were children. 

The Sheriff rested his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. You were tipping into tearful, and you’d never been so grateful to hear Stiles’s voice. 

“Dad, who’s—” Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the two of you. His jaw dangled, and it didn’t snap shut until his dad snorted. Stiles’s eye twitched, and you could see the reboot loading behind his eyes. You wholly understood the sentiment.

His brain regained function, and apparently all he could come up with was, “Hey.”

You grinned to yourself, a small secret smile at his predicament, and your hand cocked in a little wave, “Hey.”

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, “I’ll—I’m going to get something to eat.” Neither of you looked at him; you were too busy playing a strange staring contest with equally stupid looks on your faces.  

Stiles recovered from his stupor once you were alone. His face settled into something bitter, stony at all the edges, irritation tucked into the creases. It was hardly the face you expected to see when you finally paid him a surprise visit. 

Your brow curved, and you tried not to shrink in on yourself. “You look pissed.”

Stiles snorted and drummed his fingers against the railing, “Yeah, well, you’re in a perpetual state of pissiness, so we’ve all got problems.” You must have crumpled this time, at least a little bit, because his scowl thawed and his hands fell limply by his sides. “Sorry. That’s not—displaced aggression, it’s my sweet spot.”

You shrugged and smiled slightly, a little stiff, a lot amused, “You’re not exactly wrong.”

“Still.” 

You played another game of eye-contact chicken, and Stiles scratched the back of his rapidly flushing neck. Your hair, still damp from the light drizzle, fell in front of your face as you tilted your head towards the stairs, “So, you gonna invite me up, or…”

He nodded a little too quickly and definitely too fervently, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”

“Pissed?” you smirked and adjusted your grip on your books, trekking up the stairs. Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, but he was smiling. He had a nice smile; it was big, loose—unrestrained in a way a lot of people were afraid to be. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return.

Stiles let out a profound sigh and shook his head, “It’s all Scott’s fault.” You shot him a dubious look as he pushed his bedroom door open for you. He shrugged, “If I only tell it with carefully selected parts of the story, it’s all his fault.”

Your mouth twitched. Your smile was small, but it peeled back a good deal of the person you thought you should be. So much so, there was a little you peeking underneath. “We can pretend it is. Just for today.”

Stiles’s throat bobbed with his swallow, and when he smiled back at you, slowly, fleetingly, but ever-so sweetly, you finally realized you were awkwardly standing in the middle of his room. Like an idiot. 

His room was exactly what you expected, and that was…you didn’t realize that you knew him well enough to expect plaid bedding and posters of cringey emo bands that were heavily featured on most of your playlists. 

His desk was cluttered with various books and papers, stacked with no apparent rhyme or reason. You recognized the bestiary he bought from Curio Killed the Cat; the burgundy and gold binding was striking against all his monochrome textbooks. There were a few papers poking out from the aged pages, printouts of something furry and familiar. Before you could get a better look, Stiles bustled past you, doing a quick but rather poor job of hiding his dirty laundry under his bed and behind his closet door. 

Stiles was slightly out of breath when he finished, dropping onto the foot of his bed, “So…you stalkin’ me now?” 

You rested your hip against his desk and hummed, “Seemed only fair.” 

“Well,” his face split into a bright, infuriating grin, “I am flattered.”

“Shut up.” His grin widened, and you rolled your eyes, glaring at your bowed reflection in a chrome lamp on the edge of his desk. It was in grave need of a good dusting, along with most of the room. “You’re literally my only option.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I’m the one.” Stiles’s smirk was audible, and you sputtered. 

Your ears were unnaturally hot, and so was the back of your neck. You meant to groan, wanted him to know just how unamusing you found him, but your throat failed you. Your complaint came out airy, huffy, and it trembled against your soft palate. Truthfully, it sounded awfully similar to a whine; you scowled at the sound and squeezed your books tighter to your chest, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ve reached my maximum capacity for bullshit.” 

Long fingers circled around your wrist before you could go too far. They were blistering against your cool skin, but a shiver shuddered through your arm all the way to your skull. 

“Don’t go,” Stiles hummed softly, close enough to warm the shell of your ear. “I owe you one, remember?” 

You braved a look at him through your lashes, and he was smiling at you again; this one was nervous. He had forgotten, it seemed, to let go of your wrist until now. Stiles sat back down on his bed, and you absently brushed your fingers over the lingering sensation of his fingertips. 

“Right,” you looked around the room and chewed on your bottom lip, “so…what was that whole thing with Derek Hale?”

Stiles paused. You could feel him watching you, studying you like one of his puzzles. “He needed a ride.”

You set your books on his desk, and Stiles nodded towards the chair in front of him. You hesitated before sitting down, feeling a bit like you were giving up the battlefield high ground, “You’re like…friends, then?”

“Absolutely not.” If the emphatic denial wasn’t enough to convince you, the violent shake of his head was telling enough. “Kind of wish he was dead, actually. It would solve so many problems.”

“So you don’t actually know him that well,” you murmured, sinking into the chair with all your hopes and plans. 

Stiles’s neck craned as he studied your face, “Why?” You just looked at him, keeping your face impassive, and his eyes went a little buggy. “I know he looks dreamy, but that would be nothing but a nightmare for everyone involved. Trust me.”

Your face twisted, lips curling around the unsavory taste in your mouth. “I don’t—what was wrong with him yesterday?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but skepticism did look a lot like concern. “Stomach bug.”

You rolled your eyes. It would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, but you didn’t feel much like laughing now. You’d been a tick away from the edge ever since you realized that Lydia had been this close to being butchered by that thing. 

Your fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining, “I’m not an idiot, okay. I know there’s something weird going on.” You looked up from your lap with sharp eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he’d see the desperation underneath, “And I know you know something about it.”

Stiles swallowed hard and twisted his fingers together, “I’m actually known for knowing nothing about anything. Ever.” 

He flinched when you stood up abruptly. The chair rolled back into his desk and sent a few pencils to the floor. You glared at them, like they did it on purpose just to spite you, and your glower drifted towards the glint of citrine and garnet on the corner of his desk. “This.” You picked up the bestiary and tried to shake it in front of his face, but it was too heavy to do your frustration justice, “Why did you buy this?”

His eyes, miraculously, grew rounder, “I told you. D—”

“N’ D, I know, but I looked into it. This is real; it’s transcribed from a real Ancient Greek text.”

“...I like authenticity.” Stiles shrugged towards his fidgeting hands, “I take my craft seriously.”

Scoffing, you dropped the book on top of his bed, “So you’re saying you believe the whole mountain lion theory?” 

“Well, obviously no—”

“Then what do you believe?” Your chest seethed with quick shallow breaths as you paced from one side of his room to the other, “Because I was looking through this genealogy line, and the Hales have been here before Beacon Hills was even Beacon Hills, and there’s a pattern of—hold on.” 

You snatched Maggie’s journal off of his desk and flipped it open to the Hale family tree, bookmarked with the thick stack of county death reports you’d printed out. “Look, there’s a series of premature, violent deaths in their line directly after a series of animal attacks on the town, and then all of it just stopped a few generations before Derek’s mom became the head of the pa—”

You didn’t know when Stiles stood up, but he was in front of you now, stopping you in your tracks. He brushed his fingers through his short crop of hair and shook his head, “Hold on, okay. Take a breath—”

You didn’t hear him, not really. Truthfully, you didn’t even notice that he’d started talking. You shoved the pages closer to his face, and all your words rushed past your lips in one carved out breath, “And then it all started again after Laura Hale was killed, and she was found with wolf fibers on her body—”

Stiles’s brows flew towards his hairline, “How do you kno—”

“She became the head of the family after Talia died, right?” Your hair was as wild as your eyes after a series of urgent tugging, and you prayed to all the mythical gods in every game you’d ever played that you sounded saner than you looked. They might actually exist, after all. Who's to say that Selûne didn't exist in a world where werewolves did? “‘Cause she’s the oldest living, fully conscious relative, and then immediately after she's killed, the animal attacks start up again, like she was keeping something in-check.”

“Slow down.” Stiles gripped your shoulders. You were closer than either of you realized until you looked up and your noses were almost touching. He swallowed thickly and let go of you after a moment, taking a step back, “A couple of days ago you thought this was all bullshit.”

You chewed on your lip and your indecision, looking for something in his face. You didn’t know what, but you were pretty sure you found it when his mouth furrowed into a concerned frown. It was for you, you realized, not because of you. That was…a rarity in your life as of late. You didn’t hate it. 

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket and opened the video from Lydia’s phone. “A couple of days ago I hadn't seen this,” you mumbled, shoving the phone into his hand.

Stiles looked at you for a moment longer and then pressed play. His face was unreadable, save for the small flinch when the beast shattered the store window, and you hated it. “Where did you get this?” Stiles finally said quietly. His voice was low and infected with something dire. 

You rifled through your papers, something to keep your hands busy and your eyes off of the dark look on Stiles’s face, “Someone sent it to Lydia—it was a blocked number, so don’t ask who.”

“Did she—”

“I deleted it before she could.” 

Neither of you needed to say it; you both knew Lydia was clinging to sanity by the skin of her perfect teeth. She couldn’t see the proof that the monster under her bed was real. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“Good.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, looking so much older than sixteen, and he flickered his gaze to your face, “You can’t show this to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Besides Scott,” you retorted dryly.

Stiles almost smiled. There was a ghost of one hiding in the corners of his mouth, but it faded before it could materialize. “Believe me, he really doesn’t need any more proof. Delete it.” 

He sighed at your scowl and tried again, “Please delete it.”

You shook your head and grabbed your phone from his hands, “Not until you tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stiles held up his hands and took a careful step towards you, “Really. I know as much as you do.”

You stared at him. You weren't sure if you were a good judge of character. You’d like to think you were, but it wasn’t like you spent a lot of time around other people. Even before you got trapped in your head, you really only had one friend, and you used to think you’d be friends with her for the rest of your lives. Maybe longer. 

You’d been wrong before. You didn’t want to be wrong again.

Stiles reached for your hand, and you let him lace your fingers together. “I know how you feel. It sucks, and it’s kind of exciting, but mostly freakin’ terrifying—and all you need to know is that it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Your chin jerked in a rigid little nod. You softened slightly when he squeezed your hand. He wasn’t telling you everything; you were almost 100% certain of that, but you were also pretty sure he wasn’t lying. That was enough for you. For now. 

“The file room,” you said quietly.

Stiles’s lips drew together into a little pucker, “What?”

“The evidence room with all the files,” you looked up at him, and the ember of hope was stoked in your eyes, “there’s probably more there.”

He bit down on his cheek, “I don’t know—”

You folded her arms over her chest, chin lifting in defiance, “You promised.”

Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his head. His smile was a little affectionate thing. He sighed and shook his head, “I promised.”

“Well, alright then.” Your shoulders relaxed, and you sat back down in his desk chair, “Middle of the night break-in, it’s a date.”

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 6

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 6,247 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dream sex, Masturbation, D/s situations, Knife play, Blood sharing Summary: Eric and Cam return to Melanie's, and on the way back, something changes between them.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

She knows she’s dreaming, because Eric is beneath her, and since she’s known him he’s always been towering over her, covering her, leaning into her space.

Her knees are spread around his waist and sinking into the fluffy comforter they’re on top of, his hands high on her thighs as he helps her bounce and grind on his cock. She feels the ghost of him inside her, knows pleasure in this dream, but it’s nothing like the real thing, doesn’t compare to even the real life press of his palm against her lower back. 

“I need more. So close, so close,” she chants, whimpering while his broad hands slide up to her breasts to squeeze them roughly, to close around her throat and make her face heat with the pressure. 

“I’m right here,” dream-Eric comforts, brushing his thumbs over her bottom lip. “Daddy’s right here, just give in. Please just give in, baby.” 

Her hairline prickles with sweat in this dream, the room warm and almost stifling around them as she works to bring herself off using his strong, gorgeous body. She drops a hand to her clit, rubs furiously until she’s coming and squeezing hard around his cock, crying out with the blissful feeling of release, of his hands, now on her hips so tight they must bruise.

She collapses on top of him, catching her breath against his chest, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back, over the sore spots on her skin. He praises her, perfect, Camila, good girl, makes her drift so far into another world she can’t remember anything but the sound of his voice in her ear.

She wakes up with no marks on her body, but one sticky hand between her thighs. 

Cam receives a text the next night - I’m hiring a new bartender. Will you come by and help me vet him? Pam will pick you up.

Eric is looking unfairly handsome when she arrives, especially after that goddamn dream of hers. He’s got a low cut tank on, baring his chest and throat, with a leather jacket thrown over the top—she almost feels underdressed in her turtleneck and jeans, but it’s still early evening and the club is closed, so she doesn’t think it makes a difference to anyone but her. 

“Camila, welcome,” Eric says, standing and walking toward her. He takes her handbag and shows her to the table where the prospective employee, Darren, is seated. The man stands when she approaches, and he’s good-looking too, with dark hair and blue eyes, a killer smile he unleashes the moment she takes his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Darren,” he greets, and Eric hands Cam’s bag to Pam and pulls out a chair for her. She smiles back and introduces herself, then sits down and waits for Eric to push her chair back in. Darren sits too, drums his fingers on the table between them. “I’m, uh, 29, used to bartend at The Regal before the manager ‘went in a different direction’—girls in low cut tops,” he explains. “I’ve been doing it for about five years, and I think I’d fit in well here. I’m definitely pro-vamp, you know, and I’ve hung out here with my friends a few times. Love the vibes,” he says, looking to Eric, who appears bored by the conversation.

Cam listens in to the things he’s not saying, like that he actually got fired for hooking up with the manager’s girlfriend, one of the aforementioned girls in low cut tops. She doesn’t think that’s a deal breaker for Eric, gives him a gentle smile. 

“Well that’s great to hear. Fangtasia gets all kinds, so having someone charismatic and open minded at the front of the house is important to us. It makes all of our guests feel at ease.” She lets a bit of flirtatiousness seep into her tone, a test, and he grins. 

“Well I’m all about making everyone feel at ease. They come here to have a good time, you know?” She nods, probes his mind again—just some low grade horny stuff, typical human thoughts, and he’s thirsty. She stands from the table and crosses over to the bar, grabbing a pitcher of water and a glass, then fills it and takes it back to him. When she sets it down, he thanks her, lets his fingers brush hers as he lifts the glass. “Do you come here to have a good time? Or are you strictly business?” 

“That’s not exactly relevant,” Eric speaks for the first time, leaning forward in his seat. Cam instinctively moves her chair a little closer and sits down beside him, clears her throat. 

“How are you with cash?” she asks Darren, whose smile has dimmed a little at Eric’s comment. He takes a sip of water and nods. 

“All good, I have a business degree and I’m great at math, so I always balance. And I tend to make pretty good tips.” 

She doesn’t doubt that, with his toned arms and charming smile; they talk a bit longer, and his thoughts corroborate what he says, no red flags or reason for concern she can pick up on. 

After the makeshift interview, they all rise and Cam shakes his hand, tells him they’ll be in touch. Though Pam already has his contact information and resume, he jots down his phone number on a napkin and hands it to her personally, “in case you have any more questions for me.” 

Eric doesn’t shake his hand, but he does pull the napkin from her grasp and crumple it up into a ball when he’s gone. 

“Hey,” she says lightly, following his long strides as he walks toward the trash can behind the bar and sinks a basket. “What if I had more questions for him?” 

“That wasn’t an offer for another interview, and you know it,” he replies, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her with an expressionless look on his face. “He wants to sleep with you.” 

“He wants to sleep with pretty much every girl he sees,” she counters, taking a grateful sip. “Including his previous manager’s girlfriend, which is the real reason he’s seeking work at your fine establishment.”

“I don’t know if he’s right for us.” Cam arches a brow, but Eric makes no effort to explain himself, so she’s left trying to figure it out on her own. 

“Because he cheated? I feel like that’s the least of your worries. He didn’t skim, he has no criminal background, he’s never gotten into an altercation with a customer. He’s not part of any anti-vampire groups,” she ticks off with her fingers. Pam’s initial research was very thorough, and Cam was actually kind of impressed. “He makes drinks and looks hot, which is really all you need.” 

She’s surprised when he moves closer, because even though that’s part of his usual MO, this time is different. His steps are slower, more purposeful; she’d think he was trying to intimidate her, if she didn’t know better. Or maybe turn her on? She can’t help that things like that cross the wires in her brain, how sometimes he’s even more attractive when he’s angry with someone or roughing them up.

“Is it all you need?” he asks when he’s in front of her, his voice sultry and low. “Or do you need more?” She exhales softly at his words, strangely similar to the words she’d uttered in her dream, and he brings a hand up to rest at the base of her throat, pressing his fingertips into her flesh. 

She does need more, wants more, from him—as good-looking as Darren was, she can’t imagine getting what she needs from anyone but Eric now. He is the man of her fantasies, the one who knows more than she does about her own desires, but she knows she can’t have all the things she wants, even if he’s willing to play along when they’re alone. 

And suddenly they aren’t alone, as Pam walks back into the room and clears her throat. 

Eric steps back, takes his hand off of her, and after a long moment of continued eye contact, she grabs her bag from behind the bar and heads for the door. 

“Just hire him,” Cam calls over her shoulder as she leaves.

She doesn’t hear from Eric for three days, until he shows up at her door just after the sun has set. He’s wearing a suit, all black, the first couple buttons of his shirt undone, and he both looks and smells absolutely mouthwatering. Whatever expensive cologne he’s got on is really working for him. 

“There’s another party at Melanie’s, and she was so impressed with you last time that she’s asked for your services again. Are you willing?” She nods, takes a step back to invite him into the apartment. 

“What does she want to know?” she asks, closing the door behind him.

“She and her pet have found another couple they’d like to play with,” he says, following her to her bedroom, where she tugs open the closet doors to inspect her options. “The dominant partner is human and Melanie would like you to get a read on him.” 

She nods, flipping past hanger after hanger because nothing feels quite right for a party like Melanie’s; she stops when Eric moves closer with a soft hum of interest and pulls out a clingy little black dress with short ruffled sleeves and hem. It’s not what she would have selected, a little too cute, and she turns to him and says so. 

“Won’t they expect me to look… I don’t know, sexy?” He holds the dress up to her, adjusts the neckline.

“They’ll expect you to look exactly the way your dominant wants you to look,” he says without making direct eye contact. “You’re free to choose, of course, but I think this one is perfect.”

When he does look at her face, he seems… Thoughtful, serious, almost smoldering as the silence between them evolves from a few seconds to a long, charged moment. They’re both breathing, but that’s all, eyes locked, bodies still, until she takes a step back and pulls her sweater over her head, tosses it onto the bed behind him. She’s not wearing a bra—though he can only see her from the back, now—but the dress doesn’t allow for one anyway, so that’s just one less step as far as she’s concerned.

Cam takes the hanger from his hands, slips the dress on, then unbuttons her pants and kicks them off, leaving them on the floor where they land. She tugs her hair out of the ponytail it’s been in all day, combs her fingers through it and then pulls it over one shoulder, exposing her back to him. 

“Will you zip me up?” she asks, and he runs a hand over her hair, wraps his fingers around her arm, and pulls up the zipper slowly, purposefully, until it’s secure. Fixing her hair, she thanks him with a soft smile, then grabs a pair of shoes and sits down on the bed to buckle them up.

The drive to Melanie’s is strangely tense, and she can’t stop herself from looking over at him, at his silhouette in the dark. She can’t see his eyes, but her gaze lingers over his jaw, his chin, his Adam's apple, his lips… She’s not sure if it’s because of their stolen moment at the bar the other day, or the dreams she’s been having about him, but just looking at him turns her on and she only manages to look away when he turns his head and catches her. 

His stoic expression cracks into a smile, but she doesn’t think too much into it, knows that her want just makes him enjoy their little game all the more.

This party of Melanie’s is a bit more private than the first, with seven couples in attendance, including Eric and Cam. A few of them she knows from the last get-together, a few she’s never met—including the reason she’s there, the couple Melanie wants her to check out before she commits to a date with them.

“That’s the one,” Eric says into her ear when they first walk into the room, and Cam spots the man he’s referring to right away. He looks to be in his fifties, wealthy, handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and a beautiful blonde vampire who appears to absolutely adore him. She is wearing a single strand of pearls and a wine-colored dress, hanging on his arm and his every word. 

“I can see why Melanie’s interested,” she whispers back, and Eric puts his arm around her waist, maneuvers her in front of him as if guiding her from behind. It feels nice to be taken care of by him, and it’s what their fellow partygoers expect, so she goes with the flow, let’s him lead her where he wants, to Melanie and her pet at the bar. 

“Eric, Camila. You two look positively gorgeous,” she says with a toothy smile, looking both of them up and down languidly. Her dark hair is in bountiful ringlets, and she wears a navy blue suit, which pairs nicely with her pet’s silky pink mini dress and silver heels. She wears her collar, of course, which tonight is connected to a matching silver leash that Melanie holds carefully between her fingers. 

“And the both of you are beautiful, as always,” Eric says, removing one of his hands from her body to take Melanie’s and kiss it. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re always welcome here,” she says, and her eyes rake over Cam again, to her surprise. Why she’s looking at Cam when she has Eric’s attention is beyond her. “It’s a shame you aren’t the type to share, but I do love seeing you nonetheless.” 

Cam knows better than to indicate her confusion, to look like she’s questioning him here, so she holds her tongue for the rest of their brief conversation. 

After they grab drinks, Eric walks her to an armchair on one side of the room and sits down, his legs spread just enough that she understands it’s an invitation perch on his lap. That’s new, and it makes her shiver, but she figures it’s just practical—they can’t talk here without whispering, and it won’t look as suspicious if she’s sitting in his lap and murmuring in his ear.

“What was that about?” she asks as she settles on his lap, his thigh firm and cool beneath her. She wraps her arms around him, one behind his shoulders and the other slung over his waist, and he keeps her close, rests his hand on the bare skin of her leg.

“With Melanie? Nothing.” 

“You promised you wouldn’t lie to me, Eric,” she reminds him with an edge to her voice, because she’ll call an Uber and leave this party if he insists on keeping information from her, she has no hesitations about that. 

He sighs, then moves her hair away from her neck and brushes his lips along her throat. 

“I told you they were looking for another couple to play with,” he whispers in her ear. “She asked me first—if you and I would be interested. Obviously, I declined.”

She hums her understanding—certainly not because of the way his mouth trails along her neck, his hand resting between her thighs. She wants to be mad at him, because he’s obviously trying to soften her up, distract her, and cover up their conversation all at once… and because it’s working. Then she thinks, screw it, because he’s never going to stop teasing her this way, playing his game, and in that case, she might as well enjoy it.

“That explains why she’s looking over here like she’s starved for a meal.” Eric nods against her skin, runs his hand up and down her leg, and Melanie’s attention is even more targeted, her stare unyielding. Cam’s not looking directly, but she can feel her eyes on them and wants to make sure there is no doubt about their commitment this time. “You should kiss me,” she says quietly, and when he pulls back to look at her she meets his gaze. 

Whatever he sees there, that’s all it takes for him to comply; his mouth is on hers in an instant, his hand moving from her legs to her face and cradling it as they kiss. She can feel her body warming up, and his, as he grows hard against her ass, and she brings a hand up to his shirt, rubs at the bare skin exposed by the undone buttons.

“Mmm, daddy.” Her voice is breathy when she says it, but he groans and breaks the kiss, looks at her with eyes so dark it’s hard to tell they’re blue. She licks her bottom lip, and he leans back in to kiss her again, rougher this time, his hand deliciously tight on her jaw. 

When they part, she assumes it’s because of something Eric hears, because he seems reluctant to stop kissing but does it anyway. He runs his thumb over her lips, then slides his hand between her thighs again, but doesn't bother straightening his rumpled collar—which she finds out of character, and which she enjoys all the more for it. 

A few minutes later, Melanie brings over her prospective partners and introduces them as Joel and Amanda before slipping away to tend to other guests. They curl up on the sofa beside Eric and Cam, talk a little about themselves, what they do for work, for pleasure, listen intently when Eric talks about the bar and what it’s like to be a sheriff, and Cam. He talks a lot about Cam, how they met, how smart and capable and beautiful she is, and she knows it’s for show but lets herself be warmed by his praise anyway. 

Melanie and her pet—who Cam now knows is called Catherine—join the conversation soon after, snuggling up to Amanda and flirting with Joel, making the both of them laugh happily. Eric sips his drink, offers Cam hers, and because she feels strange just sitting silently in his lap she cards a hand through his hair, toys with the open buttons of his shirt between her fingers. He relaxes into her touch almost immediately, tilts his head just slightly like he’s enjoying it and wants more, and she leans in to whisper in his ear. 

“All good so far. He’s genuine. And horny,” she adds, though it feels obvious. “He’s enjoying the thought of dominating two vampires, if that’s something Melanie’s up for, but overall he’s pretty mild. He isn’t even thinking about the blood.”

Eric doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t expect him to, just continues to rub his hand up and down her thigh. She figures she deserves that for teasing him too, and slips back into conversation easily, continues filtering Joel’s thoughts for anything untoward.

It’s early morning when they leave, and Cam needs Eric’s guidance—more because she feels a pleasant humming in her mind, her thoughts hazy from all of the kissing, the touching, all of Eric’s attention, than because they’d been drinking. The friendlier Melanie and Catherine became with Joel and Amanda, the more physically comfortable, and when they would pause the conversation to kiss or pet a little, Eric would keep them busy by making out with her slowly, drawing patterns against her skin with his fingertips. By the time they make it to the car, she’s aching with want, and she knows Eric can feel it, smell it, see it. 

She spends the first half of the ride squeezing her legs together, trying not to think of his breath on her neck, his teeth at her ear, and then he reaches his hand toward her across the console, palm up like he wants her to take it. 

She takes it, and he squeezes softly, eyes never leaving the road. 

“You may touch yourself,” he says, low, and though she immediately flushes with embarrassment, the reaction is short lived. “Come in your panties like a good girl. You were so good for me tonight,” he praises, his voice like honey. “You always are.”

“Thank you,” she says almost automatically, and she runs her hand over her own thigh, a ghost of his previous touch. Her skin feels like it’s on fire, and she moans softly, earning Eric’s gaze. 

“Camila,” he murmurs, and she closes her eyes, eager but nervous, so horny it hurts her. He’s watching, but if she’s not watching him watch her, she’ll be less self-conscious, and more… uninhibited. She’ll let herself feel good because he’s given her permission to, clearly wants her to, and god, does she want to please him. 

She pushes her skirt up, knows he can see the purple lace panties she’s wearing, the ones she guides to the side so she can run her fingers over bare flesh. She’s wet, that’s no surprise, and she knows this is going to be quick, quicker because Eric is rumbling desire beside her and she wishes it were his fingers slipping through her slick. 

“Mmm. Ooh,” she sighs as she slides her hand over her pussy, her lips easily spread and warm beneath her touch. She arches her back a little and rubs harder, a little faster, to feel that electric shock through her body. “Oh, god.” 

“That’s it,” Eric encourages, squeezing her unoccupied hand, and her legs open wider almost instinctively, her hips tilting off the seat so she can press open her heat and ease one finger inside. “You’re fucking perfect,” he all but growls, and it vibrates through her, makes her buck her hips like she had in her dream, taking him in deeply, completely. “Another finger.”

She complies, sinks another finger inside; her hand is barely moving, it’s her rocking body that’s doing all the work, and part of her feels shameless and dirty, but the other part knows Eric wants this, is proud of her, maybe even worked her up on purpose so he could get her to do this in front of him. Either way, it’s a task she’s happy to perform, and when she comes on her own fingers she can hear the hitch of his breath, the wet snick of his fangs dropping.

The sound is almost enough to get her going again, but she’s exhausted and blissful, so she just hums her contentment before withdrawing her fingers and resting her hand on her thigh. 

They’re parked on the side of the road, she realizes when she opens her eyes, in a remote area that looks kind of familiar. She blinks through her lashes, then turns her head to look at Eric, who… god, how could he even get hotter? But he is, his eyes blue like sizzling fire, his lips parted; neither of them speak, but he takes her other hand and wipes her fingers clean using the inside of her dress before they have a chance to make her uncomfortable. With a gentle touch, he fixes her crumpled panties, then leans in to brush his lips over hers again and again and again.

Eric gets her home, gets her cleaned up and into bed, and she reaches for him, wants him near. He understands why, and he knows he shouldn’t have pushed her that far in the car, that it was a selfish idea, even if it was spur of the moment; still, it happened, and he is as responsible for taking care of her now as he is for her previous arousal. He stays as long as he can before the sun threatens, laying in her bed and holding her until her breathing evens out in sleep.

That morning when Eric dreams of Cam, she is covered in blood: it’s a mixture of his blood and hers, leaking sluggishly from wounds he’s created with his fangs, with a sharp knife, its handle made of bone. Her wrists are above her head, tied together with a cord of leather and fastened to the post of her bed, and she writhes and whimpers as he thrusts his fingers into her soaked pussy, as he sucks at the juicy artery of her inner thigh.

“Please, please,” she repeats like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut and then open and nearly rolling back in her head. “God, Eric, please.” 

“You’ll take what I give you,” he says, leaning up, letting blood dribble from his mouth onto the soft flesh of her stomach as he kisses it, and she gasps, nods her head. 

“Yes, daddy,” she corrects, though she shifts her hips up for more contact like a greedy girl indeed. “Whatever you give me, I’ll–I’ll take it.” 

“Yes you will. Good girl,” he praises, licking at the spilled blood, and then swiftly flips her over, imagining the gorgeous smears of crimson she’ll leave on the fresh white sheets. 

He pushes into her from behind, presses forward on his palms until he’s fully sheathed inside her tight, fluttering heat, then clamps a hand down on the back of her neck, rough and possessive. 

“Take it, sweetheart, that’s right,” he mumbles as he fucks her, enveloped in the pleasure of her body, of the sweet sounds she makes for him, ones he’s actually heard firsthand; he’s craved domination since she first kissed him, maybe sooner, and he knows if she gives herself to him like this in reality, during the night, he will be lost. “Camila,” he pants, then leans in so he can press his cheek to hers. “Camila.” 

“Eric,” she moans as he pounds against her, as his fingers twist into her hair and pull, undoubtedly making her roots ache. “Eric.”

“Camila. Camila. Camila.”

It’s barely night when Cam all but bursts through the front door of Fangtasia, wearing a pair of black pants and a white tank top, her hair loose in flowing waves. She looks serious, concerned, beautiful. “Hey. Pam called, came to pick me up—what’s going on?” 

He knows he must look taken aback, because he didn’t have time to prepare his expression for that kind of questioning. He barely had time to register her presence.

“Nothing, I—Pam called you?” he verifies, and then Pam walks in the door, hovers behind Cam, though she doesn’t try to explain herself to him. Cam just nods and moves closer.

“Yeah. She said you needed me, that it was urgent,” she says, her eyes flicking over his face, his body, the line between her brows worried. This is so different from their last interaction, and he has difficulty wrapping his head around it.

“And you came.” He says it flatly, is able to conceal his… what is it, wonder, that she could care about him so much? As if she can tell anyway—and she probably can—she reaches for him, rests her hand on his forearm.

“Of course. Are you alright? Do you need me?” 

“I think you should drink my blood,” he says before he has half a second to even think about the implications of it. Cam clearly feels the whiplash of his statement, blinks slowly a couple of times as if processing it.

“Sorry, what? I must have missed some of the conversation,” she tells him, and Pam perks up over Cam’s shoulder, nodding rapidly. 

She’ll have to wait, because Cam is looking at him like he’s growing a second head.

“I think you should drink my blood. It would further strengthen our bond—you’d feel me if I were in distress, as I feel you. And I would be able to find you, if something went wrong. It’s more reliable than other forms of communication.” 

He thinks briefly about the ways they already feel each other and wonders absentmindedly if this will be the thing that actually pushes him over the edge of sanity. Cam considers him seriously and eventually nods.

“Okay. I should—I mean, we should do that, right?” she asks, looking up at him for confirmation. It makes him feel… special, to know his opinion matters this much to her. “Are there any side effects I should know about? I know your blood can heal, and I just consider that a perk.” 

Eric nods, and sighs, hopes what he tells her won’t put her off the whole idea.

“You may feel some physical changes for a while after you drink, like stronger senses, a bit more speed and agility. Mentally, you might find that I cross your mind more often. It’s part of the enhanced emotional tether we’d share. We’ll be even more attuned to each other’s state of being than we are now.”

She sets her bag down on the bar, but doesn’t appear phased by his admission.

“That’s good. It will help with the… stuff. The work, and the protection, mostly. So how do I—I mean, do you cut yourself, or bite yourself, or do I have to bite you?” she asks, gesturing to his neck. “I’m not sure I can bite that hard.” 

“I would cut or bite myself to bleed for you,” he assures, his throat nearly closing up as he says the words. Five minutes ago this wasn’t an option, and now they’re discussing the specifics like it’s about to become reality. He’s surprised to find himself overwhelmed. “It is a very strong bond, Camila,” he says as a final disclaimer, giving her time to think this over if that’s what she needs. “Very strong, but breakable, in time.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she says more quickly than she probably should. Part of him wishes she would worry—that he’s bad for her, that he’s pushed her this far already, that he wants her like he’s never wanted in his existence—but her tone is determined and sure. “Can we do it tonight?” 

“Yes,” Pam answers for him, walking up beside her. Cam drops her hand where she’d been touching Eric and takes a half-step away from him. “You can go do it now, in the office. It’s nothing ceremonial, just a quick nip and you’re on your way,” she says with a saccharine smile. Cam looks at her, tilts her head, and eventually looks back at Eric. 

“She’s being way too nice. Does she gain anything from this? Commission, or something?” Cam asks, half-joking, and it does lighten the mood and bring a huff of a laugh to Eric’s lips. He shakes his head.

“No, she’s just nice sometimes; I know it can be unsettling.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, walking toward the back of the bar and bringing her along beside him.

“Very,” Cam says as she glances over her shoulder at Pam before walking through the office door. 

Eric closes it and pauses, taking a deep, unnecessary but very needed breath.

“I know this is sudden, and what I’m asking of you is no small thing. If you need time to think it over…” Eric begins, his gaze soft on Cam’s face. Cam shakes her head.

“I know, and the same goes for you. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about this, weighing your options, and I want you to know I understand that it’s important to you, sharing your blood like this. I don’t take it for granted.” 

It takes him a moment to let that sink in, she thinks, can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“I appreciate you saying that. It’s not something I do every day, but I am sure, if you are.” 

He steps closer to her, gently touches her face, and she flashes back to that night at Melanie’s, the ride home after. Her throat constricts and her heart pounds in her chest. 

That’s not what this is, she reminds herself. This isn’t dedication to each other, or something done out of lust or love. It will benefit them both, and Eric has decided the reward outweighs the risk. That’s all it is. 

Still.

“I’m sure.”

With that, he nods and steps backward toward the desk, then leans against it and tugs up the sleeve of his v neck sweater, displaying thick, pale forearm and smooth, unmarked wrist. His eyes, darker than usual—probably due to the dimness of the office—linger over her lips, then meet her own gaze, and he lets his fangs fall without the usual fanfare. 

She steps toward him and takes his hand, an acknowledgment of the seriousness of this, of the preciousness of this thing he’s offering; when he lifts his wrist to his mouth, their fingers are wrapped together. 

He punctures his own skin like he would a human’s, two small wounds welling up with blood—and the way he looks at her as he does it, like they’re already tethered, like he’s seeing into every corner of her… it makes her heart race, her face flush. She does what feels natural—and maybe that’s taking it a step too far, but she can’t help herself—and sinks to her knees, bringing their hands to about thigh level before catching the slowly falling drops with her tongue. 

At first, she sucks in a way that feels graceless and a little humiliating, so unfamiliar with this action in this context, but when Eric moans at the pressure of her mouth it becomes pure hunger. She takes his offering for the gift that it is, bunching the fingers of her other hand into the fabric of his sweater just over his stomach, and she drinks, and drinks, and drinks. 

It has to be more than enough, she thinks around a moan of her own—it’s less about the taste for her and more about the feel of it, slick on her lips and warmer than she would have expected—but when his free palm falls to the top of her head, pushing her hair back from the curve of her face, all she knows for certain is that she never wants it to end. 

It does, though, like all good things, and then Eric guides her to her feet and leans in for a deep, long, kiss that she feels with her entire body. He easily shifts their positions, so she’s the one propped against the desk, and then he pushes her onto it, curls his fingers around the back of her neck and keeps kissing. 

They trade groans as their mouths move, frenzied, her hands grabbing at his shoulders, his careful but possessive on her face and throat. Her legs are parted, and she wants to wrap them around his body, pull him in closer and closer until they’re as tightly pressed as she needs them to be, but he slows his kiss and ultimately, unfortunately, backs away. 

Icy blue eyes peer into hers as he moves fingers to her chin, tipping her face up so she’s locked in his gaze. Her chest heaves, and her body trembles like there’s something inside that wants to burst out of her skin and present itself to him, though she’s not sure what that may be.

“You will feel me, now,” he says, back to business as if he hadn’t just kissed her until she was lightheaded and thrumming with desire, as if he’s not hard in his pants, from the blood sucking or the kiss, she’s not sure. “I will find you, wherever you are.” 

“And I’ll find you,” she confirms, wetting her lips; she’s almost surprised to taste his blood there, metallic but sweet, even more surprised when he swipes his thumb through it and brings it to his own mouth. 

“All you need to do is call for me, and I promise I will come.”

“Why did you call her?” Eric asks Pam later, after Cam is long gone and the bar is closing up. Pam rolls her eyes and counts a stack of cash.

“Because I’ve had enough. You were moaning her name in your sleep,” she says, with an unsubtle hint that she finds the thought nauseating. She pauses her counting and flicks her eyes up to his. “I don’t normally like mixing business with pleasure, but I still think things would be better if the two of you just fucked already. And now that you’ve shared blood—” she begins, but he stops her with a look.

“She drank mine. I still haven’t tasted hers.” 

For some reason, that lights her eyes up, puts a smirk on her merlot-painted lips.

“Really?” she asks in a lilting tone. “I would have figured you’d taken a sip during one of your, ‘investigations.’”

It’s Eric’s turn to roll his eyes, and he walks away, but unfortunately, Pam follows.

“Why would she want me to? Why would she want someone like me? With the desires I have for her?”

“She’s not exactly an angel herself,” Pam tells him, and he turns abruptly on his heel, knows she must see fury in his eyes. She raises her hands in apology. “Easy. All I mean is, I’ve seen the two of you together. She knows you, darkness and all, and she still wants you. She’s practically shown her belly trying to submit to you—either that or she deserves a good damn Academy Award.”

“That doesn’t mean I should take advantage—”

“Eric, come on, you love taking advantage,” she says sternly, hands moving to her hips. She looks like a teenager, and he finds that agitating.

“Not like this,” he says, pointing a finger at her, ending the conversation effectively with just that gesture and a few final words. “Not of her.”

He doesn’t dream of Cam that night, doesn’t need to: he can practically feel the slip of cotton over her skin as she changes into pajamas, the softness of the pillow when she lays down her head.

[ddejavvu]

i think hotch has a thing for freshly manicured nails. fucking LOVES when you get your nails done. walks by your desk, stops, grabs your hand and says "this is a beautiful color on you honey" before kissing your hand and going up to his office. loves it when you get matte brown nails but loves it even more when you get a shiny blood red manicure. cant stop picturing those pretty fingers pumping his thick cock. and how pretty your nails match your lipstick?? loves seeing those lipstick smears all over him. drives him insane. he slips you a $50 with a note saying "pink" or "blue" every week. LOVES that you always get whatever color he asks for. starts getting you dresses and skirts n stuff that match your nails. he thinks your square nails look prettiest but your pointed nails dig into his back in the most delicious way. no matter what really aaron is going to bust a nut over your pretty nails

this post is 18+, minors dni.

mmm the sugar daddy vibes that this gives off. doesn't matter that you're his girlfriend/wife and not his sugar baby, just bc the purpose of your relationship isn't money doesn't mean he doesn't shower you with it <3 he really likes holding your hand ofc, and even more than that he loves rubbing his hand over your nails, 'cause it feels nice over the pads of his fingers when there's smooth gel there instead of slightly rough nail. you're like his little stress toy :')

but absolutely is drawn to certain colors!! sometimes it depends on the seasons, he'll do warmer colors for autumn and lots of greens/pinks/blues for spring, but mostly it's just whatever mood he's in, matching whatever set of lingerie he wants to see you in this week. absolutely fucking loves when you match your makeup and especially lipstick to the color of your nails, or vice versa, and yes he loooves when you sit there and do some body worship for him, kissing all over his thighs and stomach and chest and cock <333 cover him in kiss marks while squeezing his thighs with your nails, he's begging u

no bc once he realizes he can formally request a nail color from you... sometimes he just venmos you the money, or transfers it into your account and texts you, but you really really loooove when he does it physically :') he'll bring you coffee in the morning and leave the cash/note tucked into the cup sleeve, or he'll whisk you away to the kitchen and murmur whatever color he wants against your lips while he tucks the cash in your back pocket <3333

most of his daydreams have to do with your hands (and matching mouth) all over his cock. he just can't stop picturing your hands everywhere on him, those nails scraping over his skin and those lips matching their hue, leaving stains behind for him to remember <3

[rzyraffek]

Could you please do headcanons Slashers (like Michael, Brahms, Billy, The Sinclair brothers) as caregivers for their S/O who is an age regressor

Or headcanons for those Slashers when they find out their s/o is an age regressor?

Okay I acually went and educated myself on this topic for you my dear anon🥰🌼

if your uncomfortable with topic of age regression pls dont read that😭

So basically as far as I understand age regression means that somone acts like child due to some traumatic event??? And like they act childlike and participate in child typical activies (such as drawing with crayons, speaking like a toddler, drinking from bottles ect) if i make headcanon that don't make any sense im sorry! I have no experience with this topic! ALSO this is pure platonic! Age regression isn't a kink or a fetish!!

Slashers with age regressor y/n

Brahms Heelshire

Tbh y/n acting childish kinda woke up his inner child, CUZ HE LITTERALY GOT LOCKED IN WALLS IN AGE OF LIKE 10 so he kinda missed out on some fun stuff

100% plays hide and seek! Or tag! My man loves some good round of hide and seek, this place is huge! *insert british accent* "oh you little scallop... if I find you I will tickle you so hard..."

Question: age regression is like temporary or like forever thing? Like regressor acts like that when they are in bad metal state or just always? Bcs if always then it might be hard with Brahms, see he kinda.... has mommy's issues has huge need to be taken care of, probably similar to y/n's, he kinda wants a person who will just pamper him and make him feel like he's the single child yknow? All the attention on him? Yknow what i mean??

If y/n draws him something nice, dude will put it on a fridge with a magnet and be proud

If thats like temporary thing, he acaully will ask a lot of questions: how should he act? Do you remember anything? How does it work? Can he get some cuddles? Do you still love him while regressing? (Ofc you do, but he doest understand)

Billy Lenz

You guys vibe

Dude won't see any difrence😭

Yay one more reason to watch cartoons together! (His favorite ponny is rarity and fluttershy)

If y/n babytalks and uses toddler-like vocabulary... dude will mimic it😭 he just thinks that will help with communication😭 its not like you guys struggle with it or anything, Billy is just build like that

Yall draw together, his artstyle already looks like toddler drew it (not in cute way)

Plays dolls with y/n (but he acually makes it interesting! Like he makes it all dramatic and the tea is just jawdropping)

Also don't bother explaining what is age regression, just say "sometimes I act like kid to cope"😭

Micheal Myers

Judges

But kinda likes it, not in weird way! He enjoys taking care of y/n, but he has his own ways of doing so

He won't play with them or let them cuddle him too much

But he accepts little drawings and stickers that y/n gives him

He is still stalking them, making sure noone tries to bully them or anything

He is very protective, for example if y/n cuts their finger while making food, dude is all over them: Oh no no dont cry! Uhhh.... uhhh oh! See a pretty bandage? With puppies! Pls dont cry...

On rare days he is acually around (phicially i mean, cuz hes always around just not interacting with y/n) and it happens for him to be in good mood too, he will let y/n nap on him or put some stickers on his outfit- he never takes them of btw, the only reason that stickers wash of is the field he 'works' in? Yknow a lot of mud blood and water. He also holds y/n hand if they are spooked

And he fucking loves fluttershy and applejack

Steals some cute shirts and socks for them!

Sinclair Bros

Bo is the least understanding, tbh he will lisen to y/n only if they have very good relationship

Vince is just 👍

And Lester is acually very open to the idea

Drawing and playing dolls with Vincent

Going on cool drives with Lester

And napping with Bo

Whole fridge is covered in drawings and cute magnets

All Vincent's notebooks and Lester truck covered in stickers

Even Bo gun didnt escape the sticker apocalypse

Vince made special wax figurines for y/n

Lester calls them "kiddo" 😭😭

Bo puts his hand on their head and rubs it till their hair goes all puffy

They all act like older brothers who have to take care of younger siblings while perents are away😭😭

Vince acually vents to regressing y/n and they are just like: "man I just wanna pet the dog"

Bonus round! Added few more!!

Bubba Sawyer

Bestie vibes

Yall just spend time playing with dolls and drawing together

Absolutely lets y/n nap on him

He totally combs their hair and puts them in nice bun (or if y/n has short hair he will just brush it)

He kinda sees age regression as lil break from reality? Like you two can just vibe and act they way you want to😊 he enjoys, cuz tbh he do be acting like child(not in bad way!) And his happy that you both can do all those child-like activities without being judged by other person

Bit y/n once

Asa Emory

Ew a child

I mean

Idk he gives me "the dad that never has time for u cuz he has too much work"

Like yep he will read y/n a bed time story and he will tell them all about bugs and nature. But hes busy most of time

OMG ABOUT BED TIME STORIES Asa will read you one but he is so exhausted that he acually falls asleep first

He trusts them and knows that even whilr regressing they wont do anything dumb, but he still bans them from his 'workroom' theres... well some photos and drawings of victims and i doubt y/n wants to see it

Lets them sit on his lap while he reads newspaper like middle-aged man he is

Gives lil head kisses before sleep

Bug themed plushies and figures

Makes y/n watch animal planet and bbc nature with him

When he's out for longer periods of time he will buy them McDonald's as an apology

Welp

Done. I hope it makes sense! I never witnessed anyone age regress so idk how relatable it is!! I used x reader tags only to reach bigger audience

[four-rabbit]

*Comes into the room covered in blood*I have thoughts about autistic Kabru

- His special interest is either psychology, sociology or anthropology

- He's high masking ofc

-He barely feels hunger or tiredness or the need to go to the bathroom until its almost too late. He constantly feels what he can only describe as "bad vibes" just to realize he hasn't eaten/slept in days. If you see him suddenly get up with panic in his eyes and run away that's because he just realized he has to go to the bathroom NOW

- He either only sleeps for like two hours per night or ten straight hours no in between

- When unmasked he's a non stop intense eye contact girlie.

- I think most of his stims are vocal and I'm convinced that he has so much echolalia

- He loves gossip simply because he's always happy to learn things about people. Even people he has never met and will never meet

- He cleans his room like once a month and it stays clean for a day at best.

- He cannot stand bland food. For example, hard boiled eggs. Just no. This is projection.

- He doesn't hate physical contact, but he always prefers to be the one initiating it.

- I feel like he sleeps in a very specific position.

- I think he same foods without even realizing and only notices it when someone points out he has been eating the same thing for month now.

- Another stim he has is twirling his hair it just makes sense to me. I can see him doing it when he's trying to think

[arkiliastuff]

Prologue - In a Concrete Jungle

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : I thought about this one for a while and, even though I have a lot of other fanfics that are waiting to be finished/written, I wanted to share this one in particular with you :D It's been on my mind for months, the lore maturing in my head. It's going to be a LOT different from what I usually write but I'm trying things and despite the dark mood in this story I hope you'll enjoy it as well ! :D

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, cyber-futuristic vibe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~The little bean taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw -> ask me if you want to be tagged :D

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

She walked there, in this desolate landscape, with a strong determination. Two girls who seemed to look like her friends were following her, looking behind them briefly. Probably afraid of someone or something that will come after them. After all, they went out without authorization. They went out in this no man’s land, caused by gangs and mafias. Many civilians had perished because of this war. The survivors were hiding underground, in the subway. The reason why they went outside was because one of them, a girl with glasses and blue eyes, forgot her necklace at the church where she always went to pray. So after complaining to her friends about her precious loss, the strong-willed brunette who was among them decided to go and get the necklace back. The two other friends eventually followed her even though they were feeling nervous about disobeying.

“If we hurry, we will be back in no time” She said, trying to reassure her anxious friends.

And so, just like the bold brown-haired girl said, they arrived at the place. The church had been bombed. The two girls felt sad about the destruction, but the leader didn't seem to be moved by it. Instead, she was more focused on her mission, looking for the necklace, while making sure nobody would come to arrest them. She was in hypervigilance, almost looking paranoid. She looked everywhere under the seats and chairs that were still there until she saw something shiny. She reached for it and then wiped the dust on it. It was a crux with a silver chain. 

“I found it, Faith.” She stated, calling for her friend.

The latter one walked towards her, analyzing what she found before realizing what it was.

“It's my necklace ! Thank you so much, Audy !” Faith replied happily, using the usual friendly nickname for her friend.

The latter one just nodded in silence, her focus back on her group and looking for their second friend.

“Where is Daisy ?”

The two of them looked around the ruined church before they saw the red-haired girl who was near some candles next to a shrine of prayer. She lit up a candle and prayed in silence for their sake. Faith joined Daisy, lighting up a candle as well while Audy was watching them, starting to get annoyed.

“Come on guys, we cannot stay here too long.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Daisy replied.

A few seconds later a breeze came through, extinguishing the timid flames on the two candles. From this moment, Faith and Daisy stood up and stopped praying, turning on their heels at the same time towards Audy.

“We’re done.” The first one said.

“The Lord has heard our prayers.” The second added.

“What ? Already ? But you just lit the candles a few minutes ago” Audy replied, confusion in her eyes.

“It is the way it is. It’s probably a good omen” Faith said.

“Wait.. Let me just light the candles again.” The brunette said sheepishly.

As she was going slowly to the shrine, about to light the candles with another one, both of her friends widened their eyes in shock, attempting to stop her.

“DON’T !” Daisy yelled.

“DON’T DO IT, AUDREY ! You’re disrespecting His words !”

The long browned-haired one stopped her movement in the air, the spark just above the candle’s wick reaching it slowly but surely. Then, she looked at Faith and Daisy, an angry and dead gaze in her dark eyes.

“Even if I lit up those candles again, do you think it would change a fucking thing for what happened to our city ? To our families ? To our friends ?” She replied, clenching her teeth together as she spat her words like venom, anger getting the best of her, before she continued.

“No, it wouldn’t. Don’t take that fucking breeze as a sign from your Lord, ‘cause you two know better that, if He wanted to help us, He would have done it already. We are responsible for our own downfall. For our own misery. And no Gods will ever help us. Only the demons that you’re afraid of will answer us because they're close to what we are.”

After that, she saw the shock on her friends' faces, trying to reach out to her and yelling at her that she was irreverent by saying those words. It was the shock before the sound of something falling as fast as lightning just dropped on the ruined church. And then everything exploded. Bricks of the building were thrown away at Daisy and Faith’s head, knocking them out immediately. Audrey got hit as well, feeling her blood flowing from her face before blurring her vision. The last thing she saw was her two friends on the ground, blood running from their heads. Then, it went completely white.

━─━「₪」━─━

Aurey woke up, sweating all over her body as she was panting, trying to gain some air. She put a hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the sweat away and checking it. There wasn’t any blood. She sighed in relief but not too long. She knew it couldn’t be just a dream.

“This wasn’t just a nightmare” She whispered to herself, knowing too well this situation.

She stood up, got her gear on her and packed her stuff together before leaving the spot where she slept. She knew she shouldn’t have slept there. 

It was a small cave of collapsed buildings parted together which were composed of cables, metal pieces of broken engines everywhere. 

It could crumble any minute. But she took the risk anyway, as she felt this one was more safe. She didn’t know how long she slept but she was aware it was late. Once she got out, she covered her nose as she smelled an heavy and toxic smoke. It was the smell of somewhat burned vehicles and trash cans not that far away. It was, probably, another threat from a gang who were arguing again in the city.

She put her customized respirator on, breathing again. Then, she started to climb up the ruins, reaching for a higher spot to get a better view. She climbed a few minutes after finding a window, which gave a great opening view from below. She took her binoculars out of her pocket and started to look around. 

Through it, Aurey saw a usual wildfire in the city, on her right. She could barely hear the sound of gunshots. A lot was happening and she hoped her teammates could handle it while she went patrolling on her own. Suddenly she saw something blinking, in the corner of her left lens. She turned a bit more to her left and saw a black car entering the Nameless City. She had never seen a car like this before. This was the first time that she had witnessed new people arriving. Who could they be ? And why were they coming into this hell hole ? She made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on this vehicle and the people who were in it.

Meanwhile, Noah was lost in his thoughts as they were passing through the barbed wire gate of the city. He was just getting bored of the trip, having no idea why they got a call to come here. His partners and best friends in the car told him it was a well-paid mission, but he wasn’t really convinced by it. They had to do some cleanup as they were told. And given the sight of the city it seemed this town needed it. What was left of the police authorities were just broken cars, with no more tire or windows. They probably run away from all the chaos, just to survive somewhere else. Just being out of this mess. Noah kept staring through the window, his chin in the palm of his tattooed hand, just looking at all the clutter those crumbled buildings had made.

“A real concrete jungle…” He muttered.

Then he heard a howl. He was taken by surprise, not expecting to hear such a sound in this kind of city. He listened again, opening his window just to hear it more clearly. Another howling. It wasn’t human. It sounded more like an animal.

“ What was that ? Did you guys heard that ?” He said, his eyes widened as he couldn’t believe his ears.

"Heard what ?" Folio asked, not really paying too much attention to their surroundings.

"A howl. It sounded like a coyote. Or was it a wolf ?" Noah continued, his ears attentive to any other sound.

But the howling animal had stop. He still had no idea what his friends and him were getting into but he promised himself to investigate this strange city.

[mads-nixon]

i LOVED those chuckler headcanons - he's my absolute fave in the pacific and there's so little writing about him! could i request some more, maybe chuckler with a medic reader during wartime?

Chuckler Dating a Medic

Chuckler Juergens x Medic!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hi anon! Thanks for the request!! Love this gif (peep my baby hoosier 🫶) this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Being assigned to H company, you meet the boys on the ship over.

The first time Lew sees you, he has to do a complete double-take.

At first he's like, "That's a woman," and then he takes a good look at you..." Wow. that's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," type vibes.

He immediately gets a crush on you, and by the time y'all deploy to Guadalcanal, the poor fella is hopelessly in love, despite not knowing you for long.

Bill and Leckie's teasing is unending, and it's the only time you see Lew clam up and get embarrassed.

When the company first encounters the Japs at Tenaru, Lew's heart is in his throat every time he sees you dart from foxhole to foxhole, responding to the call for a corpsman.

He tried to keep tabs on you, but amongst the smoke and bullets in the air, he lost you. Even though he wanted to go searching for you, Lew knew you were good at your job and that he had his own to do, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

When morning came and the dust settled, he saw you sitting in a hole, staring off into space, your dungarees covered in blood (it's not yours). He freaks out and slides next to you, asking you a million questions.

Lew cups your cheeks gently to get you to look at him, and instinctually, you lean forward and connect your lips. It was s short kiss (really like a peck), but it shut Chuckler up, and he stared at you dumbfounded.

"You just kissed me," he says, his eyes wide.

You smile, your teeth a contrast to the dirt and blood on your face. "I did."

Then...boom, he asks you to be his girlfriend, and you ofc say yes. You've gotta keep it on the DL, but the boys know and joke about it constantly, but you also know they would take the secret to the grave if they had to.

Any time Lew would get even the slightest bit hurt, and I mean like a tiny cut on his finger or something, you'd go in full medic mode.

"I need to disinfect it," and "Let me see, hon."

Deep down, you're absolutely terrified of losing him, so you kind of go crazy making sure you do everything in your power to keep him healthy.

You're probably the mom friend of the group and always make sure they're all doing okay. In turn, Chuckler is always there for you if you want to talk about anything.

Being a medic is draining, and there are some days that you just lay in his arms at night, trying to forget the blood and death you'd witnessed that day.

By the time you got to Melbourne, you were almost to your breaking point. Seeing boys blown to bits and crying for their mothers day after day became too much.

Instead of going out and exploring, you stayed in the stadium and slept like Hoosier. You told Chuckler to go have fun, but he insisted on staying with you. He sat propped against the legs of your cot, rubbing your hand gently, trying to coax you to sleep.

As the months went on in the Australian city, everything seemed to get better, and you took advantage of the time you had with Lew.

You went to the beach, learned how to play cricket, and went on a million picnic dates.

When your orders came that you were going to ship out again, Lew went out, bought a ring, and proposed.

You say yes, and he puts the ring on a chain for you to wear.

On Cape Gloucester, you were often caught up in the medic tent treating infections and other illnesses like the enuresis that Bob ended up developing.

Pavuvu was even worse when it came to sickness. Runner was badly sick with malaria, and you and Lew were tending to him the best you could, but there wasn't much you could do.

You'd stay up all night beside his bedside, keeping tabs on his fever and making sure he didn't need anything. After a few days of this, you were dead on your feet, and Chuckler had to step in.

He'd gently urge you to bed and sit beside your cot, running his hand through your hair. Within seconds, soft snores escaped your mouth and you were out like a light.

From Pavuvu, you went to Peleliu, and nothing could ever prepare you for what you saw there. It was the bloodiest, most horrifying thing you'd witnessed so far. By the time the Marines took the airfield, Leckie, Bill, and Runner had been hit, and you had no idea where Lew was.

When you found him, you almost cried, and he engulfed you in a HUGE hug, lifting you off your feet for a moment.

The pair of you stick side by side through the campaign on Peleliu until he gets hit, and when he does, you patch him up as you try not to fall apart.

Finally, you're called back off the line, and you're by Lew's side the whole time as he's carried on the stretcher to the medical ship. You couldn't go with him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you said a tearful goodbye and kissed him softly, promising you'd see him soon.

You wrote him as you made your way through Okinawa, and you burst into tears when the news of the war's end reached you.

Lew was waiting for you when you finally got to come home. The first thing y'all do is go to the courthouse and get married!

The two of you spend the rest of your lives living outside Chicago in a small town that was quiet and peaceful, except for the trouble your kids caused when became teenagers!

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag!

[melkyt]

CW Blood, Dubcon, emotional abuse, everything that could go along with DoffyLaw, Lawlu endgame

Vampire au where they have an unhealthy spawn and creator relationship, where Law can't quite get away because Doffy has power over him.

The Originals vibes, Klaus And Elijah, but its Cora and Doffy,

Doffy blaming Law for the fact that he 'had' to dagger his brother, and using that guilt to twist Law's perceptions, and put him under control. Also the fact that Law preatty much begged Doffy to become a vampire, they have a complicated relationship as most Vampires do when it comes to their spawn and vice versa

Luffy in his 'i dont what i want corner' freshly turned Hybrid, not a vampire or a werewolf but something else. He got cursed with vamperism for pissing a witch of, and then awakened as a wolf on first kill, so nobody controls him and he continues to get into peoples business but now with ten times more success lolol

Ofc he gets into Doffy's business, crosses Law who handles things Doffy considers below him. Law sees an opportunity to take down his sire with this feral wolf.

He cant stands wolves but he is willing to look past it so he can take down Doflamingo and free Cora.

Drama, blood, magic, toxic codependent relationships, throw in some prophecy about hybrids and how Luffy will bring a new age for all species.

Law who first wanted to just use Luffy, getting attached and starting to believe the prophecy.

Doffy taking control of Law as a thrall, forcing him to do shit against his will.

Some grand scene where Luffy breaks through to Law, and Law trying to say its useless and giving up that Doflamingo will always control him, there is no point, whats going to stop him from doing worse next time? What if he kills someone, what if he killls Luffy? Law set on them parting ways and determined to make a deal with Doflamingo so Luffy is never hurt again, and left alone.

Luffy calls him an idiot, and they probably fight in a dramatic adrenaline fueled skirmish that is just *charged*. Perfect time for them to kiss covered in blood xd.

They eventually tell Doffy to fuck off, and leave them alone, maybe stab him with a dagger and leave him in Cora's place in an eternal slumber

Luffy biting Law and then sharing his blood, so Law is a hybrid from that point on. That causes other problems, as Luffy is his sire now, but thats another story for another time xd.

[meowzfordayz]

Fundraiser for Cullen

Hiya. ☺️ If you have a moment, then I’d really appreciate you reading this. 💓 I’m not the best w/ medical terms and situations 😅, so I am copy-pasting this from their gofundme, but my dear friend/fellow writer’s son Cullen (who’s 6 yrs old)...

... has been diagnosed with Severe Aplastic Anemia, a rare and life-threatening blood disorder Aplastic anemia is a condition that occurs when your body stops producing enough new blood cells. The condition leaves you fatigued and more prone to infections and uncontrolled bleeding. Which has weakened his immune system and left him in need of a bone marrow transplant, without a bonemarrow transplant he will unfortunately have on average 5 years to live.

(...)

Now that they’ve accomplished the daunting challenge of finding a bone marrow donor, it comes down to covering the cost of the transplant which isn't an easy feat at all. That's why we are launching this GoFundMe campaign to help support Cullen and his family during this difficult time. Our goal is to raise $200,000 to 400,000k to cover the cost of the bone marrow transplant and associated medical expenses.

To be transparent, I have already donated myself (as has my own partner), and would be very grateful for any further donations. 💗 Cullen considers me “cat lady”, which makes me extremely happy 😂, and has always been a bright, inquisitive kid while on Discord calls (w/ my friend, ofc).

Even just $5 (cheaper than most Starbucks drinks) means a lot, or a simple reblog to circulate this info to ppl who are in safer positions to be able to give financially. 💝 Thanks so much for your time, and sending you warm and healthy vibes!

[mrsdesade]

1 character x 10 songs x 10 headcanons

The Corinthian (Sandman)

Songs that I think they might be perfect for Mr. Teeth for Eyes because of the lyrics or the vibes, I'm dropping here just because, maybe I can make you discovering new music? I also leave THE CORINTHIAN PLAYLIST I've created for him!

A Little Piece of Heaven - Avenged Sevenfold

Baby, don't cry.

You had my heart, at least for the most part. […]

Ripped her heart out right before her eyes.

Eyes over easy, eat it, eat it, eat it.

hc: The lyrics is self-explanatory I must say... the whole song is screaming his name and his love story with someone.

—————————

2. Bite - Derivakat

Allow me just one little bite.

Eternity is so rewarding. [...]

Darling, stay with me.

These fangs are my only proposal.

hc: After many years of bonding and sharing feelings, he propose to you to share the eternity, trying to convince you to come to the dark side of being a nightmare like him.

—————————

3. You and I - Aryia

The story begins with a boy and a girl,

she loved the way he was stronger than her

But that sick little fuck, no, he didn't stop.

He took away her voice as she screamed NO!

A killers mind behind the face of God,

The devil's disguise is the great facade.

Mistake manipulation for a thing like love.

Started with a kiss but ends in blood.

hc: Ouch, you got the bad ending, he had fun with you, but the story ends in blood and ofc no one can help you against him. You trusted him, but he just played with your feeling.

—————————

4. JENNIFER'S BODY - Chris Grey, PLVTINUM & Dutch Melrose

She's out for revenge,

My baby she's out for revenge ah,

Her hands 'round my neck,

Fuck around and you might just be next.

I need to put my hands on Jennifer

Everybody runs away, but I run to her.

hc: You're deranged as him, that's what he likes about you. Sharing murders and crimes with his lovely half, what a dream for him. He loves watching and kissing you when you're covered in blood.

—————————

5. Love Me To Death - Nikki Idol

Love me to death, baby.

Until the end.

You're romantic, diabolic, hypnotic.

You do it so right baby , you make me cry.

We're fucking so hard that we might call this art.

It's like a movie.

Sex, liquor, roses.

hc: What can I say, that's the kind of song that he's gonna play when you two are alone at night in the comfort of your bed. His touch is that of a devil in love, delicate as velvet, warm as a supernova, suffocating as cigarette smoke.

—————————

6. Ride - Chris Gray

Lil baby wanna ride, in the backseat pull over the car.

No she don’t give a fuck if we’re caught,

Runnin’ my hand on her thigh.

She said “I’m all yours for the night”

She came for the ride.

Le'ts fell in love for just a night.

hc: This song is giving me city night vibes, the endless hours that you two have spent taking aimless road trip in his car, free and unregulated, always end with a night of passion. And he loves it so much, you've no idea.

—————————

7. MASOCHIST - Ellise

It's bitter and sweet, oh, he's pretty and mean […]

My baby's a freak, yeah.

And I'm a masochist.

I'm stuck in his teeth, yeah.

There's poison on his lips, 'cause the bad ones love you better.

hc: Impossible not to fall for him, you accepted being his property and somehow saved your life... what you don't say is that you're having maybe too much fun in this dangerous situation.

—————————

8. Eat your Young - Hozier

I'm starving, darling,

Let me put my lips to something,

Let me wrap my teeth around the world,

Start carving, darling.

hc: Quite obvious as a choice, but the text speaks for itself. In a courtship he would be really sly, he would make you feel extremely flattered and desired, the outcome will then depend on how interesting you can be for him.

—————————

9. DANCE! Till We Die - 6arelyhuman

I wanna dance until we die, bitch I'm blinded by the lights

Yeah we do this every night!

Swear to God, I'm living fast, but everything movin' slow.

Wanna lock into my eyes, see the Devil, that's inside.

hc: He can hunts victims also in nightclubs, because he find it fun, and this song takes me back to scenes like that. Imagine dancing with him in the disco lights and being unaware that you are so close to the most dangerous predator in the city.

—————————

10. Mary on a Cross - Ghost

We were searching for reasons.

To play by the rules,

But we quickly found,

It was just for fools.

[…]

Your beauty never ever scared me.

hc: Predictably I couldn't leave this song out, the final phrase makes me weak for happy ending with him. When you discovered the secret behind his glasses, instead of running away you stopped to observe better, with sincere curiosity, caressing his cheeks in a caring way.

That's all for now! Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to suggest more characters, when I'm done with my comfort characters I'll be delighted to please you with music about yours 🤍

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: It’s The Feelings I Wear

Rating: M for Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC 

Word count: 6K 

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: Kamaria’s first day is filled with confidence and realization. Walter’s day is filled with self-doubt and introspection. Their day ends in a noteworthy way.

Chapter warnings: Mutual pining, accidental flirtation, intentional flirtation, angst, police interrogation procedure (or what Law & Order and The Shield have taught me is perfectly normal police procedure during interrogation), murder investigation (no details), flashback to a fight, Faye’s opinion on Rachel, spicy texting, different POV at times

A/N: I like to write in the third person (omniscient) for the most part, but as a challenge to myself, I decided to try writing in the first person for Kamaria and Walter in this chapter. Let’s see how this works out and if I wanna do it again. Un-beta’d, we die like people trying their absolute best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Cross-posted on AO3 @ ElleTheSpaceUnicorn

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Kamaria’s POV

After a fun weekend of self-care, a mani-pedi in a cute baby pink with medium coffin-shaped nails on my fingers and getting my locs redone, I am ready for my week to start. I am happy to be woken up Monday morning to my alarm blaring ‘Her’ by Megan Thee Stallion. The catchy and inspiring song was a choice I made last minute on Sunday night, wanting to be roused from sleep with confidence and purposefulness in my mind.

Oh, Megan, if only I had your confidence…and that body-ody-ody.

Grabbing Beary from the crook of my arm and placing him back against the pillows, I pull the covers back over my bed. Making my way to the kitchen for coffee, I’m reminded that I need to pick up some more creamer this week. Black coffee is too rich for my blood and my colon. I turn on the coffee pot and end up in the bathroom ready to shower. 

I turn on the shower, letting it warm up while I go grab my phone from my nightstand. Pulling up Spotify as I reenter the bathroom, I select the Shower Vibes playlist. Soon the soothing sounds of Solange’s ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’ is wafting in the air. This song always gets me in the right headspace.

I switch from my bonnet to my shower cap and step into the spray once it’s at the perfect temp. Just right to get squeaky clean and not enough to sweat and frizz up my hair. I put on my exfoliating gloves and pour on enough Apricot & Honey body wash to drown a small town. 

Rubbing my hands together, the scent of it permeates my soul. Stepping back from the water, I begin to lather my body.

Before I know it, my mind goes on auto-pilot washing my entire body, top to bottom. I step back into the spray backward to feel the pulsating water on my neck and back. Bless my water pressure. 

I turn around, allowing my front to be clear of the suds. I wring out my shower gloves and place them back in the shower caddy. I reach up and turn the nozzle to push water through the detachable showerhead to get my most delicate places nice and clean. I’m careful this time to not allow the powerful jets to lull me into a hazy state of arousal. The last thing I need to be is late to work for that.

I finish up and grab my towel from the hook, patting my skin dry and taking off my shower cap. I wind the towel around myself and turn off my music before walking back into the bedroom. Opening my closet, I see my first-day outfit looking back at me. A mustard yellow turtleneck sweater that makes my amber eyes pop and a pair of black skinny jeans to show off my curves. Not really sure what the dress code is but if all else fails, the jeans look sorta like dress pants so whatever.

I begin my skincare routine by applying face serum, moisturizer, and body lotion. Slipping on some underwear and a bra, I remember I started the coffee pot. 

Throwing on my satin robe and house slippers, I head to the kitchen to praise the caffeine gods. The warm aroma of french vanilla wafts into my nose and I smile. Why have any other flavor if french vanilla is available?

Within a short time, I have a perfect cup of coffee and a decent breakfast in my system so I head back to the bedroom to get dressed. I put my butterfly locks in a high bun, leaving out the front two locs to frame my face. I’m not really a big makeup girl with the primer and the foundation and the contouring. However, I do have my essentials and it’s basically muscle memory to apply so what the hell. I sit at my vanity and turn on my lighted mirror.

“Hey, Siri?” I pause and wait for my phone screen to light up and for Siri to acknowledge me. “Play ‘Female Energy, Part 2’ by WILLOW, please.” Siri accepts the command and the song begins to play.

From the instant that I hear the melodic voice of a woman older than her years, I am transported to a state of pure emotional wonder, thinking of my position in the world around me. I begin with a medium line of black eyeliner, followed by some of my favorite Lash Princess mascara. Torn between a matte dark brown lip and a glitter gloss, I choose the gloss because it will reflect every bit of light it catches. Maybe he will notice that little touch? I shake my head to clear my thoughts and apply Shades by Shan in the color ‘Erika(https://sbscosmetics.com/products/new-erika-lip-gloss)’ slowly while the final verse plays.

‘Am I to feel bolder 'cause / All of my pumping blood? / I am human, I am woman / Drifting down my life / Light up this time, light up this time / Oh, oh, oh, oh’

I stop the song before it could play again and get up to check out my outfit in my long mirror. Everything is in its place, nothing too tight. Putting on my flats, I check my phone. Exactly thirty minutes til I start work, with a twenty-minute drive to work, which will allow me to freak out in the parking lot for a good chunk of time. Perfect! 

In the living room, I collect my keys and purse and throw on my coat. Taking one final deep breath of unemployment, I exit my apartment and lock the door behind me.

I make my way to work and park my car near the end of the lot under a lamppost so that when I leave later, I’ll have the light for safety. I start to prepare myself for my specifically scheduled ‘freakout time’ when I hear the low rumble of a truck being backed up next to me. I wait until it's all the way in the spot before I look over at the same time the driver does. 

We exchange smiles and it feels like the world stops. I turn off my car, grabbing my phone from the mount and my purse from the passenger seat. I go to open the door and he does the same, motioning for me to go first. I’m just closing my door when he exits mere inches from me. I turn around to properly greet him, smelling the clean scent of him in the wind, and try and hide the way it goes straight to my pussy. Down, girl!

“Happy Monday, Detective,” I say, my lips only quivering slightly in my attempt to appear confident.

“Please, call me Walter. I feel like Detective sounds too formal. After all, I’ve already saved your life, right?” His deep baritone radiates through me and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was flirting with me. 

‘He’s not interested in someone like you. Think about it, sweetheart.’ The voice of my ex attempts to ruin my morning, I shake my head almost imperceptibly and continue to smile at Walter.

“How long are you gonna hold that against me, Walter? I swear to you, I didn’t stumble on purpose just to be caught by a handsome stranger.” Did I just fucking call him handsome to his face out loud where he could hear it? Don’t freak out. DON’T. FREAK. OUT.

The smile on his face goes from his mouth to his eyes, a slight blush creeping across those perfect cheekbones.

“Handsome stranger, eh? That just made my day, Kamaria. Thank you for that,” He winks at me and my pussy wakes back up at that gesture, “Dads aren’t used to compliments, ya know?” Oh, you have a kid?

“Oh, you have a kid?” Ok, I said that part out loud I guess. 

“Yeah, a daughter,” he says, taking out his phone and showing me the lock screen with a picture of a curly-haired girl smiling at the camera, “This is Faye, the light of my life. She’ll be 16 soon.”

“Oh my goodness. She’s gorgeous and she has your curls. Got your shotgun ready?” I laugh, knowing what a Dad would do to protect his daughter, thoughts of my own Dad’s exploits cross my mind.

“Oh, I would love to say it’s primed and loaded. But she’s a pistol. Smarter than she gives herself credit for. And would run circles around any smooth-talking, pock-marked little shit who tried her.” He smiles, putting his phone back in his pocket after checking the time. “Where has the time gone? Let’s get you into your first day, eh?” He motions for me to take the lead and throws another wink my way.

I suddenly remember I had no time to freak out in the car before going in. No time to think about that now, maybe I’ll just freak out a little later. Or something more professional, like excusing myself to the bathroom to have a quick anxiety attack. Perfect plan.

We walk into the building together, Walter holding the door for me. As I am shaking the chill of the early morning off and instantly feeling overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of those in the office, I hear Walter say my name.

“Kamaria?” He tilts his head and shoots me a grin, “You’ll wanna check in with the Desk Sergeant over to the right and let them know it’s your first day, yeah? Along the left wall there, the last one down before the hallway ends is my office. If you need anything, I’ll be in there most of the day and it would be nice to break away from paperwork even if for a second.” 

Ok, this man is most definitely flirting with me. At least, it feels like it. The winks, those smiles, basically inviting me to his office to distract him. What else is that, if not flirting? 

‘He’s just being nice to the inept charity case, sweetheart. Stop dreaming.’ And that’s when the asshole creeps back into my head to try and pull me back down. I ignore it and smile back at Walter.

“Thank you, Walter. For everything,” I start to make my way over to the right, and he to the left, “I’ll be sure to stop by and save you from the paperwork demons.” We are still in eyeshot and walking backward from one another, “I’ll see you later?”

“Later it is, Kam.” That little nickname he throws my way makes my cheeks warm and before I can ask about it, he turns and makes his way to his office. 

I end up standing in front of the Desk Sergeant, a burly bald man who looks like he could break me in half gives me a sweet smile and asks how he could help me. “My name is Kamaria Mansfield and it’s my first day as an intern and I have no clue where I’m supposed to be.” He takes pity on me and points to the intern pool and who has to be the manager giving an early morning meeting.

I rush over and give my name and the manager introduces me to the rest of the interns, none of them look to be starting on their first days as well. Awesome. Kind smiles and waves welcome me and I feel instantly calmed. 

Today will be a good day, hold onto this feeling as long as you can.

Walter’s POV

Kam? Where the fuck did that come from? I gave her a nickname without her permission. Might as well have called her ‘Sweet Cheeks’. Just as I am berating myself, someone walks into my office.

“I need you in Interrogation Room 2 before I lose my shit and plug this asshole into next week,” Commissioner Harper starts a tirade before I even have my coat off.

“Good morning, Commissioner.” I deadpan and start to follow him out of my office. 

“Yeah, good morning, is it?” The Commissioner raises an eyebrow and I get the hint.

I look to the intern pool as Kamaria is being introduced to her fellow gophers like starting at school late in the year. Her sweet smile stays on her face, her eye line focusing on those in her immediate vicinity so she doesn’t notice me walking out of my office and down to the hall.

Making it to Interrogation, the room’s atmosphere shifts as I notice Rachel behind the glass trying her best to stay in control while every other word out of our suspect’s mouth is cunt or whore. No matter how much she may dislike me, or our history, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.

I cross my arms and await her signal to come in and be the ‘bad cop’. She’s holding her own and I don’t want to interrupt that. Being a profiler, she knows what games to play and what tactics to use when it comes to hostile men. She’s not afraid in that room, she’s not submissive. She uses what she was blessed with, her feminine wiles and whatever training she can remember. It’s what any good cop would use when in this position, and she's damn good at it.

After the whole situation with Simon Stulls, I had to give her credit. She knew the tells, she knew there was more to the story. And she went after what she believed. After all, she did save my life. As much as I wanted to return the favor, I couldn’t. She was far too…in control of her own life. She wouldn’t allow herself to be in danger without knowing how to save herself. That’s just Rachel.

She doesn’t need me until she has no further tricks up her sleeve. And I have to be fine with that. I am fine with that. I, after all, have my sights set on another. While waiting for Rachel to look at the glass, I’m reminded of our last night together.

*Eight Months Ago*

Rachel was over at my house after work one night, we agreed to finish the casework outside of the office as another excuse to be able to spend time together.

She throws her pen down on the coffee table and turns to me. “Faye still hates me. And you do nothing about it. That sucks, Walter.”

“Faye doesn’t hate you. She can just tell that you and I are different people. I think she knows when I’m not happy and she knows I can’t hide that from her.” I catch her eye as she furrows her brows.

“If you would just realize that I’m not here to be saved, I think you’d be happier.”

“And if you would realize that I am not trying to save you, I think you’d be happier.”

“See, you say that. But all you do is open doors for me, and offer to help with every little thing and that makes me feel like I’m incapable. Like, I’m not in charge of my own life. And that shit goes against everything that I have been taught my entire life. I can do for myself. I don’t need you to help me do every little thing. Wait for me to ask for your help, once in a while. Don’t just…do.” Her voice raises as she gets up from the couch to walk over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

I stay where I am for a moment before standing up and leaning against the back of the couch to face her. “Look, I get it. You are your own woman. You don’t need me. And you have made that abundantly clear. You don’t need anyone. Until you do, and then here I am. Meant to pick up all your pieces. On your terms.” I move one step closer to where she stands. “Why do I never get terms? Why can’t I take care of you when I need to take care of you? Why do I have to wait until you’re ready to accept me as someone to care for you? How do you think that makes me feel? Knowing I’m nothing more than at your beck and call, for when YOU deem it necessary for me to feel helpful? How is that fair to me?”

“I don’t mean to make you feel as though you can’t help me, but you have to realize that 95% of the time I can do it on my own. I’m not your ward, I’m not yours for safekeeping. We should be equals in this relationship. Not owner and dog.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. I was never your owner, and neither did I want to be. And you’re not a dog.” I shift on my feet. “You’re much more like a cat, feral and wild.”

“Thanks for that,” she takes a sip of water before looking back at me, “I always liked cats more anyway. And I get it, you like being the protector. You like being the one to come to for help and reassurance and I just don’t need that right now.”

“Noted. Let’s get back to work and after this, I will stop trying to be your protector and start trying to be your equal, ok?” I nodded back at the paperwork as she nods at me.

Not long after that night, Rachel and I decided to call it quits. Luckily, we kept everything very close to the chest at work so no one ever asked about it. I had a terrible time trying to put the past behind me, no matter how I excelled at treating her as an equal. I wanted someone who needed me. Not someone who tolerated me. Perhaps, good things DO come to those who wait. 

I guess I’ll have to thank Faye at some point for her opinion on the matter. She didn’t like Rachel. And she made it known that Rachel was never going to be in her life if she had anything to do with it. Rachel wasn’t exactly good with kids, let alone teens. I honestly can’t even say if she tried her best. She wanted to be looked at as an authority figure, not a mother figure. That is not the way to get a teen to like you, and she never found the way into Faye’s good graces.

The way into that girl’s heart is by showing her that you care. Care about her hobbies. Care about her favorite color. Or most importantly, as a child of separated parents, show her that you care about the well-being of the two people who brought her into this world. Don’t take anything too lightly, and she’ll give you a chance.

But, Rachel failed there. And there is no relationship when your child doesn’t feel comfortable around your partner. Angie learned that the hard way with Mick or Nick or whatever his name was. But Jackson, the one she’s dating now, he’s a good man. He cares about Angie and he cares about Faye. That’s all I can ask for. All I ever would ask for.

Well, I guess there are other things I can ask for, but I will be patient about those things. My mind retreats to Kamaria calling me handsome. I was dumbfounded at the time, and now I’m incredibly flattered that I flustered her enough for her filter to malfunction in front of me. I could tell she was instantly angry with herself for letting her cards show. But I enjoyed every bit of that interaction, quick as it was. She may have felt intimidated, but she didn’t seem scared and she didn’t seem like she minded my flirting. A good thing, because I plan on flirting with her as much as she will allow me to.

Rachel gives me the cue to step in, snapping me out of my thoughts and I’m slamming the door shut to the Interrogation room before long. Walking up behind the suspect slowly, I stand to the side of him and nod for Rachel to take a break. She collects her things, leaving the case file behind after closing it. But I won’t be needing it.

I pull her empty chair out from the small metal table and act as though I will sit down, but instead choose to throw it behind me. The intended emotion is felt by the suspect. Fear. If I didn’t thrive on that fear, I wouldn’t be able to get the job done. I reach over and grab the suspect by the collar and yank him to me over the table. This is where the fun begins for me and ends for him. I hold him above the ground, speaking to him lowly but still able to be picked up by the audio recording in the room.

“Tell us where the bodies are, and this can be over for you. I’m sure the public defender can get you some type of safety while you live out the rest of your days behind bars,” I tighten my grip on his coat collar before speaking again, “Give us nothing and we’ll feed you to the dogs. You do know what happens to men like you in prison right? Men who’ve done what you’re being accused of doing? They’ll string you up, they’ll castrate you, and if you’re lucky? They’ll make sure you die from your injuries.” 

I set him on his feet and straighten his collar. I walk around him to where his chair is on its side and pick it up, nodding for him to sit down. Chancing a glance at the mirrored window behind, I motion for Rachel to re-enter. I pick up the other chair from the floor and let her sit back down. Ever the professional, Rachel opens the file again

“Now, can you tell me where the bodies are?”

The suspect wipes a hand over his face, eyes peeking up at me before nodding at Rachel. I leave the room and rejoin Commissioner Harper.

“Is it unprofessional to say I love it when you do that?” The Commissioner looks at me with genuine boyhood glee.

“Probably, but I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” I let my sly smirk show and get back to watching our suspect give Rachel the locations of the five confirmed victims. Once done, a uniformed officer comes to collect him and take him back to the holding cell. Rachel exits and comes back to the room where Harper and I are.

“He gave us everything,” Rachel hands me the file and nods, “thanks for taking over, he was making me want to rip out his fucking throat. But, try and keep The Hulk at bay next time, maybe?”

“I enjoyed it thoroughly,” Harper quips, annoying Rachel to no end.

“Understood, Rachel,” I say, not meaning it at all and she knew it, “I’ll get to work on these. Have the transcript to me later?” I hold up the file and leave the room before she can say anything else. 

Kamaria’s POV

I’m just getting up to lock my computer when I see Walter walking down the hall, his nose in a file. I head in the opposite direction to hit the bathroom before stopping by his office for a quick chat. 

I stop at the door, his attention completely on the file at this point, and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, stranger,” I say, walking in and sitting in one of the chairs across from him. I notice without his coat on, he opted for an oceanic blue sweater today that hugs his biceps which seem even bigger than they did on Friday when I touched them for all of about three seconds.

Without looking up, he smiles and jokes, “I will only be answering to ‘handsome stranger’ from now on, thank you very much.” He finally looks up and I notice his eyes in the sunlight coming through the window, “How’s your first day going?”

“Ha ha, good one. It’s going quite well. I met a lot of nice people. I was taught how to get Spotify on my computer and how to get free snacks from the vending machine at the end of hall. And a couple of the girls are taking me out to lunch.” I guess that could be something friendly, right?

“Oh, they’re gonna grill you. I’ve seen them all go out to lunch a lot. They’re a close-knit bunch but they are also very territorial if they think you’re in a dangerous situation so make sure you play nice.” His tone, although joking, actually sounds serious. Almost like he is encouraging me to make friends with my coworkers, and I like that. I’m sure Yada would be high-fiving him right about now.

“I’ll keep that in mind, handsome stranger,” I chance a wink and him and there is that blush back on his face, “Well before they come to look for me, I better get back. I do wanna make sure I get all the hot gossip and find out where the best places for lunch are.”

“Enjoy your lunch, Kam. If anyone mentions going to Mitch’s Steak Shop, get the cheesesteak. You won’t regret it. I promise,” He smiles and goes to pick up the file again before looking back up at me as I get up to leave, “Actually, I did have something to ask you, if you don’t mind?”

He has a pensive look on his face so I sit back down and nod at him to ask.

“I started calling you Kam without your permission. And I, rather belatedly, would like to say if you don’t like that, I can go back to using your full name. It’s a lovely name, after all. And I would hate for you to feel like I’m getting too personal in calling you something that you didn’t ask to be called.”

“No, it’s fine. I actually used to go by Kam all the time. I haven’t used the nickname in a while and I’m not ashamed to say I missed it. So, please, call me Kam. I like it.” The smile on his face could light up the darkest of nights.

“Phew, good. I spent most of the day feeling like a complete tit. I swear I know better than to call a woman out of her name, but I just felt it in the moment and went with it.” He runs a hand through those curls, and I wanna follow that hand with my own. 

“Don’t sweat it, it made me smile,” Just then my stomach grumbles and I remember I was supposed to be going to lunch, “Ok, it’s food time. I’ll see you later, k?” I raise up from the chair and play with one of my butterfly locs, putting it behind my ear.

“Sounds great, I’ll see you later, Kam.” We share a smile and he returns to his file as I walk out of his office.

I head back to my desk and notice the group at the front door is waiting for me. I scurry up to them and apologize for keeping them waiting. They all just smile and tell me that we are walking to Mitch’s. I guess I get to try the cheesesteak sooner than I thought.

Walter’s POV

The rest of the day moves pretty fast. Rachel has the transcript sent to me with enough time to go over it and plan the search teams. The bodies are located within about a five-mile radius. The teams will go out in the morning. The faster we can recover the bodies, the faster we can get these families closure on their loved ones. And that is what matters most of all.

Before I know it, it’s ten after five and I can hear the cleaning crew vacuuming down the hallway. It has been an interesting day for sure. The thrill of flirting with Kamaria, the excitement of an interrogation gone well, and leaving before the sun is all the way down? A splendid day indeed.

Putting on my jacket, I put my work away and lock it in my desk drawer. I turn off the lights in my office and close the door before turning around to see Kamaria putting on her coat. I walk up to her and offer to walk her out. She accepts and we start the short walk to our cars, taking our time.

“So, how was the rest of your day? Did you get all the hot gossip you could handle?” I ask, chuckling as she rolls her eyes.

“You’ll be happy to know I got absolutely nothing. Either there is no gossip or they’re still trying to figure out if I’m worth keeping their secrets. I understand it. But I did have a great conversation with two nice girls, Nina and Sophie. They’re hilarious. We exchanged numbers and I think they actually think I’m cool.” She rambles out, so excited that she made some friends. How is she so surprised someone thinks she’s cool? She’s amazing.

“Ah yes, the twins. They are nice. And they actually finish each other’s-”

“Sandwiches?”

“Oh my god, did you just quote Frozen to me?” I stop walking and look at her, not even trying to hold in my laughter.

“I took a chance that you might have seen it, thought Faye may have made you watch it. The music in that movie is too good for adults to not enjoy it too. And Olaf? He was so sweet!” Her face lights up remembering the children’s film.

“Olaf was great, I’ll give you that. But I loved Kristoff and Sven more. As a kid, when I found out reindeer were real, I couldn’t believe it. I actually asked her to get me one as a pet.” I can still remember my Mom informing me that instead of a reindeer, we could get a dog. I was upset about the reindeer, but I loved that dog.

I realize we’ve made it to the parking lot and are both leaning on our cars, but making no move to get in and leave. In a second of bravado, I try my luck.

“So I feel like I’m not imagining that we have some chemistry here. Or is my head in the clouds?” I remark, watching Kamaria’s smile widen even more.

“Definitely not imagining it.”

“Would I be too forward in asking for your number? I completely understand if that’s, like, awkward or something.” I shove my hands in my pockets, intentionally running my fingers over my phone.

“That depends. If I give you my number, that means I want to hear from you. If you give me your number, I expect that to mean the same. I ask for clear communication. And if you ever need space, don’t ghost me or just go radio silent. Tell me so that I don’t waste my time, or worse yet, worry. Is that something you can do?” She takes on a serious tone, and I can tell this is something that she needs from me and that she probably hasn’t gotten in the past. Clearly set boundaries.

I take her manicured hand and place it over my heart so she can feel my even heartbeat when I answer her. I hold her hand there, her baby pink nails digging in, and say, “You have my word that I will not only call you and text you, but I will let you know when my attention needs to be elsewhere. And when I can talk again, I will let you know as well.” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand and she honest-to-goodness giggles like some fair maiden in a storybook. 

I let her hand go and she reaches into her pocket and grabs her phone, unlocking it before handing it to me. She then holds out her hand, palm up, to take my phone. I unlock my phone with my other hand and hand it to her. The light of my phone illuminates her face as she enters her information and I try not to stare for too long. I fill in my number and my full name because she might know another Walter. 

Then feeling another spark of bravado, I hit the ‘Add Photo’ button and use the front-facing camera to take a quick selfie. I save my contact and hand her back her phone. She copies me and goes to take a selfie as well. But before I can tell what she is doing, she is standing next to me and taking a picture of us together. She saves the photo and then calls me so I can see the photo. My phone lights up and I see our faces, myself smiling down at her as she faces the camera. I can’t hide the smile on my face, and I wouldn’t dream of keeping that from her. She caused it after all. 

“Ok, let’s get you out of the cold. Let me know when you get home safe?” I say, opening her car door for her to get in.

“Yes, Sir.” A low growl escapes my throat at that. Thank God, she was turned around, getting in the car because those words were almost too much for me not to want to turn her around and kiss the words right out of her mouth. I close the door behind her and step back.

She waves goodbye and I wave back, turning to get into my truck. I turn the key in the ignition and adjust my tightening jeans. I watch as she pulls out of the parking space and drives past me before I start to move the car. I notice she goes the opposite direction that I do and I watch her car in the rearview mirror until it’s no longer in sight.

The drive home is filled with me grinning to myself and thinking about all the little moments of the day. Kamaria. Kam. I can still feel her hand on my chest. I can still smell that fresh and sweet fragrance that lingers on her skin. I can still hear her sonorous laugh. If I could, I would burn that sound into my mind so I could hear it whenever I wanted.

I make it home, walking in the door before my phone dings. I hang up my coat and leave my shoes at the door. I smile, looking at the phone screen, knowing what to expect.

Kam: Made it home safe and sound 😁you home yet??

Me: Just walked in the door

Me: What’s for dinner?

Kam: Since I had a cheesesteak for lunch, I’ll be having a salad haha

Me: You had Mitch’s then, did you enjoy it?

Kam: Your recommendation was excellent! And the kettle chips? So damn tasty

“I bet you’re damn tasty,” I mutter to myself, quicker than I can stop it from escaping.

Me: I could write a sonnet regarding those kettle chips

Kam: I hope you know that means you’ll be reading that to me

Me: As you wish, Princess

Kam: And he quotes Princess Bride??? 

Kam: Ok, I’m gonna get off the phone before I start sweating 😥

Me: And I would just hate to see that 😉

Kam: Ha. Ha. Goodnight Walter 😴

Me: Goodnight Kam

I sit my phone down on the kitchen table and go to rummage in the fridge for dinner, hearing my phone ding again. I reach over and pick it up.

Kam: By the way…

Me: Yes?

Kam: I like it when you growl 🥺

Fuck.

Me: Eat your dinner and enjoy your night, Princess

Kam: Yes, Sir 

I grab a beer from the fridge, and adjust my jeans again, willing myself to maintain control and not shove my hand inside. Then that nagging little voice peeks around a corner in my brain. Was I moving a bit too fast giving her a pet name? That might be too much. And this time, she saves me.

Kam: And yes, I do like to be called Princess so DO NOT think otherwise.

Kam: I can hear your brain gears turning from here

Me: Good to know Princess 

Me: See you tomorrow

Kam: See you tomorrow 

Guess I’m gonna beat this dick like it owes me money.

Chapter 3

**Tag List**

Henry Fanfiction: @enchantedbytomandhenry

Bright Like The Moon: @geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @liveoncoffeeandflowersss  

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

[catinasink]

can you give me all the entries pleasw

ofc

ENTRY 00000000000000000000000000000000000oO0: Why Can’t I Remember?

Why can’t I remember? My brain feels fuzzy. This sword is heavy. I could just lie down here. Close my eyes… and rest…

ENTRY 1: A Door to Another World

Where am I? I stepped through the door and now I’m standing in a void? What is this place…?

ENTRY 8: Where Am I?

This place is strange. These islands float in what seems to be an endless void, and the laws of gravity do not apply in the way I know them to, if at all. And the beings that inhabit this strange realm... I must find a way to escape this place.

-OS

Entry 27

There is, SOMETHING out there, looking for me, i don't know what it is.

I can't get this damn mask off, and my arm isn't mending. Fuck, my shirt is covered in blood. What I wouldn't give for a warm bath right now... I fear for my safety, this place is strange, the laws of my world don't seem to apply here. and I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm being watched.

There's some sort of obelisk a couple islands down, I'll start out for it in the morning, not that one can keep track of time in this cursed place…

-OS

ENTRY 30: Home Sweet Home

I found some sort of house at the foot of the obelisk, I'm sitting inside of it as I write this. Well, at least I have some shelter. My face feels weird, some kind of pressure behind my eyes, and my arm is getting worse. There're some sort of veins spreading up my bicep, and it hurts like a fucking bitch. What the fuck was in that spine?

Entry 34: Bells?

I hear chimes ringing, first non-natural sound I've heard in weeks. This building is fucking huge, gives me steampunk vibes.

Ugh, my head hurts, my arm is chalky, black and dusty. It feels like coal. I can barely write.

-OS

Entry 51: Bodies

Oh my gods, I'm gonna throw up.

They- they're- they're BODIES. Rancid, decaying, maggot infested corpses. They just showed up overnight, and they're standing there. Fucking empty eye sockets and rotted grins. It's disgusting. And the smell, I'm gonna be sick.

Entry 54: Ashes to Ashes

My arm is... Chalky, crumbly. It feels like sand.

The bodies are still there. They haven't moved. Why did I ever open that damn door...

ENTRY 68: Whispers in the WInd

The bodies are gone. They just disappeared. I looked away for 2 seconds and they were gone. Freaky.

This place isn't safe anymore. That- That THING is here. It knows where I am. I'm leaving. There's some sort of airship at the top of the mountain, I'll depart at glimmer's fade.

There are voices, too. Almost inaudible whispers, drifting on the wind.

When you see it, it sees you too.

When you hear it, it hears you too.

When you feel it, it touches you.

When it calls you, it has you.

When you feed it.

IT CLAIMS YOU.

ENTRY 78: Watcher

It followed me. I thought- I thought I got away but I didn't. It was just playing with me.

This damn mask.

My arm is doing weird things. Shifting and changing forms. It almost looks like charcoal sculpting. I don't know what's happening to me.

I know it's there. It always has been. You're there too, aren't you? I know you are. Don't lie to me. I see you. I always have seen you.

ENTRY 79: It Found Me

*unlike most of the recovered documentation, this entry is recorded on an old camcorder, the tape and camcorder are splattered in blood and a thick, inky substance*

It found me. It fucking found me. The long pale arms, it reached out and it- *makes strangling gesture* It was some sort of fucking demon. Fucking hell. It cut me, it fucking cut me!

*unintelligible mutterings, before subject shows themselves on camera. they are covered in blood and the same inky substance as before, a bright red overcoat covers their body, and a shield-shaped mask covers their face. their arm shows the decay described in previous entries.*

This place is hell. I've died and now I'm in fucking hell! Monsters, upside down bridges, and now a fucking cryptid chasing me around!?!?! What the fuck!?!?!

I need to get out of here.

*subject steps towards the camcorder, reaching out to turn it off, the last frames of video show the subject drawing a hunting knife from their overcoat*

ENTRY 92: Fuck That Box

Fuck that box.

There was fucking teeth. HUMAN TEETH. And a heart. Beating. Fucking pulsing and throbbing. There were HUNDREDS of them. The whole floor. Fuck. I should never have come here.

Where's the fucking booze.

@eternal-nyxx @shrimpysstuff

[cheemken]

KNIGHT-

I re-read some of the Villain Iris AU posts and yeah, Drayton would be DEVASTATED when watching the live stream

Like imagine he’s at home with either his parents or he’s with Drayden at the moment, just trying to stay warm from the ice Kyurem and Iris had placed across the region. He has no idea what to do or what to think, the figure who had terrorized the region, thrown Ghetsis to his death, ruined the ecosystem, made living in Unova actual hell, just revealed themself to be his older sister

And she looks different from how she presents herself in front of him, she looks tired, insane. And when he’s around she looks normal, stressed maybe, but always normal like she wasn’t trying to worry him

Imagine if after the livestream was over, Iris went to find Drayton to invite him to live in Team Plasmas castle with her. He was one of the few people who actually cared for her and looked up to her like she was a hero

And she was his hero

But she just can’t let Drayton live in Opelucid City where there’s barely any food left for the survivors, where it’s freezing cold both outside and inside every building. She wanted her adoring brother to be somewhere safe when she continued to force the region into submission. She wasn’t going to hurt one of the people who cared for her

Last thing but I would think that one of Iris’ goals would be to murder both Hilda and Hilbert. They might’ve been her friends but that was before the voices of Unova got to her, now all she sees is competition she was to be rid off

If the twins are gone, then no one can stop Kyurem from fusing with both Reshiram and Zekrom

And everyone will see Iris as the Hero she always was. As the God she will be

Also I am trying to make this coherent as possible but I’ve only gotten 5 hours of sleep last night and it’s almost 2:00 am rn.

Dude right😭😭 but ough this is giving me villain Diantha vibes now like the og one w her just wanting to keep Augustine safe lmfaooo

Oh this is fucked up man this is so fucked up imagine how that must've went tho, how she's there trying to convince him to stay with her, I imagine it's like,, set after her fight w Hilda, like the one where Hilda broke her nose cause she punched her, imagine that. Iris telling the Shadow Triad to get Drayton for her, ofc, she wants to keep her brother safe too, he always adored her, always looked up to her, saw her as a hero even before she got Kyurem, why would she abandon him the same way everyone else abandoned her?

When the Shadow Triad returned, Drayton in hand, he was trembling as he staggered back, reaching out for his Archaludon's pokeball, only for it to not be there, seeing his pokemon at the hands of the Shadow Triad. And finally he sees Iris standing before him, Kyurem looming behind her, casting a shadow over them, making Iris' crimson eyes glow an ominous light. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as Iris was kneeling before him, the Shadow Triad disappearing. And ofc he expected the worst, Iris was covered in blood, the blood from her nose smeared all over her mouth, her jaw, even on her gloves. Removing her gloves, she reaches out to him, making him flinch as he felt her hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

Looking up at her again, he sees her smile, but god it wasn't the same one he's so used to seeing, this one feels twisted, sordid, it didn't feel right, her fangs were bared, as she said, "I'm glad you're safe, Drayton." And god he fucking hates it absolutely hates it how the one looking so adoringly at him isn't the same sister who used to tell him stories when they were younger, who gave him piggyback rides, who always believed he can achieve so many things despite his laziness; no, this wasn't his sister, this was a monster mimicking his sister, and god did he hate it, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happens to you."

Imagine her pulling him up to a hug tho, he can smell the blood on her, it made his stomach churn. Then she's there smiling again, god he doesn't wanna look at her anymore. "I can't just let you live here with grandpa, you know how he is, plus..." She looks down from the Frigate, looking at the state Opelucid is in, "do you really wanna live in this frozen death trap?" She then turns to him, "in the castle, you can have all the food you want, it's warm there too," she said, pulling him to her side. "You don't have to worry about going to school, not like you cared about it in the first place, right?" She laughed at that, Drayton just wants to run away from her

But can you imagine tho Drayton finally confronting her abt shit, why she became like that, she was a great Champion, she was his hero, everyone loved her. Then suddenly Iris' demeanour changed, she was almost glaring at him, staring right through him, almost piercing. Her voice was cold, bitter cold, "don't be naive, Drayton." She spat out, "do you honestly think they'd tell you they hate me right at your face?" Taking a step forward, he took a step back, "do you really think they'd tell you how much they hate me?" He took another step back, "do you really think that I don't hear about the way they wanted Hilbert to be the Champion, how much they looked down on me, how much they wanted me to lose?" His back had hit the edge of the Frigate, "do you really think I don't know how much this region hates me?"

Drayton tried to tell her that not everyone hates her, they shouldn't, she's doing everything for this region, then she just laughs as she shakes her head, pulling him to a hug again. God he hates the smell of blood. "You should know better, Drayton." Her voice was but a whisper, "you should know, our family looked down on you too," her grip turned tight, "I heard everything they said about you. How you can never be at their level. Can never be a Dragon Master." And she's there stroking his hair, "even when you became Champion of the academy, they didn't care." Then she pulled away, looking at him like how she looked back then, so softly, like the sister he once knew, "but I cared. Grandpa may never be proud of you, but I am."

And just hcmxbxn y'know Iris just low-key manipulating him, snapping her fingers and suddenly the Shadow Triad showed up again, handing over Drayton's pokemon, as she tells them to lead Drayton to the quarters, to let him rest for a bit, to give him food, as Iris herself will plan her next attack. Ofc, the twins being her next target. She already has Zekrom with her, already fused with Kyurem. Now she only needs Reshiram, and soon she'll have the Original Dragon by her side, submitting to her commands.

Soon, she'll show them just who the God of Fate truly is.

[junseoing]

i think I have chosen the worst possible time to get into up10 but would you mind telling my your favorite of their songs and maybe something about each member? only if you want to ofc!

px101 era was worse

I would love to tell you about the up10 men!!! Literally you did not ask for a full on 5 page guide but im making it anyway!!

SO. YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT UP10TION? (a guide)

Members (age order):

Kuhn (leader/rapper) - gives off dad energy. Has a very attractive singing voice!! Listen to some CoolFM karaoke to hear him sing!

Jinhoo (leader/vocal) - has pretty lips! Takes on team mom position. TOP media put him on hiatus on April 7, 2020 and then sent him to the armed forces, he has not been seen or mentioned since. TOP media will not tell us where he is. I miss him.

UPDATE: Jinhoo signs of life. He has a personal Instagram.

Kogyeol/Ian (vocal) - gives off church crush/princely vibes. Has an interior design business for some reason??

Jinhyuk (high-tone rapper) - furry. weeb. gamer. Likes skinship a lot. He's doing solo stuff ever since px101...it's okay. He's not a very good vocalist 😭 Top Media put him back in the group NOW.

Bitto (low-tone rapper/main dancer) - cute. He seems quiet in interviews but he can be VERY chaotic. The master of girl group choreo + ultimate fanboy.

Wooseok (vocal/visual) - just a guy. He is kind of a quiet troublemaker type, and has a devilish streak. He has been doing solo stuff since px101. I like his solo stuff. But Top Media PLEASE PUT HIM BACK.

Sunyoul (vocal) - he has a WIDE vocal range. Well known for performing on masked singer and having everyone think he was a girl. Has done boy/girl duets by himself. Appears sweet but...he will not hesitate if you annoy him. Other mom figure.

Gyujin (lead dancer/vocal) - eyebrows!! He is babygirl and poses as such in pictures...very silly guy. They never give him lines and always try to cover him up in big coats. :(

Hwanhee (vocal) - LOUD. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE HOW LOUD HE IS. Often compared to Baekhyun in terms of looks and voice. Whiney and loveable. In Boys Planet rn

Xiao/Dongyeol (lead dancer/vocal) - #1 taemint. Hanse from VICTON's bestie. Mischevious and attached to hwanhee. In Boys Planet rn.

Songs/MVs (divided by album):

Top Secret - 1st Mini

Title: SO, DANGEROUS

Choreo is very cool! Will get stuck in your head!

Other fav songs on the album: Phoenix, Never Ending

BRAVO! - 2nd mini

Title: Catch me!

Silly MV (affectionate) with aged styling, but a very catchy song

Other favs on the album: call me, Holic

SPOTLIGHT - 3rd mini

Title: Attention

Should have won so many awards.

Other favs: Stay, I wish a miracle, Cherish (Sunyoul ft. Yuju from Gfriend!!)

Summer Go! - 4th mini

Title: Tonight

WOW! I can't believe UP10TION invented summer with this song and album!! (I love her dearly)

Other songs: Beautiful, OASIS, MAGIC

BURST - 5th mini

Title: White Night

Up10 does a story MV!! Ft hockey and Somi

(This song makes me go feral)

Other favs: Because, Stuck On You, Just Like That

ID - 1st Japanese release

Title: ID

Please don't skip their Japanese releases, they are some of their best songs.

Other favs: Stand up, The World is Waiting

STAR;DOM - 6th mini (no Wooseok)

Title: Runner

Other favs: Everything, True Love, Hot Blood

UP10TION 2017 Special Photo Edition (no Wooseok)

Title: Going Crazy

Wild Love - 2nd Japanese release (no Wooseok)

Title: WILD LOVE

Other favs: Sign Me Up, FEEL SO RIGHT!

Invitation - 1st full album!

Title: CANDYLAND

Era where i became a honey10 so I know this album like no one else

Other favs: Mixed signals, Always, Superstar, Love sick

Chaser - 3rd Japanese release

Title: CHASER

This album has my favorite b-side...lose myself supremecy

Other favs: BIG WAVE, LOSE MYSELF

UP10TION 2018 Special Photo Edition

Title: So Beautiful

tour footage makes me jealous. Anyway.

Laberinto - 7th mini

Title: Blue Rose

widely regarded by the three honey10s on this site as their worst album. It's mid.

Other favs: Burning, Midnight,

The Moment of Illusion - 8th mini (no Wooseok or Jinhyuk)

Title: Your Gravity

Honestly not my favorite, but i appreciate her.

Other favs: Skyway, Lover

Light Up - 9th mini (no Wooseok, Jinhyuk, or Jinhoo)

Title: Light

I miss jinhoo. They start making really good albums again from this point on.

Other favs: Destiny, Dawn, Empty House

Connection - 2nd full album (no jinhyuk, wooseok, jinhoo)

Title: SPIN OFF

SPAN ABSOLUTE OFF. Literally The ALBUM™

Other favs: Liar, Parade, Destroyed, Forever, Believe in you

Novella - 10th mini (no jinhyuk, wooseok jinhoo)

Title: Crazy About You

VOCALS!! VERY GOOD album

Other favs: Give Love, PANDORA, Incredible,

Code Name: Arrow - 11th mini (no jinhyuk, wooseok, jinhoo)

Title: What If Love

puts you on the spot.

Other favs: Angel, Flash, Rewind

🍯🍯🍯

[regentbison]

before we begin, some warnings. captivity, physical torture, hostages, experimentation, mental torture, depression and anxiety and all the other fun shit that comes with those things

Lydia and Beetlejuice are two separate beings who don’t know each other. bj is a demonic, ghost, dead, ageless, whatever with all the usual powers we’re used to him having. While Lydia is similar, she’s a sort of demonic entity but she isn’t dead like he is. How she came to be and where she came from is unknown, the people at the lab aren’t even sure who captured her, how she got there, or how she’s even still contained. (It’s sort of the same with bj but they know that whoever captured him has something over his head to make sure he’s kept in line). her powers aren’t the same as Beetlejuice’s though, while he’s more physical she’s more psychological. She’s a sort of empath, telepath, has telekinesis kind of being while bj is - change reality, make clones, bring things into creation but in a very demonic way, extra limbs, (alchemist kinda shit maybe). 

Anyways, they’re being kept at an extremely hidden lab, think scp foundation kind of vibes. There’s others kept there ofc, but they’re the most invaluable, the only known ones of their kind. Adam and Barbara are their keepers/handlers/doctors. But the two aren't aware of what is actually being done to their ‘patients’. They’re under the impression that this is a sort of top secret hospital for special beings. They’re never taken down to the lower levels so they don’t even have the chance to see what this place actually is, while BJ and Lydia aren't exactly talkative. No one’s even sure if they can speak. Never mind in a human tongue. Barbara and Adam just kind of assume they don’t speak English and are extremely wary of humans. So they sort of speak to and treat them the same way a good vet would treat a terrified kitten.  

now onto Charles and Delia. Delia is the “therapist” of the place. But you know how she is, she’s not exactly a “stand up for herself and others and refuse to do something she doesn’t want to do” kind of person, this trait of hers has gotten her mixed up in some very messy situations. So she just gets her orders and does them. Very scared of the people she sort of psychologically torturing and trying to get info out of but even more scared of the consequences for what would happen if she didn’t execute her orders. Charles is one of the scientists. I’m going to be taking one out of @wizisbored​‘s book for this one. He’s not really someone who has his moral priorities in order. No one but the people at the top know this, but he’s actually the one who brought Lydia in. There’s rumors that his relationship with Lydia goes deeper than just scientist and experiment, along with some other seemingly absurd rumors, like him being her father.

In reality, his wife found this extremely lost and confused, seemingly fifteen year old girl covered in dirt, blood, cuts, bruises, and soaking wet in an ally one rainy day, and decided that they’re taking her in. Charles was always just there in the background while Emily did her thing. Never knowing what to think of Lydia or how to act around her. It didn’t take long for them to figure out Lydia isn’t aging at all or to see the small horns protruding from her skull once her hair was washed and all the matts were cut. But Emily and her had already bonded by that time. It was obvious that Emily thought of her as a daughter and you wouldn’t even be able to pry Lydia from her cold dead hands.  

when Emily got really sick fifteen years later. Both Lydia and Charles were absolutely distraught. With all her powers, there was nothing Lydia could do. The top of the foundation Charles was working at (read: Juno) approached him one day and convinced him that this was all Lydia’s fault. That her living with them had somehow infected Emily and was making her sick. She convinced Charles to bring Lydia there, where she would be far away from Emily and would still be “taken care of”. Charles did exactly that and it wasn’t long before he was shown the true nature of the foundation. He didn’t back down though, he didn’t try to get Lydia out. He thought himself in too deep and only buried himself even deeper.  

Lydia and BJ only became aware of one another around the four month mark of Lydia being there had passed. It wasn’t even an actual encounter, they only got glimpses of the other when each one was being “escorted” somewhere. But even during those few seconds, they locked eyes and a sort of connection was formed. Not a “god we’re both in the same shitty situation aren’t we?” kind of connection, an actual honest half telepathic kind of connection. It took them a while to figure out how to work it, but they found themselves able to send picture flashes and even bursts of feelings sometimes. They don’t know what caused it, but their hypothesis is that it was Lydia. She was nearing a complete breaking point at the time, almost going insane and subconsciously reaching out with her mind for anything that might help her stay sane. But Lydia doesn’t have any memories from the time before she showed up at the human realm, she just remembers muffled shouts, pain, and then falling through a portal, only to be found by Emily a months or so later. and Beetlejuice was an outcast demon, never being told or explained anything, he’s never even heard of any beings other than demons and ghosts. Somehow finding himself in this place years before lydia showed up.

now, I’m a good person (ha!) so I’ll give you a kind of happy ending. Emily somehow managed to recover. No one had any idea what she even had, not even the best specialists, but at some point around the yearly mark of Lydia getting put at the foundation (a year and a half or so of being sick), she mysteriously started getting better. 

ah but I just have to give this a social media twist. It’s no fun without some outside pov and conspiracy theories. Like I said earlier, think of this like the scp foundation. What’s another very big part of the scp foundation? it’s all online.  People are aware of the foundation Lydia and Beej are at (haven’t named it yet) but everyone thinks it’s “a fictional secret organization documented by the collaborative-writing” (Wikipedia). 

“Within the website's shared universe, the Foundation is responsible for capturing, containing, and studying various paranormal, supernatural, and other mysterious phenomena unexplained by science (known as "anomalies" or "SCPs"), while also keeping their existence hidden from the rest of human society.” (Wikipedia)

So there’s forums all over the internet dedicated to this foundation. people role playing, rules, and deities and everything. Beetlejuice is known as deity B and Lydia is known as deity L. No one knows the origin of the deities or really anything about them except for a few details here and there that have been leaked (who says no one from the actual foundation is “role playing”) but they’re known as the most powerful and the most mysterious. Ofc there’s conspiracy theories that this whole things is actually real and there’s people claiming they worked there in the past, but they all mysteriously disappear from the internet a little bit after or are already claiming to be people who’re presumed dead

will this be how Emily manages to learn her daughter is being kept there and where it is? Idk. Read and find out ;)  

Hello! I have a new fucked up little au that came to me from a stupid conversation about bleaching hair and the world getting a ginny vaccine with @alfurbet @karazoreswell @bright-juice22 and a few others. Stay tuned for a longass post about it