#I hope the guilt ate that man alive

[kiegotakami]

so this is maybe a little heavy but my great uncle died and I keep reading his obituary and staring at the many photos and I can’t believe the man described as “a true lover of all people and places” smiling among friends and family I’ve never met is the same one who was so cold-hearted that he has hoarded photos of my grandfather from my dad and his brothers for decades and even forgot who my dad was when they surprisingly saw each other at a funeral because my great uncle decided to cut off contact completely with the sons of his brother, who died tragically, never paying them any mind again

[starrluvs]

Hi! i wanted to request a scenario where the reader is Bi-Han's S/O but Kuai Liang and Tomas also have a crush on her...sfw or nsfw if that is okay...

𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 & 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 | 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐒/𝐎

cw: gn reader, mentions of jealousy, kuai liang/tomas overhearing naughty you and bi-han's activities in the night time, masturbation, somewhat soft bi-han, edging (if you squint), minors dni let me know if i've missed anything!

wc: 933

a/n: thanks for the ask, nonnie! i love writing for the lin kuei bros so muchhh <3 also i made it both sfw and nsfw, i hope you enjoy!

imagine being bi-hans partner while both of his little brothers secretly have a crush on you

you’ve personally never noticed kuai liang and tomas’ attraction towards you–. perhaps you were just oblivious to it? they had only ever come across to you as respectful and kind. the two of them hadn’t a clue that both of them had their own respective attraction towards you. deep down they knew their feelings for you were wrong, but any hints of guilt got washed out of their system every time they saw you– your beauty was unmatched, and they secretly envied their older brother.

imagine how careful they would be to avoid suspicion from bi-han

there had to have been a reason as to why the two brothers would preferably talk to you when the eldest of the three wasn't around… right? kuai liang would sometimes take the risk of being near you, but just act as natural as possible if bi-han was around. tomas on the other hand– you're off limits when bi-han is nearby. apart from his very rocky relationship with the eldest brother, the last thing he’d want is to be embarrassed in front of you by bi-han. regardless, neither of them wanted to know what punishment would await them if bi-han had figured out their feelings for his one and only beloved.

imagine both brothers wishing they could swap places with bi-han and have you all for themselves 

bi-han was never one for public displays of affection, especially around his fellow lin kuei warriors. he was grandmaster and he knew he had an image to uphold whenever he wasn't behind closed doors. but kuai liang and tomas were always able to catch your glances of adoration directed at bi-han and could only watch you from afar, wishing you could stare at them like that– just like they did towards you.

imagine the two younger brothers having to listen to you and bi han making love all night

with their separate rooms being connected right next to bi-han’s, kuai liang and tomas weren't new to the sounds that came out muffled through their walls during late hours of the night. having to hear your sounds of pleasure, but for another man– their older brother –was something that ate them alive with envy and jealousy.

imagine the way they would keep their ear on the walls of their own separate rooms to hear you as clear as possible 

the average person would have been annoyed by the multiple nights that consisted of your delicate moans, but that wasn’t the case with kuai liang and tomas… there were many occasions in which they couldn't help but lean in close to their wall and put their ear against it, just hoping to hear your sounds more clear and less muffled. they could both feel their cheeks heat up now that they can hear all the words, squeals and moans that escaped your lips. what they would do to have bi-han’s name replaced with theirs instead…

imagine how the two brothers would stroke their desperate cocks and try to stifle their moans and whimpers of your name

 hearing all your cries that echoed through their walls always managed to get the two younger lin kuei riled up as they felt their blood shoot straight down to their lower regions. every time you and bi-han were up to explicit acts, it always resulted in kuai liang and tomas stroking their cocks and trying to hold back their sounds with their free hand. their undergarments and sleeping robes pushed out of the way to give them easy access, leaning against the wall, knees buckled and wobbling– the intense pumping of their hands on their cocks was relentless. their efforts of being silent weren't enough with the way your name continuously rolled off their tongue.

imagine the type of fantasies they have of you while their eyes are screwed shut, chasing their own pleasure, pumping faster and faster

being able to hear you was always enough to fuel their imagination. neither of the younger lin kuei assassins stopped pleasuring themselves as they closed their eyes and imagined you in different scenarios. kauai liang could vividly picture you on your back as you moaned beneath him, whereas tomas liked to imagine you on top of him, bouncing on his cock and making those pretty sounds that were being made in the room beside his. the speed and force of their pumps only grew more and more intense by the second.

imagine the cryomancer finally allowing you to reach your climax

bi-han stayed buried inside of you while he felt you pulse around his cock. after an appropriate amount of pleading, he finally let you cum… he helped you ride out your high, resulting in you letting out trembling moans and whimpers that bounced off the walls. as you started to regain composure, bi-han captured your lips in a hot kiss, despite his cold lips. the grandmaster’s tongue dominated yours while sharing the kiss, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. you felt relieved and at complete peace with your lover so close to you.

imagine kuai liang and tomas, in both of their rooms, still clasping a hand over their mouth to muffle the sounds of their whimpers while they spill their seed all over their hand and robes/undergarments

looking down at the mess they’ve made only caused them to frown after their few moments of bliss…

how were they ever going to get over you?

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 The Remarkable Machine Who Learned How to Love

♡ featuring: toji x f!reader

♡ cw/tw: none, a little angst but a whole lot of fluff! wc: 1.6k+

notes: i was thinking about this all day and decided to whip up somethin in a couple hours. hope u like :P art by manuel_juju on twitter! comments and reblogs are appreciated!

In a kill-or-be-killed world, Toji reached the top of the food chain—unfortunately, staying at the top is a thousand times harder than the climb. And when he looked down, there was no one to catch his fall.  

Before Toji met you, he was as aimless as a speck of dust, carried endlessly by an unpredictable tide of winds. He followed the cracked and crumbled path bespoken for lost souls like himself. Destined to be nothing but a vessel, a hollow man of sturdy muscle who worked himself to the bone, filthy jobs common men wouldn’t dare consider, because who was there to stop him anyway? Was there anything left for men birthed from hopeless circumstances, raised by broken homes to turn to lives of criminality? He couldn’t find an answer. He wasn’t equipped with the empathy to understand why guilt gnawed at his conscious; why whenever he ate takeout in his dimly lit apartment, it spilled out the chasm in his chest.  

It was much easier to complete the task, to trudge to a check cashing facility to retrieve money he couldn’t care less about. Perhaps he’d walk this earth alone forever, constantly watching over his back from a fear of daggers shooting from every direction, waiting to strike at his most vulnerable. It was only a matter of time.  

Or maybe he’d allow his sins to surpass him. Accept the peaceful release of death and pay the price of a vacant funeral service.  

It was all but irreparable, until he walked into his usual convenience store and encountered the new clerk at the register. It was past midnight, and Toji placed the quick meal on the counter. When his tired eyes panned up from those frozen noodles, his heart reset, a part he thought died amidst the torment. It skipped across his ribcage, stopped until a fleeting breath pulled him back to reality, to the intense fluorescent lights and your warm welcoming smile. There wasn’t a single altercation that stole the air from his lungs the way you did.  

Life hadn’t torn you apart yet.  

Your eyes didn’t break away, unexpected, as Toji was used to people hanging their heads near him. He’s aware of his threatening stare and intimidating stature; it’s what keeps him alive. And you were unbothered. You scanned his item, and flashed those pearly whites that sent a nosedive straight to his stomach, “I’m a big fan of this brand!”  

Toji remained tight lipped, unwilling to sift through difficult emotions and experience a feeling he believed himself to be undeserving of. He nodded, and somehow you continued, “Shouldn’t eat so late, though. Messes with your stomach.” A puff of wind pushed from his nose before he could stifle it. “Are you a doctor in the daytime?” You chuckled and bagged, “Sorry, slow day.”  

He arrives the same week, searching for a couple of beers to bring back to his apartment. You were in an obviously dangerous position, with one foot off the step ladder as you attempted to push a bottle of cleaner onto the highest shelf. It was a fight between gravity, and the opponent nearly won before his hand grabbed the handle. “Oh! Thank you” you smiled. It was sunnier than the last and reopened the stitches he’d been struggling to sew since that moment.  

Toji suddenly had countless excuses to go to the convenience store. Sometimes he’d enter for a snack, and you’d discuss your favorite chips, other times he pretended to need items just to hear your voice ramble about a niche topic you knew too much about. When his heart thrummed off kilter, and his mind became consumed with thoughts of the pretty night-shift cashier, a piece of him demeaned. How embarrassing it was, to be attracted to the scripted kindness of a service worker. Toji barely recognized he had favorites, let alone desires. So why did he have such an unwavering desire to see you?  

He’d snatch a pack of noodles one day, a subconscious grin at the joining of your eyes. It didn’t matter if the twinkle in your gaze wasn’t exclusive to him; for a second, it felt like someone cared, and it was fulfillment he couldn’t shake.  

You leaned over the counter on your elbows, “Did you know there’s over 35,000 ramen noodles restaurants in Japan?”  

“I didn’t, but that sounds like a lot of options.”  

“Mhm, you should try one. The real thing is way better.”  

“I’m sure. I don’t really go out to restaurants often, so…”  

“Me neither”, there’s a lengthy pause, and you finally blurted, “maybe we could go together!”  

He was stunned. Lost for words, really. It wasn’t possible, a girl as beautiful as you who wants to be seen with a stone-cold machine in public. It had to be a prank, a fabrication by fate to taunt him. You grew an anxious smile, “Hah, sorry, I overstep-“  

“I want to.” You stiffened, and he found solace in your shared nervousness. “O-oh! Great!” 

Toji’s first date with you had been a disaster, though. He’s heavy handed by design, and it’s no different in his daily life. His strength leads to instances of clumsy behavior. He expected you to be appalled, disgusted, or at least judgmental.  

You never shunned him. When he held your hand too tight, you slightly unclasped it. He wanted to retreat, to stuff them in his pockets and remain at a safe distance. But you interlocked hands and spoke soft, “It's okay, just try not to hold so tight.”  

He swung the door open for your entry and almost shattered the glass door on the opposite wall. “I appreciate your enthusiasm” you giggled.  

He was afraid to even hug you—he might underestimate his strength and crush your sternum. Toji walked you back to your place and turned to leave. “I’ll see ya around.” Despite that, you guided his calloused hands around your waist, slinked into his broad body, and embraced him.  Every aspect of you, foreign but comforting—little breaths fanning his shirt, fingers brushing along his back, sugary perfume wafting in his nose.  

It was heaven on Earth.  

Now years have gone by, and instead of bleached walls and silence greeting him as his eyes crack open in the morning, he smells the familiar scent of pancakes, pans clattering on the stove. He waltzes into the kitchen in a hazy state and admires the aching back of his very pregnant wife. You have a hand assisting your lower back and another on the wooden spatula scrambling eggs. 

Toji dropped his past for you after the engagement.  He cashed his last check and disappeared from the underground circle without a trace. He was aware if he continued the path he was heading, the result awaiting him was six feet under. The outcome was unimportant, however, you—the image of tears streaming down your face at his poor volition, your figure keeled over his gravesite under dewy grass and wailing for his return to no avail. He couldn’t stomach it. He had to protect you and commit to the next stage of his life. He’d never tell you about his previous work. It was for the best. He’d be selfish, just this once. 

One sock is different from the other, wearing loose shorts and a random shirt sitting above your massive belly. It’s his preferred version of you. Your stomach and thighs adorned in stretch marks, shaped like tiger stripes that declare your strength through each dip and curve; It's his greatest honor. You’d take on the complications, unending exhaustion, and hormone imbalances to bless him with a child. Toji hasn’t let you lift a finger since you got pregnant, opting to handle all the household tasks, borderline subservient to the mother of his child. So, his mouth twists when he sees you up so early.  

He stands behind you, hands trailing from your upper thighs to your stomach, then the small of your back. You lean into him while he massages circles and whisper a tiny “Good morning.” 

“Ya could’ve woke me up” Toji mumbles, kissing your temple. He wraps around to the underside of your belly, mindful of his muscle, and lifts it carefully. His respect for you increases tenfold with the heavy weight on his palms. You hum a pleased noise, sudden relief from your back. He carries it and smooths his thumbs over the taut skin. 

“You’re a late sleeper, and I haven’t made breakfast in a long time.” 

“Ya don’t have to do a thing, y’know.” 

“I know. But I wanna do this for you”, and he grins. It’s quiet, standing in the warmth of your bodies, sunshine glowing through the window to cast an angelic gleam on your face.  

Then he feels an imbalance of pressure along his fingers and mild wriggling within your tummy. Toji traces the movements, seeking to play a game with his unborn child. Sometimes it scares him, to bring new life into a world that almost smothered his light.  He worries that he’ll end up on the same road as him or he won’t be a good enough father. The journey of parenthood is a long, laborious one. You’re always learning, and Toji’s still processing the basics. It’s complicated, he trips and falters; yet you’re there to support him, through thick and thin, sickness and in health.  

What was he if not for you—his pillar, his source of happiness and comfort. You’d given him everything to wish for and infinite reasons to stick around. An iron criminal, bested by no mortal, chipped away by compassion and gentle hands. 

“You can let go if it’s too heavy.” 

I can stay here forever. 

[yanderederee]

I’mHere

cw: yan!themes/mentions of murder/attempted murder/angst/little comfort at end (lowkey yan!reader? oops)

a/n: I’ve had an idea to write this for a long long time now, and only now felt the motivation to do so. Sorry I can’t help having a savior complex~

—-*depicts PreManila!Mikey

Part1 … Part2 … Part3 … Part4 … Now~

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

How long had it been since Mikey went missing, now? How many years had it been since he broke your heart, with that dark and empty look? Your Manjiro… what happened to make him look at you with those dead eyes?

All these years later, you still hadn’t found the answers to any of these questions. Even when you tried to escape the mystery of his leaving, the guilt of not knowing ate away at you. Sure, Mikey had his own issues he had to work out. He was severely messed up over the continuous misfortunes that littered his life. But you always hoped he would keep you by his side to help him find the peace he deserved.

After his disappearance, Toman did their best to look after you. Having been one of Mikey’s support systems, they respected all the effort you put into coddling him. Draken especially. Over the years, they would maintain contact with you, but never had any information to comfort your plagued conscience.

Recently, however…. Obituaries of your once friends were popping up left and right.

Murdered.

Your head spun when Draken’s funeral invitation sat in your shaking hands. Draken? Of all people, he was the strongest person you knew. Dead? Just like Mitsuya, Hakkai, Sanzu—everyone. Was there anyone left to cry to? Takemichi briefly occupied your thoughts, he was still alive, right? But he’d been out of contact for so long, would he even recognize you?

All the death and disappointment of the rotting world had taken its own toll on your mental state. All these years, it was still hard to find stable work. All your money was spend to surviving, your head just barely above water. No matter how hard you tried doing better, nothing ever got better. Not since Mikey left.

The night of Draken’s closed casket funeral came to pass, and all that remained was your sobbing self, having just made it back to your quiet home. Everything became more real all over again. Every single time you attended your old friend’s funerals, something inside you felt like it died all over again.

It wasn’t worth dragging yourself to bed. Wasn’t worth changing out of the same black dress you’ve worn so many times now. You may as well be buried in it. You were surely to be next; right? No one knew who the murderer was, but given the grudge on Toman, you had to be somewhere on the list; right?

You didn’t even care, at this point. Let them come. There wasn’t anything left to keep you connected to this damned existence anyway. Not since that day. Not without your Manjiro.

In the middle of the night, your sleep was once again interrupted with another nightmare. This was normal.

What wasn’t normal was this weird ominous feeling. Like something was watching you. Maybe it was because your window blinds were wide open. Maybe it was because of your bad habit to leaving your front door unlocked. Regardless, that fear quickly dissipated.

You had no tears left to cry, and felt numb to the events that plagued your thoughts at every waking hour. If something bad were to happen, perhaps you would welcome it.

“How pitiful…” you croaked out a humorless laugh. That was right. You didn’t care if something happened to you. Not anymore.

“You’re awake…” spoke a familiar voice. Despite your previous claim of fearing nothing, you broke out into a cold sweat at the sudden sound. There was someone in your apartment. Staring at you. It was instinctual to look around for who.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Having heard him the second time much closer now, your head snapped to the side, about ten feet away was a man. He was shorter, with long black hair and dark dress attire. The room was dark, so even while he was hard to make out, your eyes zoned in directly to the intruder’s eyes.

Your own eyes welled with tears. You knew that empty gaze anywhere. It was him, finally.

“Manjiro…” you whispered affectionately. There was no mistaking him. Weak in the knees, you still attempted to meet him in standing. What do you even say? Should you be mad, he broke in, right? You should be angry about the way he left you—everyone, without reason. Yet the only thing you felt was gratitude.

“I missed you.” You admitted. There was nothing left for you to lose, not even pride.

Mikey’s expression flinched, but only for a moment. He was always weak to your crying. His lips gaped for a second, but slipped back into a thin line. He held back words you so desperately wanted to hear.

“Never kicked that bad habit of yours, I see.”

He was talking about your unlocked door.

“You were never good at picking locks, how else would you get in?”

“Were you expecting me?”

“Hoping more than expecting.”

“You should value your life more, you know.”

“So I am next, aren’t I?”

He was once again at a loss of words. You were right, but he expected you to at least scream at him for leaving the way he did, wail about why he would commit the atrocity of murdering everyone he cared about, beg him to spare you. Anything.

Mikey stepped closer, til you were within reach. He drew out to touch your cheek, expecting you to recoil and dodge. Yet when his cold skin met with your tear stained cheeks, you all but nuzzled into his hand.

“Were you lonely?” You asked, even though you knew the answer. He had lost himself to that same loneliness a long time ago.

“I’m sorry,” you gently laid a hand over the back of his own, warming him with what little heat you had. “I should have ran after you that day. I shouldn’t have let you go so easily. I’m sorry.” You apologized again, a mournful expression taking over as your tears fell in doubles.

“I didn’t give you a choice.” He answered, slowly bringing up his other hand to lightly caress the soft skin on your neck. With one hand, he tightened his grip around your neck. “You never had a choice.”

While it became more difficult to breathe, it wasn’t impossible. He definitely had the strength to do so physically. Yet you two stood in longing eye contact.

“I’ve been as good as dead for a long time now,” you offered him a weak smile, once again leaning into his hand. “My life has been yours, ever since we first met. Do with it as you will.”

“I’m just so happy I finally get to see you again…” you desperately wished to throw your arms around him, breathe in his scent and give him all the warmth you had to offer. But the grasp on your neck kept you in place.

“Why…” Manjiro couldn’t understand. “Why don’t you feel any resentment towards me? I was the one who ruined everything back then. Even to this day, I’ve killed so many friends. Even if you hold no value for your own life, you cared about them, right? Or did they mean nothing to you?” His grip tightened, causing you to choke.

Dare you explain yourself? He was about to give you the closure you craved, either way.

“Revenge was always your thing, not mine. I’ve no use for it. Not when the only thing that now matters to me is already right in front of me…”

Mikey narrowed his gaze. “You really should value your life more.” He graveled with another squeeze, cutting off your air flow.

You didn’t struggle. “My life… is yours…” you repeated, smiling past the tears running down your face.

It made his stomach twist. Was it disgust? No, guilt. After everything, you were just equally as broken. Lonely, with no one to turn to. Just like him.

He imagined you, back in middle school. With all your passion and laughter. He remembered your embrace, the tears you shed were always on his behalf. Your selfless acts of service.

His hand around your throat squeezed even tighter, bruising the soft skin underneath, before ultimately letting you go completely.

“Mine… you say…” Manjiro sighed, hanging his head. He couldn’t do it. He thought he’d killed all the emotions he had. Thought he could leave it all behind and wipe the slate clean. But he couldn’t. Not when his heart still yearned for something. You— always you. Only you, now…

“Yours,” you affirmed hoarsely, cradling his head against your shoulder tenderly. Your beating heart sped up, so eager to have him close.

Despite all his sins, you were elated to still have him. Your Manjiro.

Again at a loss of words, Mikey sighed, allowing himself to be held. He fell slack against your arms, and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. “I still have you…” he affirmed himself, like hope still existed.

You nodded, and eased him in further. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly, combing your fingers up the nape of his neck and gently scratching his scalp. Your other hand smoothed over his back up and down.

He was real. In your arms at last.

“I’m here.”

And he believed it. He didn’t care if you were lying or manipulating him. Having been ready to end it all himself, with nothing else to live for, and neither did you.

Just two lonely souls seeking each other. This was enough. Even if he couldn’t end it tonight, he could in the future. Even if he had nothing else left to keep him attached to this rotting world, he still craved your embrace. If only for that one thing, he wanted to be alive.

To hold you; and to be held by you.

Even if nothing else mattered, you were there. And that was enough, if only for tonight.

And so, Mikey closed his eyes, and finally found the peace he’d long been searching for. If only for tonight, he slept in comfort and content. And when he woke, you would still be there, your life forfeit, and his to claim.

Life had meaning again.

Even if that meaning was just each other.

[milkb0nny]

Burgundy Leaves

Ivar The Boneless x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 3: Leaves Changing

Summary: You and your little sister decided to take a stroll through the forest to collect the colorful leaves of autumn. While you both ate some freshly made buns and played catch, you accidentally bumped into Ivar.

Note: Okay... I'm fangirling. This one kinda hit me a little harder than it should. It's so wholesome.

Warnings: none

word count: 999

With the arrival of the cooler season autumn, the leaves slowly turned from a bright green to a sensation of colors. The dense, towering trees of the forest beckoned, their leaves glowing with the fiery hues of autumn. It was a world of vibrant reds, golds and oranges - a symphony of colors that enchanted your senses. This was the kind of season where you felt most alive, and the beauty of the forest had always been your refuge.

Whenever the temperatures dropped the people in Kattegat knew to prepare for winter, equipping themselves with wood, blankets and a food storage. Although the colder season might not be everyone’s favorite, you quite liked it. You had a younger sister, named Ingrid, who also waited for autumn every single year. Therefore, the day you noticed the significant change in the leaves, you took her by her hand and dragged her into the town of Kattegat. Before you made your way into the forest, you stopped by a small stall. You knew the owner of the shop quite well because you had been buying freshly baked buns every other day. After putting the still steaming baking goods in your picnic basket, you and your sibling started your journey.

While you entered the nearby forest, the sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, creating a mosaic of light and shadow on the forest floor. The rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the chorus provided a soothing function.

Your sister ran free, catching falling leaves, collecting the most beautiful artworks by nature and eating snacks out of the picnic basket here and there. A bright smile covered your lips while you watched Ingrid being a happy child.

“Can we play catch, y/n?” She asked you, her eyes flickering in hope.

You answered, “Sure, I’ll count to ten and then I’ll come get you!”

The loud giggles emerged from your younger sister, as her feet made their way through the familiar collection of trees. Shortly after you reached the number ten, you began to run after her.

Suddenly, you trip over a thick branch as you ran around the corner. Though, your lovable face did not hit the hard ground.

With a soft gasp, you stumbled backward as you made contact with Ivar's firm, armored chest. The surprise was mirrored in his cobalt blue eyes as you looked up, a sudden rush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Y/n!” Ingrid screamed, speeding back to you immediately. “Did you hurt yourself?”

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly.

“I'm so sorry," you stammered, glancing at the tall man, your voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't see you coming. Are you alright, Ivar?"

You felt his icy eyes inspecting every single inch of you, thus made you flush. In all secrecy you owned a soft spot for Ivar. Of course you weren’t in a very deep relationship, but from time to time you helped him, accompanied him or cooked him dinner, whenever he didn’t want to eat with his own family.

“It appears we were both lost in our own little worlds," he replied, smiling softly.

Your sister, confused about the romantic tension between the both of you, distracted herself with collecting more leaves. Ivar studied Ingrid for a moment, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his lips.

“You are collecting leaves? A simple yet beautiful pursuit." Ivar grinned at your sister, who picked out a beautiful red maple leaf. She turned around and gifted it to Ivar, expressing her appreciation. Your heart warmed up at that sight, since he was so gentle with your little sister.

Ingrid’s high voice chimed in with enthusiasm, "Would you like to join us, Ivar? I’ll make you your own crown out of red leaves!"

Ivar, usually not so fond of children, appreciated your little sister a lot. She was honest and kind, unlike many other kids who lived in Kattegat. On top of that, the Viking loved one particular person who was linked to Ingrid - you.

Ivar considered the offer for a moment before a playful glint entered his eyes.

"Very well, little Lady. I shall accompany you,” he accepted, watching her happily run off to guide Ivar and you.

As you continued to explore the forest together, you couldn't help but be captivated by Ivar's presence. Since he had learned how to walk with his crutches, his tall body always surprised you. You liked him, crawling or walking, it didn’t matter to you.

You and Ingrid led the way to the most unique spots in the forest, where the trees cast long and the colors of autumn were most resplendent. Ingrid collected leaves of rich burgundy, while you gathered those of gold and orange. Ivar watched the scene with a hint of awe in his eyes. Ivar's gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The connection between you deepened - you felt like you were the only two souls in the whole forest. Ingrid, ever the perceptive one, excused herself to give the two of you some privacy.

Ivar leaned closer, his presence filling your senses as he whispered, "Y/n, there’s something immaculate about you. I hope we won’t grow apart."

Red hues rushed over your cheeks, your fingers fidgeted with the fur of your coat and you unconsciously bit the skin of your bottom lip while you let his words swallow you whole. You barely could form a sentence under the embarrassment.

“Ivar, no. I apologize, I mean, I’ll always accompany you. Wherever you go,” you stuttered slightly, staring into the blue, vibrant eyes which formed a perfect contrast with the orange hues of autumn. As the forest whispered its melody and the leaves rustled, Ivar closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. His lips molded perfectly against yours, igniting passion that had smoldered beneath the surface.

A kiss you never forgot - your first one under the rain of changing leaves.

[alhaithamsproperty]

Hi!! Can you please write hcs about gn!wildfire!reader x Gepard. And reader is genuinely nice and playful person BUT they're so mistrustful of Gepard and Silvermane guards (and people from overworl in general) and they're kinda mean to him too but oh boy he's pining like crazy because he knows that they're a very kind and caring and brave person and he just wishes that they would tease him and smile at him because they're like that with others but not himmmm. But he's also so sexually frustrated because they have this tendency of grabbing his collar and they talk to him on a very commanding voice and he's ready to act like a damn dog for them fr

Oh MAN do i LOVE specific requests!😩 Yes yes yes I absolutely love this idea! I also included Sampo being a lil’ too flirty flirt and Gepard being a little jealous sh!t bc why not. Enjoy! 🤍

Gepard made it his new personal goal to often visit the Underworld and help people there. After all, his oath made him swear he would protect ALL the people of Belobog. He felt guilty more than ever that he did not protect half of them for a decade.

Whenever he made his way over there, he did his best to fight off monsters, help scared children (tho kids here were more likely to kick his ass than the actual monsters), provide for homeless elders. He tried his best, and never, ever did he seek gratitude or praises for it.

Well… except for maybe a warm word of “you’re doing really well” from that one person.

❄️ Gepard first met you when him and Serval met with with Oleg. He would’ve thought it would be hard enough to gain the chiefs trust, but he accepted the help of the Silvermane Guards rather quickly.

❄️ After him and his guards defeated monsters and helped a pair of kids to safety, some people could not stop singing him praises. People of the Underworld had a new hope to look toward to.

❄️ YOU did not accept his help at all, tho. He heard you rambling to Oleg and Natasha about “why do we need them here?” “we survived without them” or sometimes you’d scoff and call them snobs from the overworld.

❄️ Overall he understood rather quickly that you did not like him. You made it clear with your glares, or the shameless negative comments about what he tried to do here (you would talk shit to Oleg about him right in front of him, for fucks sake), or, in case it really wasn’t clear enough, you’d bump his shoulder on your way out.

❄️ The feelings were somewhat mutual at first, but on his second visit, he heard a group of kids giggling and laughing and was shocked enough to hear your pretty and calm voice laugh and tell them to share the candy - actually teaching the underground kids manners. His heart swallowed with warmth at that very sight. And maybe he was staring for too long, because your laughs stopped and you glared at him, and turned away.

❄️ What did he really do to you?

❄️ This question ate him alive. At first it was pride: I didn’t do anything!

Then it was guilt: Did I do anything…?

And then he settled on the fact he must have done something.

❄️ He approached you, with red ears and tugging on his collar to create some space for him to breathe properly (why was he so nervous?)

❄️ “Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you politely, and got nothing in return, “um… I might have a question to ask you.”

“I might not have time,” you said, and turned away from him again.

“No, no, please,” he ran in front of you, and you frowned when he stood way too close, and when you saw his pleading eyes you almost wanted to slap him. “It’s a quick one. Did I do something?”

“Excuse me?”

“To upset you,” he spoke, and the way he was tall and leaning over you was annoying enough, perfect prince, with his perfect blue eyes and perfect overworld life (it didn’t matter he wasn’t actually a prince, he sure as hell looked like one… and that was irritating too).

“Ah, no, don’t worry about it,” you shrugged your shoulders, and gave him a sweet smile. He almost returned it, if you didn’t continue immediately: “You know, besides living your stupid lives up there,” you pointed your finger up, and then at his chest, actually, which made him more nervous, “and leaving us to starve, and die of sickness or cold here.”

Oh. You now poked his chest, and he felt his heart rate quicken. “Don’t ask me stupid questions again.”

He stared into your eyes, pretty [eye color] shade, and a glimpse of broken emotions behind that mean, ruthless glare. He almost wanted to… nevermind. He cleared his throat, and didn’t push your finger away from his chest. “These were my orders, us guards… we never really knew—“

“Ah, you guards and your orders. Following every single word of that bitch blindly.” You scoffed and poked him again, it actually almost hurt. Or maybe it was something inside that hurt him, he wasn’t sure.

“Don’t speak of Madam Cocolia that way, she—“

He didn’t get to finish, you grabbed his collar and pulled him inches away from your own face, finally facing him face to face, without him having the stupid adventage of being two heads taller. Suddenly he felt like he might just jump out of his body, his cheeks got hot, and his breath caught in his own throat. And he wanted you to do it again. But then he remembered you were actually angry with him, and not having butterflies flying around in your stomach… like he did.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Ever.” Your voice got low, threatening. His eye trailed down your body and saw the two daggers tugged behind your belt. The way he stared at your weapons got you even more worked up, so you tugged on the collar to pull him closer, “got it?!”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, and swallowed hard.

❄️ Gepard was screwed. He liked you. And you hated him.

❄️ He was quick enough to notice you didn’t hate anyone else, tho. Hook? That little brat that called Natasha an “old witch”? No problem at all. You played hide and seek with her the entire afternoon. Anyone that stopped by Natashas clinic to ask for medicine or to complain about some painful spot on their body? You smiled at them, and chatted about how things were going back at their home. You were sneaking candy to kids and greeting almost anyone on the street, giving them a wave and a warm smile. And the second a Silvermane guard appeared in front of you? You were ready to murder them with your eyes.

❄️ He loved it, to see you being nice, caring and protective of other people. It reminded him of his own self… well, in a way. He certainly wasn’t that murderous.

❄️ He didn’t love it to see you being overly nice to Sampo, tho. That guy caused him enough trouble already, and now, with him approaching you every morning, he wanted to put him in jail more than ever.

❄️ “Ah, my beautiful babe, shining more than ever,” Sampo sang you praises, and sneakily allowed his arm to rest on your shoulders. You gave him a laugh and hit his ribs gently with your elbow, calling him a horny ass.

❄️ Gepard felt his cheeks flush, and he looked away. Him and Oleg were just discussing something about a monster near an old couples house, but he could just not hear a single word Oleg said. Instead all he heard was “I mean, if you ever get cold at night…”

“Sampo stop being gross!”

“No, no, pretty, see these fingers?” He grabbed your hand shamelessly, and you let him. You actually let him. His thumb gently stroked your fingers. “Ah, those are cold fingers. We can’t allow that! Sampo won’t allow that. Tell you what, pretty, tonight why don’t we—“

❄️ Yeah, he got hurt pretty badly that night. His guards never, ever saw him so unfocused, so ruthless in a battle.

❄️ He breathed hard and groaned in pain when Natasha tried to clean his would. You arrived at the clinic, and she called you over to press down on his wound. Oh yeah, you had no problem with that. You pressed down hard, to remind him how stupid he was, and to be more careful next time. He groaned again.

❄️ Natasha left to get one specific medicine for him. You stood with your arms crossed and a bit of his blood on your hands. Your expression was unreadable, tho you glared down at him - as usual. When Natasha returned and you left, he’d swore he heard you say “Don’t do that next time, the kids like you.” It must have been the painkillers drugging his brain.

‼️ nsfw:

❄️ Remember that time you pulled him down by his collar and threatened his life? Yeah. That very night he kept stroking his dick hard, fast, and imagining your hand around his throat, eyes gazing deep into his soul, your hips rocking on his dick. He loved that so so so much, he wanted you to use him, to choke him, to do absolutely anything that pretty head of yours would come up with with him.

❄️ He felt guilty about it, disgusted with his own self. But then he did it the night after again, and the next night again, and again. Coming hard each time he imagined you raising his voice at him, he imagined you’d pull his hair and force him to go down on you. Gosh, he’d do anything you wanted.

❄️ He felt so guilty, in fact, that he’d get red in front of you sometimes — thinking back on all his scenarios he came up with at nights. You noticed him getting flustered, and honestly, it was mildly amusing.

❄️ One night, after a succesfull battle, you, him, Serval, Oleg, Natasha, Caelus and, unfortunately, Sampo, drank a bit in order to celebrate victory. Everyone got wasted eventually and left to go to sleep, only you, Sampo and him remaining by the table with bottles in your hands. It was a silent battle between him and Sampo to stay up longer, to stay with you alone.

Sampo, eventually lost. The guy almost crawled away wasted, and Gepard’s eyes laid down on you. Alcohol made his flusterness go away.

“What?” You scoffed, and gave a little smirk as you took another sip. “Oh, sorry, I bet all girls in the overworld beg to bounce on your dick day and night.”

Hm? Was that what you really thought? That wasn’t the case at all… not that he’d know about it.

“N—no, that’s not—“

You leaned closer to him, eyes scanning him up and down, and you took his chin in your hand, squeezing his jawlines a bit. “Oh, come on, perfect boy. They do, don’t they? They beg you to fuck them just as you keep begging to fuck me with your eyes.” You laughed, and pushed him away, and sat back in your chair.

And just like that he was sober, and speechless, and looking away.

“Hey,” you said, and traced your foot gently along his leg, up, up, and up, until you could rest it on his crotch, pushing down not so gently with your heel. He hissed, and looked at you. “Isn’t that true, perfect boy?”

❄️ You left shortly after. To just get another drink, but he thought you left completely, so he wanted to head on his way home too. But God, he could not stop thinking about you. And your hand gripping his chin. And before he realised it he was leaning against a dark alley wall, sliding his hand in his pants. He was so, so drunk, he didn’t even properly realise what he was doing.

❄️ You heard the silent slapping sounds, and the closer you got, the clearer his whimpers were: “Y/N, ah, ah, please, um,” he whimpered and begged in little whispers, his head hanging low in the dark alley, one hand resting on the wall, facing it. Other hand in his pants, making wet sounds.

❄️ You turned him around, his eyes widened in shock, he did not hear or see you come. He wanted to apologise, or to ask what were you doing there, but you gave him no chance as you pushed him on the wall, and trapped his so much taller body between you and the wall.

❄️ You kissed him, and it was messy and hungry. You kept biting his bottom lip to a point it’d get swollen, you pulled on his hair, you kept gringing on his dick through the fabric of his pants and kept groaning, while he whined and begged you.

You grabbed his shoulders and forced him to move away from the wall. You leaned on it now, pushing your own pants down. “Get on your knees, Gepard.”

And he did, immediately, without a single hesitation. And he let you pull and tug with your hands and grind your hips against his mouth until you were a crying mess.

❄️ During days you’d scoff and glare at him, and give him nasty comments and call him worthless or useless, or a guard garbage, or you’d flirt and basically promise to fuck Sampo in front of him… but at nights you’d grab his hand and lead him to an alley, or to any tent around that at least had a pillow. And you’d do absolutely anything with him, just as you wanted.

❄️ He always whimpers. Always goes on his knees first, giving you pleasure, any pleasure you ask for. He’ll do it.

❄️ Fucks you really rough from all the frustration you build up in him.

❄️ Wants your hand around his throat, even if he’s the one fucking you and making you cry and sob and whimper, you’ll be the one choking him.

❄️ Goes slow and sloppy and messy and weak whenever you allow him to cum in you. He loves it so much, and holds your hips against his with his hands, enjoying the little moments you don’t glare at him, but beg him to go deeper in you.

[navybrat817]

Finding Home

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve finds a home with you. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Fluff, brief angst, mention of trauma, mention of explicit sexual content, canon divergent, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: It has been difficult finding time to write, but I felt compelled to share something sweet for our lumberjack. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was a quiet morning when Steve realized he fell in love with you. 

The sun rays warmed his skin as they filtered in through the window, beckoning him to open his eyes. By now he would normally be out for a run before he got to work, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed today. Not when the weight of your head settled gently on his chest. Not after you soothed him through another nightmare. He didn't have them often, but he kept you up because of them.

You deserved to rest. 

And he didn't want you to leave his arms.

"Steve," you whined, burrowing your face further into his chest when he brushed the pads of his fingers up and down your back. "Still tired."

A soft smile formed on his face as he repeated the motion. "Sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. 

You tilted your head up as you opened your eyes and brought a hand to his cheek. The sleepy expression on your face was one he witnessed before, but he swore he saw into his future as you smiled. What he saw was beautiful and hopeful.

It was everything he thought he wouldn't have before. 

"You okay?" you asked.

Those were the first words you ever said to him. 

No one asked if he needed the opportunity to adjust to being in modern time after being pulled from the ice. Or if he needed the chance to process the grief of losing those closest to him. He went back into the fight without taking the time to do so. Suffering in silence was the new normal for the man out of time.

Especially when he saw the memories of his life on display at the Smithsonian. 

He asked himself time after time why he went back there. Each visit reopened a wound inside that he never let heal. Each photo, recording, and piece of memorabilia cut deep. Tears shed in his mind as everyone saw pieces of his life he never gave permission to show.

Seeing the hologram of himself holding the shield, he wasn't sure who that man was anymore.

He thought he'd feel normal again after the reversal of the snap. Bucky and Sam were back. Natasha was alive. Things were the way they were supposed to be, but the shield felt heavy in his hand. Maybe it wasn't meant for him anymore.

"I need to find myself again."

Bucky understood. He was the one who encouraged him to clear his head for however long he needed. Sam did, too. He also told him that he couldn't imagine a world without Captain America. He looked surprised when the shield was put in his hand. If anyone was worthy of it, it was Sam. Nomad suited him best.

Because he had no home to call his own anymore. 

Steve booked himself a cabin outside of the city. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to take a break from his drive, but the property he stopped at was breathtaking. The lush trees and soft breeze soothed him. He had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty. 

Guilt ate at him the longer he stood there because people needed him. Bucky and Sam said they'd call, but it didn't ease the weight on his shoulders. They were trying to adjust and he-

"You okay?"

Steve looked beside him at the sound of your voice. You stood on your cabin porch with concern etched on your face. He didn't realize he was standing so close to your porch. If you recognized him as Captain America, you didn't let it show.

The beauty of the scenery was nothing compared to the sight of you. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Am I trespassing?"

"Not unless you try to break into my place."

You both smiled. He wouldn't dare, but he did worry at the thought of you being out there alone. Unless you had someone nearby. 

The thought made him a bit jealous and he just met you.

"I really am asking though," you said, taking a step toward him. "Are you okay?" 

You were a stranger, but it felt wrong to lie at the sincerity in your eyes.

"No," he said before he could stop himself. "I don't think I am."

"Is there anything I can do?"

When was the last time someone offered him kindness with no strings attached?

He practically heard Bucky in his ear encouraging him to take a chance. 

"Could use a cup of coffee if you have any."

To his surprise, you agreed.

"Just to warn you," you looked over your shoulder as you turned toward the door. "I have an axe if you try anything funny."

You made him laugh when you winked, the first genuine laugh he could remember in years. 

You told him over coffee that you were a writer. As much as you loved the city, being away from the noise helped inspire your stories. You were easy to talk and listen to, a comforting presence in a world filled with fear and uncertainty. Even after he finished his drink, he found himself wanting to carry on a conversation. You didn't seem to be in a hurry for him to leave either. 

Bucky was proud that he asked you to meet him again. 

Natasha assured him that you had a clean background, even though he didn't ask for her to check. 

"Can't be too careful, Rogers, but she's good."

Dealing in a world of spies, it was nice to speak to someone who was honest. 

It became a routine to stop by and see you for coffee. He always did so with your permission. He noticed that you kept a couple of his favorite treats stocked up that he mentioned in passing. You paid attention, but didn't make a show of it. 

Steve never once felt invisible with you. 

He found the axe you referenced and chopped some firewood as a small thank you for your kindness. It was the least he could do and you were thankful that you didn't have to do it yourself.

"You know, Steve, with your beard and the flannel, you'd make a good looking lumberjack."

He took your words to heart. 

It was a risky job at times, but he was used to danger. The tasks put him at ease and it gave him a chance to use some of his strength. It brought him back to the memory of Clint's farm, but without the inner turmoil. 

When he told you he liked to draw, too, you smiled and encouraged him to keep doing it. You stressed that he needed a healthy outlet. The longer he was around you, the more he wanted to take his stress out on your amazing body. 

Oh, the chemistry was there from the beginning. He sensed it when he was close. The racing of your heart, your pupils dilating, and even the subtle change in your scent. He picked up on thanks to the serum.

But you were a friend first when he needed it most.

When he told you he was going on a mission, as Nomad, you didn't try to talk him out of it. You understood the need for him to keep fighting. You only asked if he could let you know he was okay. 

Everyone noticed a visible difference in him because he had someone to come home to.

"Bring me back something good?" you smiled when he returned to you. 

He almost missed when he attempted your first kiss. At the end of the day, he was still the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. And you were the one who stole his heart. He just didn't know it at the time.

People called him a hero, but you saved him. 

I think I loved you the moment I met you. 

"Steve? You okay?" you asked again, bringing him back to the present.

"I'm okay," he promised.

"I lost you for a second," you said, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. "You didn't have another nightmare and not wake me, did you?"

He hated being the cause of you not getting enough rest, but you never complained. Whether it was talking or letting him use you, you'd rather stay awake and soothe him than let him face his demons alone. While many followed his lead, very few chose to walk beside him. 

"You didn't lose me," he answered. You never would. "And no more nightmares."

Thanks to you. 

He placed his hand over yours and imagined what it would feel like to have a ring on your finger. 

In time, he'd get you the perfect ring. 

You smiled before you glanced at the clock on the end table with wide eyes. "You're missing your run," you said. 

When you attempted to sit up, he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He smirked as he recalled the first time he used his strength on you. The way you chanted his name like a prayer and worshiped him like a god, it was the closest he'd get to heaven on earth. 

"We're staying here," he said, his lips brushing against yours as he caged you in. "That's an order."

"Are you ever not bossy?" you asked as he settled between your thighs. 

"You like it when I'm a little bossy," he reminded you. It always got a reaction out of you. "So stay here."

"You know what will happen if we stay here," you smirked as you rolled your hips up, causing him to groan. Your smirk fell away as your gaze softened. "But we can spend all day in bed as long as you're okay."

Steve traced his finger along your cheek, like he was drawing you on the sketchpad you bought for him. You constantly did thoughtful things for him. Seeing you like this, with the same sincerity in your eyes as the day you met, he couldn't waste another second. 

"I love you," he whispered. 

His finger stopped at your lips when you sharply inhaled, tracing them, before he pulled it away to kiss you. If you didn't say it back, it was okay. He would wait as long as he had to. 

"I love you, too."

You breathed the words into his mouth and everything felt right. He didn't do his run or get any work done that day. You didn't get a single word written. It didn't matter because Steve was a man in love. 

And Nomad found a home.

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[cutiecusp]

All I wanted was you. PART ONE.

A Phillip Graves x Reader two part drabble, around the time of the betrayal, but not canon...

I made this part really long. It was only meant to be a one and done! I'm still super new to writing, so I'd love to know what you think.

Tw// betrayal, marriage breakdown, angst, a little toxicity, the one that got away.

...................................

He knew he fucked up when the light in your eyes faded when you looked up at him, your gaze once full of light and love, is now replaced by a cold, icy stare. You were furious.

"How could you?" You ask him, seething with anger. You step into his space, your voice soft, but deadly. You place your hands on his chest, grabbing the straps of his tactical vest and pulling him closer to you, making him see what his actions had caused. His cocky smirk was replaced by a stern look back at you, a robotic version of your once loving husband. You didn't even recognise him anymore.

"My family, my friends, my team... Soap, Ghost, Alé...." You pause, unable to look at the man you once loved. You remove your hands from him as if you had been burned, your voice unable to stop shaking as you processed what he was telling you.

"You betrayed them all, Phillip. You betrayed me." You gasp as you head towards the door, only turning to wrench off your wedding ring and watch as it bounces off the floor into the corner of the room.

Graves looks up at the door as it slams shut, the noise echoing in the otherwise quiet base.

"I did it for you, sweetheart." He says to himself.

"It's always been for you."

......................................

After driving away from your family home where you left him reeling, tears stinging your cheeks, your heart broken into pieces, you walk back to into base, your steps heavy with the weight of your husbands betrayal. You hadn't been allowed on this mission, you picked up a stray bullet in the Middle East and stayed on base at the order of your husband, Shadow Company Commander, Phillip Graves.

You had begged to come along, but Phillip saw you as a 'medical liability' and wanted you home safe, so you bit your tongue and stayed back. You hated that he treated you like you were a fragile doll, and over time, you had begun to see what he really was, a snake in the grass.

But, you simply couldnt shake the guilt riddled through you as the thought of Phillip danced through your mind. You couldn't believe he would betray you like this, turning on the team he swore to protect, turning his back on you. You at least thought he would be honour bound at protecting you.

Hearing Soap and Ghost over comms as they found each other, not knowing if the other is alive is what ate at you the most. You had become a member of the Task Force by proxy, being recruited in with Soap, but was welcomed in like you has always belonged. You had seen the team as family, but would they now see you the same?

You take a breath before knocking on Price's door.

"Enter." Came the reply.

You walked in, unable to meet your Captains gaze. Although you didn't partake in the betrayal, you felt a responsibility as it was your husband who gave the order that sent everything into chaos.

"Look at me, Sergeant." He ordered. Your gaze snaps up to his, and you hate what you see. Pain, anger, and possibly the worst of all, disappointment.

"I will ask you this once, and on your life, you had better be bloody honest with me." He pauses.

"Did you know?"

Your face pales. You stare back at him, with what you hope is a neutral face.

"Sir?" You ask cautiously.

"I said. Did. You. Know?" He repeats slowly, his voice low and dangerous.

"No, Captain. I didn't know what his plans were." You reply honestly, wringing your hands together.

"This is as much as a surprise as it is to me, as it is to you."

Captain Price stares at you, taking in every detail, and after a few painstakingly painful minutes, he stands up from the desk.

"No ring?" He taunts.

"No sir. I'm filing for divorce in the morning." You reply quickly, the discomfort and embarrassment of what Phillip is putting you through with his actions showing all over your features.

He simply nods.

"You know, I had to fight Laswell to keep you on the team?" He says bluntly. He walks around the desk so he is toe to toe with you, his broad body taking over much of the area between you both.

"She didn't want me to allow a traitor back into our team. But there's something different.. something I put my finger on when I figured you weren't 'cleared' for the mission."

"He didn't want you there as he wanted you out of the way while he buried us, he didn't want any witnesses or survivors, and as his wife and someone on our team, he saw you as a liability. One of my best soldiers and a jumped up asshole with money decided that you weren't good enough to come raised all the flags I needed. There's a difference between protecting your loved ones and hanging them for your own actions, you have never been a liability." He continues, almost reverse echoing Phillips words back to you.

You nodded, listening to your Captain.

"So I have a choice for you. You are to be taken to a safe house, as a liability to the team that he thinks you are unti lthis is cleared and you will be in court alongside him. Or..."

"Or? Sir?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"You come with me and the 141 and we end him. For good."

You take a step back, and gather your thoughts. Your ex husband wouldn't have even hesitated, so why should you.

"I'm in, Sir. " You clarify, holding your head high.

"I only have one condition."

Price nods, encouraging you to speak.

"I get the first punch in." You demand, a glimmer of defiance and strength in your eyes.

"I am not a liability."

*a/n I really worried about the length of this one, so I am breaking it into two parts. What do you all think? It went a weird way so part two will clear things up? Nervous as hell as always.*

@going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @xoxunhinged @misshugs

[fisshindasea]

—almost there—

"you have always waited. kept your patience as strong as your hope that everyday your husband, kento, would come home just as easily as he had breathed. you hung on to his very words, ones he'd whisper to you every time he'd slip past the doors—"ill be home soon."— oh how could he break a promise to you so soon?"

— nanami kento x gn! reader

—angst

—just a dump of sad words before i make a happier one for him. idk the exact month that shibuya happened bc i didnt watch, i couldnt do it. but just pretend it was near the end of the year if it wasnt.

— added note: i wrote this like months ago, idk why i never posted it, but im doing it now so you guys arent thirsty for new stuff.

m.list

you knew it wouldn't be easy. knew that this home you and your husband had built from the ground up with love, trust, and understanding, would all crumble down the moment he left those doors and never came back.

but you trusted the God, Deity, or whatever high being was guiding you to keep your home from falling apart.

and everyday, you kissed your husband goodbye and watched him leave your home after whispering his promise to you—"ill be home soon."— you held onto it too strong.

you hoped that even with the countless hours of him being gone that eventually in the morning, you'd find his arms wrapped around yours as he took a well needed rest beside you.

had you asked for too much?

if you had, you would take everything else back. you only want your husband right here and now.

the only thing to greet you in the morning were missed calls and texts, miserably informing you of your husband's untimely passing.

that couldn't be it, hadn't you wished for his return? surely this was a sick prank they've all decided to pull on you.

you grabbed your phone and dialed the only man you wanted to hear answers from right now.

gojo picked up and greeted you reluctantly.

"where is he?" you whispered as sobs ripped through your mouth.

you weren't so delusional to think that nanami would be alive even after all those people telling you that he was gone, but you had to hope. you could hope just a little bit, couldn't you?

"he's.." gojo satoru could never forget that call. having to tell you, his dear friend's spouse, of his own death. how could he forget the way you cried and begged for him to take back everything he had said?

he could only imagine how painful it was for you.

but he could never truly understand the moment that everything you've hoped for all came crashing down on you.

how could you have been sleeping so soundly while your own husband had been fighting for his life?

how could you be so far away, not being able to even hear his final words?

how could he have slipped through your fingers in just the blink of an eye?

so many questions ran through your mind.

a month from then flew by you slowly. waking up felt heavy, as if the guilt of being alive ate at you from the inside.

it's november now. beside you were tickets that you felt you had no reason to use. what would it be for if the person you wanted to give it to could no longer enjoy the trip with you?

malaysia was waiting for kento, and he was so close to being there in person. malaysia was so close to seeing kento's smile as he danced around the beach side, and so were you.

[jaennwrites]

Stain Them. I Don't Care.

Hi guys it been a long time and although this isn't my comeback I just felt in the writing spirit. I will try my best to write stuff but the truth is y'all my attention span has been gone since TLOU (HBO) ended. However, I'm trading in fortnite videos (jonesyXreader coming soon ofc) for Peaky Blinders. I'm on S2 E2 so this little blurb doesn't have much show lore but I love Tommy, I'm a Cillian Murphy fangirl and I love a good dangerous man who gets soft and obsessed for their women. Anyways let me actually shut up.

Word Count: 1,410 Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Fem Reader (fairly gender neutral but reader is referred to as a wife), Established Relationship (married :3). Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Gun and shooting, Character (you) death. Completely SFW.

All interactions greatly appreciated, hope I can find the motivation to write more, thx guyzers <3

Tommy Shelby was an interesting man, it was even more interesting that he devoted himself to someone like you. It wasn’t an insulting thing, it’s just that many people didn’t understand Tommy’s obsession with this ordinary woman. The circumstances of your meeting was a kept secret of course but as everyone knew, you weren’t a whore, or spy, or other gang’s  daughter or wife, you were just you.

So when Tommy got off of his stressful often bloody days just to see you either sitting peacefully or cooking something, it made him happy. When people had the stupidity to question why Tommy was with you, he’d simply respond with his usual menacing stare. Sure, he didn’t run around town boasting about his wife but you knew he felt prideful when he was with you. Especially when he could bring you around people he considered enemies, you were his walking proof that he could attain and be acquainted with good people. 

The true ‘fuck you’ to those who didn’t know peace for Tommy Shelby had the embodiment of it right by his side always. 

Your head perked up at the sound of the front door smiling as you saw Tommy tiredly walk through the door. You often spent chunks of time waiting for him, more recently than ever before. Thomas Shelby by no means was an open man, but he always allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, he could never not when it came to you. 

Being around you felt like an adrenaline rush that never ended; from the day he first saw you to the day he asked you to marry him. Everything about you made him nervous and scared; he somehow couldn’t rest peacefully with you in his life yet his time with you was more peaceful than he had ever known. 

“You look wide awake” You joked resting your head on the back of the couch.

“Funny” He smiled, a smile that couldn’t fade as long as you were there smiling back at him. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and looked at his bruised hands before squeezing them tightly with a smile. Tommy no doubt carried a lot of baggage into the relationship. On an almost agonizing constant loop you could still vividly picture the first death at the hands of Tommy that you had witnessed. Although he’d never tell you, he remembered it too, the guilt ate him alive everyday. The way you looked at him that day made him physically sick. When you agreed to see him again after that, the look was gone but he’d never forget it. 

“How has everything been?” “Business wise” You asked. 

“It’s getting better” He reassured.

“So can I come with you tomorrow? To the Garrison”

“Would you not prefer to sit here? Safely” Tommy teased.

You rolled your eyes unseriously knowing that simple gesture alone would be enough to convince him. Tommy often had a problem saying no to you, it was chronic at this point. There were times he was a little more resistant but eventually he’d break, just for you. Partly because he trusted your judgment, and you never asked for anything insane. You two were in many ways polar opposites but the borderline paranoid danger/bullshit meter you shared were identical, he trusted you.

“Fine” “Didn’t know you loved my boring meetings” He joked

Your nights consisted of you two sitting sometimes doing some light drinking but for the most part you just enjoyed each other’s company. No matter what Tommy went through during his day, to be able to come home to you or come home with you was his cure all. It scared him to death how much he loved you, some nights it was all he could think of, the fear and happiness you produced. 

Then the morning would come and that feeling would be a distant memory because you’d still always be there. This morning was no different, he woke up right next to you, your sleeping face somehow even more beautiful than when you both fell asleep. Tommy was not a man who was very vocal about his affections but his eyes never lied. You could melt into a puddle whenever he looked at you, when he looked at you it was as if someone had captured love, melted it and injected it into your veins. 

That morning Tommy fulfilled his promise and you happily came along with him to his meeting, you didn’t want to admit that it was indeed boring but god you were bored. These weren’t his sly threat here, sly threat there meetings, just simple boring money managing. 

“This is boring” You whispered, eliciting a smile from your husband before excusing yourself into the main portion of the bar.

However the bar also bore you, a bunch of men drinking all of them too afraid to even glance in your direction. Tommy had planned to be done with this meeting by now but unfortunately it seemed to be taking longer and longer. He sat letting his mind wander a little as the time felt slower and slower while your eyes searched for something to keep you busy. 

Tommy had a big dislike for you walking alone and you understood dislike, however simply standing outside of the bar surely was a loophole. The smell of alcohol was weirdly insufferable today so without a second thought you headed for the front door, opening the one and then the second. 

You hadn’t noticed for the first few seconds, but the wet feeling rapidly spreading from your chest pulled you into the dark reality. You looked up at the gunman to see a face full of regret, from that look alone clearly you weren’t the target

Your husband was. 

The gunman had been young, clearly trigger happy but nevertheless a wonderful shot because by the time your body fell back you were gone. Tommy practically had leaped over the table at the sound. As he opened the door to his private room his eyes scanned the bar full of equally worried faces but had yet to see yours. 

The commotion coming from the front door prompted him to quickly check and confirm the nightmare he had been dreading since the day he first met you. The guttural shout he let out quieted the entire street, anyone moving stopped, anyone working stopped, the entire world seemed to stop. 

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time his hands shook at the sight of a dead body. His shaky hand intertwined with your lifeless one and his arm wrapped securely around your neck. He pulled your body close to his chest, the still fresh blood now soaking into his suit. Nobody around dared to move, hell not even breathe for it would only be a reminder that you couldn’t.

Thomas Shelby sat in that doorway for hours, whispering various pleas and prayers to Gods he didn’t even believe in. Soon enough his family convinced him to allow your body to be taken and for everything to be cleaned up. 

The wedding ring that was removed from your finger felt like it weighed pounds as it moved in his pocket. All that movement just to bring him to an even harsher reality as he stood in front of your shared home. He sat on the front steps for a while, it rained, drunk men passed, various things passed and he sat not daring to move a muscle. 

When Tommy finally made it into the house his heart felt as if it was attempting to break out of his chest. His eyes watered as he slowly shuffled over to your side of the bed falling to his knees beside it. Slowly his head descended before resting into blankets that filled his senses of nothing but you. The sheets smelled of you, the feeling of the blankets brought back every lovely memory of you. 

Thomas Shelby couldn’t remember the last time he cried, like really truly cried. Quite frankly he couldn’t remember anything in this state. A place that once was home to your laughter and voice was now full of the muffled sobs of your husband. 

Tommy’s hands held his blood soaked chest wishing that he had covered himself in your blood. He prayed it would stain every item of clothing he owned, stain his hands, his face so that he could never be without you. 

"I fear to stain your clothes with blood" "Stain them, I don't care"

[harlowsbby]

Urban angst where he cheats on the reader and he thought it would feel good but it eats him alive when that’s all he thinks about how he cheated on her and the guilt gets worse every time and jack pushing him to tell her

Passing Time

Urban felt guilty he felt terrible the guilt was eating him away, while away on tour with Jack for his week in Australia Urban had cheated on you.

He didn’t mean it he never planned on cheating on you but the liquor got into his system and it took forever one thing lead to another and he woke up in his hotel room with some blonde chick laying under him.

It pained Urban ever since he cheated on the most precious girl in the whole entire world, he’d be a fool to lose you everyone wanted you because you were rare, sweet and innocent and filled with so much love and hope and determination but he fucked everything up.

Every since they came back to Atlanta for a few days Jack has been pressing Urban everyday on telling you that he cheated. Jack was pissed when he found out Urban had cheated on you because to Jack you were like his little sister he never had and when he found out Urban cheated on you it took everything in him not to hurt Urban but seeing you love up and cuddle up on Urban everyday pained Jack because he knew the man you loved wasn’t as innocent as you thought he was.

“Just tell her Urban because if you don’t tell her soon I will.” Jack threatened Urban once again ever since he found out he’s been pressing Urban every single day to tell you.

“I will Jack.. just not right now.”

“So when Urban? Because Y/N needs to know the truth and I know it’s eating you alive I can see it in your face.”

“Know what?” You came around the corner and smiled seeing Jack and Urban in the kitchen. You have Jack a side hug before sitting on top of the counter, Urban smiled up at you before leaning between your legs his hands started rubbing up on your thighs.

“How did you sleep baby?” Rubbing your nose against Urban’s you giggled before pulling back and just admiring what was yours for a few seconds.

“I slept good just got sad when I woke up and you weren’t next to me.”

“I’m here now baby girl that’s all that matters yeah?” You smiled and nodded pulling some of his hair behind his ear.

“That’s all that matters Urban.” Urban looked behind him and saw Jack shaking his head at him, Urban’s smile quickly left his lips his blue eyes landed on yours as you started prepping some breakfast for him he knew he had to tell you what he had done but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

“Are we still going to the club tonight? I really wanna wear this black leather dress I got the other day it really makes my curves pop.”

“If you want baby then we can still go but for now let’s just enjoy breakfast together.”

The two of you ate breakfast in peace just enjoying the company of the other after breakfast you two took a little nap and when you woke up you started getting ready for the club.

Jack wasn’t set to perform at the club he just thought it would be a good idea for everyone to get out and enjoy a night out in Atlanta together.

“Wow look at you shit I think a quickie before the club is needed what do you think baby girl?” Urban grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into him you laughed and pulled away from him.

“I don’t think so Urb it took me a good two hours or so to get ready and you aren’t about to mess up my makeup and hair.” Groaning Urban nodded and let you finish getting ready before the two of you met everyone outside in the suv.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” Neelam complimented you and you smiled back at her and complimented her as well you all rode over to the club in a peaceful silence, once at the club you all went inside and towards the vip section.

“You want anything to drink baby? Or a couple shots.”

“Some shots a fine thank you Urb.” You smiled as he squeezed your hand before walking off towards the bar with Jack and them, leaving only Neelam and You behind.

“How are things between Urban and You?”

“Things have been good.” Things between Urban and You have been good but he’s been acting strange lately ever since he came back from tour he’s been acting off and very hesitant with you.

“I’m happy things are going great between the both of you.”

“Me too Neelam.” You didn’t really feed much more into that topic and decided to change it eventually Urban came back with some drinks and a couple of shots and you drowned them all within seconds.

“Damn I’ve never seen Y/N drink this much in my life.” Nemo said as they all looked over at you as you sat at the bar with Neelam the two of you taking shots after shots.

“Me either and it’s kind of concerning.” Urban bit his lip as you continued to take shots, you were always so quiet and reserved and was never into drinking so watching you take these shots like there was no tomorrow had him worried.

Jack knew what was wrong with you but he didn’t dare tell Urban, earlier that day when you walked in on the two of them talking it was bugging you all day because you didn’t know until you begged Jack to tell you and you swore your heart broke in half, the man you loved cheated on you and what made it worse was the fact that he didn’t tell you.

You somehow made your way back over towards the table everyone was sitting at you tried your best to contain your giggles but the liquor was taking over your system.

“Hiiiii guys how are you all.” You slurred your words and your eyes got big at the pitcher of alcohol they had just ordered.

“Baby don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Urban questioned and went to pull the alcohol back.

“Yeah Y/N I agree with Urban this isn’t really like you.” 2fo added on, looking over at Jack he frowned slightly he had pity on you because he loved you and knew you didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

“Why don’t you ask your buddy Urban why I’m drinking so much.” You spat at 2fo while Urban’s heart beat started to race.

“Uh why is she drinking so much Urban?” Nemo asked now interested on what was going on.

“Yeah Urban should you tell them all or should I?” Glaring down at him his eyes started prickling with tears of regret.

“Bab-.”

“He cheated on me when he was with you all in Australia he cheated on me with some random chick isn’t that right Urban.” Your voice cracked as the tears started forming your bottom lip quivered as everyone looked at you in sorrow.

“She didn’t mean anything to me Y/N it was a mistake I didn’t mean to sleep with her.” Shaking your head at Urban you pushed his hands off of you.

“All you had to do was be honest with me Urban and we could’ve talked this out and worked this out but you’re nothing but a liar and a cheat, I can’t be with somebody like that.” You mumbled before leaning over and kissing his cheek one last time.

“I’ll see you guys around.” You whispered before dashing out of the club.

“Y/N hold on!!” Neelam yelled after you before getting up and chasing after you.

“Well damn I didn’t think tonight would end like this.” Nemo said, 2fo nodded his head in agreement.

Urban messed up he knew he lost one of the greatest things that ever happened to him he was a fool for losing you.

[coralinnii]

Riddle Rosehearts (Frankenstein monster!Riddle x apprentice!Yuu)

genre: horror, angst

note: mentions of d*ath, mentions of heavy medical crimes and illegal harvesting,

summary: He was a monstrosity. A freak of nature and you fear the man before you, even if he was someone you once loved.

series index

It was a one-in-a-million chance for this to be a success. He was called a medical miracle who survived through incredible odds.

The son of the renowned Rosehearts couple was caught in a deadly accident, leaving him with non-functional organs and severely damaged nerves. First responders were sure he would be dead by the time he reached his family’s private hospital. But, Mrs. Rosehearts announced that her son was alive and breathing. He made it.

…Supposed something made it.

“My love,” the redhead lovingly caressed your hands as you sat by his private room, as per his request. You fought the urge to vomit as you saw his stitches on his arms that pull the skin together. “Thank you for visiting me. You must have been busy”

Typically you would be, being the apprentice to Riddle’s mother in hopes to gain experience in the medical field. It was how you met Riddle and you two began a relationship without his mother’s knowledge.

“Of course, I would” you forced a smile to which the boy laying in bed responded with his own, his grey eyes crinkled along his smile which stretched the scarring across his face.

How you wish to believe this was your Riddle. Despite the burns and scars, he looked exactly like your beloved and he maintained the memories of your time together. But your mind was sending alarms in you, telling you to wake up from your delusions. He was not your lover, but a monster.

A monster you had a hand in making as you listened to your mentor’s commands to sneak into the morgue at night. You were driven by love and guilt to save Riddle no matter the cost. Afterall, he protected you during that fateful day which led to his condition now. So despite your oath, you helped Riddle’s mother in retrieving organs to replace the ones that her son was missing.

Heart, blood, lungs, skin, eyes. You discarded your own morality to desecrate your former patients in hopes to revive your beloved. His death, be damned.

You were as desperate as they were, but even Riddle’s parents could see your wavering resolve and threatened to destroy you should you tell anyone of the crime committed in their hospital. To them, you were just a scared apprentice not willing to go against the Rosehearts family, unaware of your own hidden motives to save their son.

“We just need to find more skin to hide the scars, and he’ll be perfect just like before” your mother whispered to you as she eyed the patients that came into the hospital that day, finding the right “benefactor”. You tried your best to help those who came to the Rosehearts hospital, looking to be saved. But now, they are donors, whether they realize it or not.

But, the Rosehearts were right. You were weak and your weakness was tearing you apart with every moment you spent with Riddle in his room. Your guilt ate away at you whenever he pulled you into a hug, where you can hear his heartbeat from the heart you stole. One of his eyes was from a young patient who recently passed. You remembered how that same patient laughed with you when you mentioned how her eyes remind you of your lover. Instead of grief, you gave half-hearted condolences to the family while planning your visit to the coroner’s office to falsify records of her autopsy.

“Love!” Riddle called out to you, bringing you out from your spiraling thoughts. “Why are you crying?”

The revived man reached out to wipe your cheeks, where you finally registered the wetness of your face and your stinging eyes. Weeks of dissociating yourself from reality has finally worked against you as you physically reached your limit. His hands felt different from what you’re used to. You recognized the skin of his hands as the same you scalped from one of your visits to the cold morgue.

Tears continued to fall as you broke down in your seat, as the panicked redhead tried to console his lover, oblivious to the atrocities done by you and his parents, the very people whom he trusts with his life.

He became a monster, and so did you.

[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022): episode 4, the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding.

tw: murder, death, blood, strong language, all vampire / horror things.

* i can't tell you that... i can't tell you that either.

* your doctor has been consulted and has given consent.

* would you follow me to the reading room?

* quite the house plant.

* the interior designer hired was a sentimentalist.

* please, wear gloves when handling the material.

* we suggest you begin on the left.

* their blood is bitter, it almost makes you feel sick to drink it.

* i tried to be good.

* i closed my eyes and waited for the fire to take me too.

* he was beautiful, strong, and fast and he carried me like i was made of feathers.

* i guessed i was in heaven, so i waited for the pain to go away and for my mama to join me.

* she's going cold, what do we do?

* i don't know where to bite, her body is all charred.

* she's just a kid.

* and she'll be what? a lap dog?

* you were ready to abandon our home, now you want a third.

* i just need her not to die.

* and then i tasted it, and right away i felt as strong as a street car.

* i realized what what i thought was heaven was just a nice room.

* you got some of your own i can have?

* so, this is my new house?

* i heard your cry for help. we can hear people's thought.

* prove it. what am i thinking now?

* so you can hear my thoughts, but he can't? does that make him the dumb one?

* if he makes you, he can't hear your thoughts anymore.

* he relies on my words to understand me, just like a human.

* i'm not a human no more, am i?

* well, i can see where this is going.

* you'll do it too, in time, my little milkweed. i'll teach you. but not if we're going to have family secrets?

* are we a family?

* but with no secrets.

* they had nice clothes, a nice auto-carriage, and a funny way of being nice to each other.

* so, i'm supposed to kill him?

* i'm not sure how i feel about that pleated skirt.

* looks like she takes after me...

* you're not a girl, you're a devil!

* you have to stop while they're alive.

* who is it she takes after?

* confusion, regret, euphoria... you'll wake up feeling a lot of things. guilt... a bad taste in your mouth from the cop which again you should never choose.

* what did i just say?

* don't eat cops.

* you gotta listen to your elders when they're talking.

* hungry? you just ate a man twice your size.

* i'm so hungry... i think i'm gonna die. is that how vampires die? of starvation?

* some sleep is what she needs.

* sedation is what she needs.

* you suck them like frog legs and burn them like trash.

* i gotta go to bed when the rest of the world wakes up.

* have you seen my slippers?

* must every night end like this?

* y'all get tired before i do.

* why does she talk to the book?

* the sun goes up, we go down. that's never gonna change.

* keeping you safe, little waif.

* the book is my friend.

* the book is her friend.

* the book is a book.

* put the pen down.

* when i'm tired, i'm not so kind.

* and where are all the vampires at?

* she's gonna pass real soon. we're trying to accustom her to the thought of... going home to god.

* it's so soft!

* it's just me, my pen, my brain, my heart, and the blood of the street car conductor i drained after he got off work. thank you, street car driver. i hope they got more of you at your company to fill in for you.

* don't shush me.

* i missed you.

* you missed me?

* he doesn't give good answers to questions, sits on the truth like it's his chair or something. i thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets.

* sometimes, old people don't like talking much about the past. sometimes, you gotta be careful where you dig, you understand?

* how does it work, love between two men?

* you ever liked girls?

* i don't know how you do that... you can't like the taste.

* it's not just what you eat. you can kill quick and painless, or you can get extravagant.

* there've been times when i've gone too far myself.

* some killing has consequences.

* i used to get a little caught up in human affairs.

* how does muhammad feel about vampires?

* how is your reading coming along?

* i interrupted, you were praying.

* i have my own room now.

* still, you wouldn't believe how time flies when you got people to eat and money to spend.

* we do like mortals do. we fight, we eat, we laugh, we sleep, we love!

* never seen a dead one look so peaceful... do you know what her last words were?

* who are you here with, honey?

* you have a kid?

* we need to talk about the house.

* over the cold body of our mama. i was wondering why i got the invite this time.

* well, good we got each other's backs... make you proud, you hear?

* the smell is awful.

* wakes were invented in places where it snowed.

* i'll have the papers drawn up.

* now, here's a treat. i think you're ready for. this is what the meat calls a 'lovers lane', and by my estimation no blood is sweeter. young people, swollen with passion, denied spirits by this senseless prohibition, park along this lonely stretch to contemplate that most mysterious of mathematical equations: how one plus one... becomes one.

* you've been too sheltered, my belladonnic beauty.

* did you just crawl out of the swamp or something?

* there's something back there, something evil!

* she's a prodigious killer, why you wanna limit her is beyond comprehension.

* i jumped a girl in between speakeasies, i wear it better though.

* don't do something he would do.

* happy hunting!

* i'm sorry, i got so scared i almost fainted. i thought the flowers might bring me back a bit.

* i'm glad you're back.

* i just wanted to say thank you for driving me home.

* i had to make sure you wouldn't faint again.

* i wanna know what his laugh sounds like when it's all the way.

* i'm surprised your fancy parents even let you out at night.

* they know i can take care of myself.

* you almost got trampled by a horse.

* no running in the house!

* i finally got a few secrets of my own.

* are you blocking me?

* do you not like it?

* i guess you're probably used to having ice cream any time you want.

* so, is this what you always do for a first date? take a girl out for some ice cream?

* no way you're older than me.

* everyone in my family looks young for their age.

* i'm tired of waiting!

* you don't even look like a girl... you're an angel.

* it's easy to get carried away when you're young and in love.

* stop squirming and watch. remember this, his face as it melts. this is why we never get close to mortals. because sooner or later, they end up dead.

* i had a daughter.

* the oh-so-delicate balance of our oh-so-delicate household was shattered.

* and what should i have done? tucked his body into the coffin with her?

* it's funnier when you fight in french.

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE | CH. 3 (Michael x Reader)

it feels so good to be writing this guy again god... i've rly pulled from my own Michael headcanons for this one so i hope you enjoy! :D

Michael Myers x trans!Reader (he/him)

Summary: "Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

PREV | NEXT

Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had since taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents went out with their kids or simply stayed home with them. If phones went down or power went out, teens were told to cross the street and get help. But people would still dress up, still go looking for candy, and still sneak out to make out with their respective partners.

But Halloween had come and gone without much issue for you. Of course, Michael had been busy that night. You'd stayed up late into the night to wait up for him, watching horror movies with some candy and popcorn until you heard your back door open and heavy footfalls approaching. He didn't have many injuries - he rarely did anymore - but he was still soaked in blood.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. You lay in bed and stared up at your ceiling for the first few days after Halloween stewing in your worries. Would he leave? Go back to the institution? What was he going to do? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television - intrigued by the nature documentaries and cartoons the most - and follow you around the house when you were home. And if you were out at work or shopping, he'd stalk you from a distance. It became the new normal.

Months passed. Fall colors began to fade to browns and whites as November came. You still left out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you were beginning to lose hope. All you could do was pray that he didn't suffer before he died or that he wasn't eaten by some other animal. Michael would watch you from the doorway, dressed in a sweater and plaid pj bottoms you'd gotten for him as you sat on the steps of your back door, hoping your kitty would come home. It must've been silly to him but he never stopped you.

He didn't kill. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news for the most part and with your dad gone, you didn't have much inside information anymore.

The guilt hadn't really set in yet either. You missed him, of course, but he'd never been very present. The death of your mom had hit him hard and you always felt like he'd never properly forgiven you for it. How a man could resent his son for something he didn't do was ridiculous to you. You missed the idea of your dad more than who he actually was.

But you made Thanksgiving. Michael was familiar with the concept though it had been a long time since he'd participated. So, you went all out. Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes since those had become Michael's favorite to watch. You both ate your weight in food and fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch. You'd never seen him sleep before and you were momentarily taken aback by how peaceful he looked.

It was nice.

One afternoon when you got back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing outside your front door, holding something wrapped up in his arms. When you'd gotten closer, fearing the worst, you nearly wept with joy to see Mayhem bundled up in a towel. Cold and shaking and most certainly sick but alive. You'd gone to the vet's office a shaking, sobbing mess, just happy to have your kitty back.

Mayhem had to have surgery for his infected wounds and would be on antibiotics for awhile. But he was home and thats all that mattered to you. You'd thanked Michael profusely and brought home pumpkin pies for weeks after, even with the fall pumpkin flavors out of style. They were definitely his favorite. He liked most sweet things, honestly. You were surprised how much of a sweet tooth he had.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost started making appearances. The first day it snowed, you'd bundled yourself and Michael up and gone outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, leaving the thing on the kitchen table more often than not, so you got to put a cute wool hat on him and drag him outside with your mitten-clad hand clasping his. "Come see, come see!"

Michael had looked up when he noticed the snowflakes falling. Just a light flurry. He watched as you stuck your tongue out and caught snowflakes on your tongue and gave you a strange look. "Try," you nudged him gently. "It's fun, I promise."

He'd done it but only to make you happy.

And still, he hadn't killed yet. You wondered if it was just a Halloween thing. If he was a normal person throughout the rest of the year. Obviously you'd never pushed about what happened with his sister - you liked living - but you wondered if the killings were a result of the trauma. Trauma that the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge. Because it was far easier to pretend Michael didn't feel anything. That he held no remorse for what he did. Yet the doctor didn't put together that Michael went from a totally normal boy to suddenly nonspeaking and monotonous after killing her.

It had affected him, even if the doctor nor Michael himself wanted to acknowledge that.

Life continued on. Mayhem made a full recovery and spent his days lounging in the winter sun. You would cut Michael's hair to keep it from growing out of control and he helped you shovel snow from the driveway. You noticed that he liked working with his hands and seemed to enjoy drawing on loose paper around the house, so you got him paints and canvases and cleaned out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio. The two of you lay down old newspapers and he'd disappear for hours up there to paint.

Michael didn't show the paintings to you. Not often anyways. That wasn't really the point anyways. But there were a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or on your bed. Your favorite so far had been a blur of pale blues and whites of a winter sky, your own profile looking up at the sky. The way Michael painted was streaky, like his hands shook when he painted. Lines were messy and colors bled together, but you recognized yourself in his art.

It was interesting, seeing yourself through someone else's eyes - much less his - translated to art. You kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the dry paint, tracing his lines. And you wondered - fleetingly and with bright red cheeks - if you looked beautiful in his eyes.

You liked to think that you did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you. He had a habit of being a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on after he learnt you were leaving but that was pretty normal. Whenever you weren't around, he'd wear it. But he'd also wear it when he was just generally stressed out or upset. He'd become significantly more comfortable not wearing it around the house over the few months you'd been living together.

You wondered, briefly, if he ever slept. You hadn't seen him do so since Thanksgiving and it momentarily worried you.

"If you're so upset, why not just come with?" You snorted to yourself. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater. Could be fun." You joked.

You focused on doing your own makeup: dark green eyeshadow and red lips. Makeup wasn't your preference but it suited your elf costume. A simple green tunic with red and white striped knee-high socks. The hat and boots you wore were matching greens and you'd heavily blushed your face, drawing little snowflakes in white liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

You heard heavy footsteps approach you until you felt Michael standing directly behind you. "Wait, are you-?" You spun around to stare up at him. "Are you serious?"

A blank stare. He put a hand around your neck and you noted his tense shoulders. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now, you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things to you. So you didn't panic at all.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just can't tell if you're actually interested in going. You know there'll be people there, right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either. You can't kill or hurt anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time, sure, but you could never be totally sure what Michael's motives may be.

Michael just let go and took a step back. You gave him a look. It was hard to tell what went on in his head a lot of the time. You'd certainly gotten better at reading him but Michael could still be unpredictable. So, watching him turn on his heel and stalk towards the dresser made you pause.

He fished out a black t-shirt and matching black jeans - clothes you'd gotten him for when he needed to change out of that jumpsuit - and turned to face you. You blinked once. Twice. "You seriously want to go with me to a Christmas party? Dressed up? Without your mask on?"

And Michael nodded once.

That was significant. You could count on two hands the amount of times Michael nodded or shook his head at you. So for him to be this certain about it...

"Alright then, c'mere big guy." You gave him a soft smile and motioned for him to sit on the bed.

As he took the mask off - hands shaking and hesitant - you started leafing around in your vanity drawers as you heard him change. A soft, colored contact lens would help disguise the injured eye. It was a jade green, yeah, but it was better than nothing. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of.

You set the small package aside and looked through makeup options. You found some red eyeshadow you could do around his eyes and on his nose, some blush, and your white liquid eyeliner for details. You collected all your goodies and turned to face Michael on the bed.

Your smile fell when you saw him dressed in the black clothes but still gripping the latex mask tightly, his knuckles whitening as he hung his head and stared into it's face. He looked almost out of place on your bed, amongst the pale blue sheets and stuffed animals.

"You don't have to go." You reassured softly. Slowly, he looked up at you. "I know this isn't something you normally do but," Michael blinked slowly as you continued rambling. "I don't want you to feel like I'm making you go with me. You can stay and I'll be back soon and I- I can bring back pie or something. Don't feel pressured."

Michael stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into the latex of his mask. The last thing you needed was Michael snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You'd never forced Michael into anything he didn't want to do and you had a feeling that wasn't typical for him.

He slowly, ever so slowly, unclenched his fingers and let the mask fall to the floor. The two of you stared at it for a long time as he blinked at it. You could tell by the clenching in his jaw that he was certainly fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you sat down gently on the bed beside him and reached for his face. His flinch was the most emotion you'd ever seen from him and it made your heart clench. "It's just me," you said softly, opening the container with the contact lens inside. "'m not gonna hurt you."

Michael just glared slightly at you. You giggled softly and opened the contact lens case up. You'd have to cover up his injured eye, at the very least. "Alright, have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, looking up at him.

You saw something pass over his face quickly, barely there, before his face schooled itself once again. He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky. It took some time to get the contact in his eye. Neither of you really knew what you were doing. Michael had never put contacts in and you were scared it'd roll back to his brain. But, through your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty blue-and-green heterochromatic eyes. Even with the scarring, he looked... normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You asked teasingly. You knew he hadn't. Probably. But you were curious how new this all was for him. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took for a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You dabbled the brush in the dark red eyeshadow. It would hopefully hide his scars as well. You weren't even sure how familiar people were with his actual face. You wondered if people knew what Michael Myers, the man, looked like. Or if they just saw the white, pale face of the Boogeyman when they closed their eyes.

Your heart clenched a little as Michael shut his eyes, a hand reaching out to clench your hip tightly. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were only an exception to his 'no-touching-me' thing because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he gave you his protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you was the best he could do to abate his worries.

He trusted you, despite himself. The thought made you smile to yourself as you brushed red powder around his eyes. Neither of you had planned on caring about each other so much but here you were.

You hummed to yourself as you worked - some pop song you'd heard while grocery shopping a few days ago that still haunted you - and you felt Michael's grip on you slowly relax. "So, a few of my friends will be there," you said softly, brushing around his eyes in a sort-of raccoon style. It obscured a lot of the scarring, thankfully. You took out some black eyeshadow to highlight around his eyes and make them look sunken in. It made him look just a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out to a dark red. "They might try and talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, I'll tell them you're mute and they won't expect you to speak. Okay?"

Michael gave your hip a squeeze for affirmation.

"What do you want me to call you? I mean, I could just call you Michael but I'm worried it'll look suspicious." You hummed while you dusted red on his nose to resemble Rudolph. "Though I guess no one's worrying about the Boogeyman on Christmas." You teased playfully.

He opened his eyes and gave you a slow blink. It was strange, seeing him look this normal. Soft brown curls still messy from the mask, half-lidded eyes as he stared at you, and a defined jawline. Michael was objectively very pretty. He had good skin and pretty eyes, especially with the eyeshadow, and-

You cleared your throat and reached for the blush. "This might feel a bit rougher than the other brush but it's alright, I promise. Close your eyes again?" He shut his eyes again and you brushed a heavy blush on his cheeks. Before he could open his eyes again, you'd grabbed the liquid eyeliner and held under his chin as you began drawing freckles on the warm pink. Little, simplistic snowflakes around his eyes and white dots that faded out towards his nose. That way you two could match!

You smiled to yourself as you worked and it wasn't until you capped your eyeliner that you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest possible thing to a person, he had to know exactly what scared someone. Of course, you knew that was ridiculous. This wasn't a Stephen King novel. But still. It felt like he knew what you were thinking a lot of the time.

You straightened up and gave him a soft smile as you dropped your hand. It was almost hysterical to you - seeing the Haddonfield Boogeyman dressed up like Rudolph - but you restrained yourself from laughing. So you just stood quickly and went to grab some little horns off your vanity. They were simple, just a brown headband with some simple horns tangled in pretend lights, but they were undeniably cute.

Michael seemed to squint at them before looking at you. "Trust me, they'll look super cute on you." He seemed to relent himself to his fate and let you put the horns on him. Gently, you fluffed his hair so that you couldn't see the headband as easy. Stepping back, you looked him over.

Michael fucking Myers, dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"I could just call you Mike," you hummed, tilting your head at him. "That'd be less suspicious." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "What? Don't like it?" Michael glared harder and you laughed. "Alright, alright, I guess Michael isn't that suspicious. Hopefully they won't ask for your last name." You shrugged.

Michael surveyed you silently, tilting his head the way he always did. Inspecting. But, more accurately, looking at something he found fascinating. It was how he looked at his victims sometimes. How he looked at you.

"Well Mikey," you said as you went to grab your bag of belongings, dismissing that train of thought. Technically, your bag was a purse but you didn't think of it like that. "Shall we?"

He just stared at you. He hadn't killed you for the nickname so you assumed it was fine. It wasn't like Michael would tolerate things he disliked, after all.

How Chrissy had managed to get this party together was beyond you. She was a girl you'd known in high school and had kept somewhat in touch with since you'd both graduated. She'd been a year above you and had been dating the quarterback of the football team, or something like that. Popular, well-liked, and clearly still trying to ride the high off of that despite graduating out of high school cliques.

The house was decorated to the nines in lights with little reindeers made of lights sat grazing outside. Soft snow decorated the front of the house and highlighted the pretty rainbow lights all around the exterior. They ran all along the roof and even down the porch where you and Michael stood. You'd rung the doorbell and were waiting for Chrissy to answer.

When she did, smiling widely and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit, she surveyed you and Michael. "And who is this handsome guy? Bitch, I thought I told you to tell me if you knew any cute guys." She teased, letting you both come in and take your coats off. There was already a good amount of people in the large suburban home, most drinking spiked apple cider and Christmas cookies.

Michael held your bicep once he was free of his coat. "Sorry Chrissy, he's, uh," you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with a cover story. You panicked when she gave you an expecting look. "He's my boyfriend." You blurted out quickly.

Well, that worked.

Chrissy pouted exaggeratedly. "Damn. Well, anyways, mingle! Have fun! We're doing the Secret Santa thing later- Oh! Did you bring your-?" You held up the red and green gift bag and Chrissy beamed, happily taking it from you. "Perfect, alright, you're free to go!"

You led the way, Michael still holding your arm, and went to the kitchen. It was strange, leading the Haddonfield Boogeyman through a Christmas party. Usually, you were able to dismiss the fact he killed people from your mind. It had gotten easier since he hadn't killed anyone in nearly two months, but you didn't play ignorant for his sake.

The kitchen was clean, white, and pristine. Chrissy's parents had a maid who cleaned everything so their house always looked more like an interior design catalogue rather than a home. You swiped a candy cane sugar cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one.

He just stared at you, eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "What?" You asked. His head tilted to the side and you felt your face heat up. "Oh, sorry... It was the best I could think to say in the moment. Are you... okay with that?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You almost began spouting apologies again before he took a cookie - frosted to look like a snowman - and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there. Staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies.

When he finished his, he seemed to straighten up. Stepping forward, he gently brushed his lips to your forehead. Not a kiss - he wasn't exactly skilled in that area - but the intent was there and the message was clear. Your face lit up and you nodded when he pulled back. You could've sworn his eyes softened. "Cool. Cool, okay." You said softly.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek - leaving a faint lipstick stain - and grabbed another cookie with a glass of the cider. You passed him the cookie and motioned for him to follow you into the crowd as you suppressed a giddy smile.

The party went smoothly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you talked to wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say. If anyone asked him questions, he'd bite into the cookie and you'd answer for him. He was a mechanic you'd met when he worked on your car. He liked painting and was sweet with your cat. And you'd been dating for a month and a half now.

Michael would occasionally hold your wrist as you two walked around. It felt normal. Painfully so. As if you and Michael were just two normal young adults at a Christmas party. As if you weren't harboring Haddonfield's own serial killer. It felt sweet - feeling Michael hold onto you as you led him around. You'd hold his arm sometimes when you talked, pleasantly buzzed from the cider and enjoying the warm Christmas atmosphere with your boyfriend.

Perhaps it had come too easily to you to call him that.

When Chrissy's parents came home with some of their own friends, you hadn't thought much of it. Until the sinking, chilling remembrance that Chrissy's dad - John Kallas - was a police officer. A friend of your dads. Who had been part of the force looking for Michael around Halloween time.

You clutched his arm as one of your friends talked to you, not really listening to them and instead focused on keeping Michael out of sight of Officer Kallas.

But the older folk seemed to retreat to one of the sitting rooms, barely sparing the partygoers a glance. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

The Secret Santa went without a hitch. You sat next to Michael on the couch and curled at his side. He'd seemed surprised at the gesture and slowly put his arm around you, making you blush sweetly. You'd gotten a new book on plants and growing vegetables ("Oh, you think I should grow tomatoes?" You'd looked at Chrissy. "Well, if you insist!" She'd laughed.) and you leafed through it, skimming the words as you sat against your boyfriend's side.

When it finally came time to leave, you chatted with Chrissy in the doorway as you and Michael shrugged your coats on. As you went to step out the door, Officer Kallas was making his way to the kitchen and you saw his stumble out of the corner of his eye, watching you and Michael leave.

You took his arm tightly and walked briskly to the car, not wanting to give the officer the chance to come see if he'd really seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Christmas came and went. You'd gotten Michael new paints and a sketchbook with some charcoals and the two of you ate pie and roast chicken and cookies you'd made after Michael's insistence. Apparently the ones at Chrissy's party had swayed him. At least he'd helped you make them. His frosting skills left much to be desired but he had fun painting them and adding sprinkles.

At one point, you must've gotten frosting on your cheek. Slowly, he'd reached over and brushed the offending icing from your face and he licked it off his thumb absentmindedly. As though it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Neither of you had really brought up the party - or your relationship. At one point while frosting, you'd decided to see something and stood up under the guise of getting more icing. You paused, brushing curls back from his forehead as you tilted his head back, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

He blinked up at you slowly. Like a cat did to show it trusted you.

As you made your way to the kitchen - trying and failing to stifle your smile - you felt his eyes on you all the way.

But it was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn't typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He'd been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. It was still too snowy out to be gardening. You looked forward to spring and being able to set up your garden again.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you'd gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he'd clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you'd been living together.

The two of you had been sitting on the couch. 11:59PM. One more minute until the new year. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said from your spot beside Michael, "but it's cute. It's nice to see everyone get together over something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head.

10...

You felt your throat tighten as a thought came to your head. Chrissy's words came back to you as you recalled her talking about her favorite New Years tradition.

9...

"Hey, Michael?" Your voice was soft. You'd barely even realized you'd spoken until you felt his eyes on you.

8...

Swallowing was a challenge for you. "There's, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, means-"

7...

"-you'll have good luck for the rest of the year."

6...

"Want to do it?"

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between your two eyes, calculating.

5...

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips.

4...

"Trust me," you said more than asked.

3...

He just stared at you as you moved your hand up slowly, touching his face with your fingertips. It felt like the sound of your heart pounding was audible, even over the sounds of the tv.

2...

Michael's eyes widened ever so slightly.

1...

You leaned forward and kissed him. The sounds of cheering could be heard but it sounded like it was underwater. All your senses were fixated on the man in front of you. He felt tense under your touch, even as you slid your hand to better cup his face.

But then you felt him lean into the kiss and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

Michael didn't exactly have a lot of experience with kissing but he was clearly trying. You scooted closer and he put his hands on your hips, lifting you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

You sat in his lap as you kissed, parting occasionally to breath but you only felt yourself choke when Michael would stare up at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes.

He was pretty, you admitted to yourself freely before leaning back down to kiss him again. Slowly, you ran your hands through his curly hair as you kissed.

Things changed on New Years but you certainly weren't complaining.

The snow had finally begun clearing up and you could go outside again with relative ease. Rain and sleet was more preferable to snow for you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable.

You and Michael were dating. Or, at least, the closest he was comfortable with in regards to dating. You kissed sometimes, he'd stand at the foot of your bed when you slept, and he let you touch him more. Slow but steady progress.

He seemed to genuinely like you and trust you.

One day, you'd needed to go shopping to grab some things. "Michael?" You called out as you fastened your shoes, "I'll be back around 5:30, alright?"

Ever since the party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time so long as he knew when you'd be coming back. Because if you didn't, he'd hunt for you. You didn't doubt that.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a few feet away from you, staring at you. You shot him a smile and grabbed your bag. "See you soon!" And off you went.

Looking back on it, you wished you had stayed home.

At the grocery store, you had been examining a box of cereal when someone approached you. Chrissy. Her smile looked tight, forced. "Hey," she said sweetly. "How've you been?"

"Good," you said, looking concerned. "Are you okay-?"

"How's your boyfriend. What was his name, uh, Michael?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt a jolt of white-hot adrenaline rush through you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed the worst. Her dad was standing at the end of the aisle dressed in his uniform with his partner beside him. And they were watching you.

"He's traveling. Went to see family." You tried to keep your voice neutral.

Chrissy pouted. "Someone die?" Her faux sympathy got worse. "Maybe his sister?"

She knew. You don't know how she found out, but she knew. You don't know why they took so long to do something about it but you felt compelled to run.

Times like this you wished you had a way to get ahold of Michael.

You tightened your grip on your bag and narrowed your eyes, hoping you could maintain your lie. "No. His dad is sick."

Chrissy clearly didn't believe you. But she didn't stop you as you put the cereal box in your cart and walked away. You could hear footsteps picking up the pace behind you and you picked up speed.

When Officer Kallas called your name, you turned on your heels and shoved the metal cart forward, driving it into his stomach. You took the opportunity to bolt out the door as you heard him call for backup on his walkie talkie.

His partner was still hot on your heels as you ran towards your car. All you had to do was get inside and you could get away. Go to a phone booth or something and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem and get out and you'd come get him. Something. Anything.

But you'd never get the chance. Because the officer grabbed you around your middle and lifted you. "Put me down!" You shrieked.

"You're being taken into police custody for suspicion of harboring a criminal. Come with me." He dragged you towards a police car where Officer Kallas was standing.

They overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat and slamming the door, locking you in. Tears fell down your face as you panicked. He wouldn't know they were coming. They'd catch him and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up in the seat and sob.

The only thought on your mind was that you hoped he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He'd been on Michael Myers' case since the child first arrived at Smith's Grove and he liked to think he knew Michael better than anyone. He'd studied the boy, subjected him to various medications, attempted to trigger anything out out of the man.

Years went by and there had been no response. So there had been talk of releasing Michael with parol. Dr. Loomis had done everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Then Halloween had come and Michael had escaped. And, yet again, he had escaped.

"Doctor?" Officer Kallas's voice broke the psychologist from his stupor. He'd been staring out the window of his office again, lost in thought.

"Come in." He turned, looking over his shoulder and freezing.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. "We apprehended them like you asked. We'll head to their house to retrieve-"

"Don't," Loomis held up a hand. "No. We've got all we need right here." He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt gross under his stare. "Michael will come looking for them. Then we'll catch him. We can't give him any advantages."

Officer Kallas nodded and you bit your tongue to prevent any objections from spilling past your lips. You didn't want to give the doctor any more information than you had to.

The officers left you alone with him and he sat at his desk. "Tell me," he hummed, "what was being held captive by Michael like?" You looked at him, brow furrowed. He seemed to misinterpret your confusion. "I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were-"

"I wasn't prisoner." You spat, almost offended.

"So you were simply afraid." The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something.

You glared at him. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Dr. Loomis lifted his head. "I've studied Michael for sixteen years," he said, "and I've never seen him so fascinated by another human being."

"Maybe you're just shitty at your job." You scoffed.

Were you not glaring daggers at the man, you would've missed the angry look you received back. "Perhaps." The doctor said. "But in good time, my theories will be proven." He stood from his desk, approaching the door and grabbing your arm. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I'll finally rid the world of that potent evil."

You wish you'd stayed home.

[beecass]

mizumono kicked my grandma in the ass exploded my kitchen ate my dog's food set my house on fire and then proceeded to eat my brain from the inside. honestly, how will looks at hannibal after seeing abigail is alive, that hannibal kept her alive, is... devastating. that man just found out that his plan to send the guy he's been bonding with in the most (((erotic and profound way for months to prison went sideways and is now close to going to jail as well, the feelings for hannibal take over and will hopes that he will leave and run... but hannibal is there waiting for him with their daughter alive as a surprise. when will looks at hannibal theres guilt and regret and hope and sadness and just pure heartbroken. i believe at that moment he was so confused, because why didn't he just accepted to run away with hannibal the other night? why didn't he just say yes? he wanted to. so why didn't he? when he looks at hannibal he has all these feelings in the reflex of his eyes but hannibal is too heartbroken to see it. they could've been a family...

[twisted-fucked-up-sunflower]

my thoughts on crime and punishment characters!!

Raskolnikov: he’s so babygirl, he’s just like me fr. Minus the killing people part and the ubermensch complex he has. I’d argue he’s schizotypal but that’s likely not true. So I headcanon him as such. (If it’s unclear, I am schizotypal myself)

Razumikhin: Undisputed best bisexual representation in literature, my GOAT, love him to death, XOXO. No further comments. Perfect character.

Dunia: [to Svidrigailov] GET A JOB. STAY AWAY FROM HER (I wrote this in the book pages where it was relevant). She’s as smart as Rodia from what I read, though she wasn’t developed a lot as a character I think? I still need to re-read the book later. She should’ve shot the revolver at the guy’s head. Probably didn’t want to end up like her brother, though. Unlikely she’d come out winning from killing a man with connections, as evil as he was.

Pulkeria: Didn’t really find her too interesting, but I think that’s because she wasn’t focused on a lot. Remarkably patient towards Rodia, it was infuriating when Rodia just fucked off and didn’t speak to them (Dunia and Pulkeria) for days. His ungrateful ass. I get this habit, though, since I have it myself. Sometimes people are upsetting to be around, for no reason, might I add.

Svidrigailov: Exceedingly, unabashedly, shamelessly despicable. Hate him with my heart. He seems like a parallel to Rodia, and the book seems to focus on this from Rodia’s own observations. Parallel not in a good way, I’ll clarify, but in a “What if he was completely evil” way. I’ve got 40 pages left to read in this book and I’d like it if within the next 20 he ****** himself. Irredeemable but really interesting at the psychological level. He’s insane, it seems. Or maybe also schizotypal. Either way words cannot describe how much I hate this man.

Porfiry: Not much to say here, he ate Raskolnikov up both times they talked though, gagged him 😭 #embarrassing

Lujin/Luzhin (not sure on how it’s spelt): He’s so laughable. Gets insulted once, subsequently sends word of how it hurt his feewings to get clocked at the psychological level by the brother of the woman he’s going to marry, at his historic age like FOH ☠️. And I was livid when he tried to incriminate Sonia/Sofya (I prefer Sonia tbh) like bro really tried that shit 😂😂😂. He got owned by Rodion every single time he tried to fight back it was so fucking funny. Pathetic ass man. Glad he called off the marriage. Asshole.

Sonia: She’s Rodion’s love interest, it seems. I don’t get why she’s going to go to Siberia with him, though. Her family’s taken care of (by SVIDRIGAILOV of all people) and she hasn’t committed any crimes. Is it just something to do with misogyny or something related to it? She told Rodia to confess to his crime to atone, but in a *catholic* way. It’s crazy she got burdened with the knowledge of Rodia’s crimes and still said “Oh how you suffer! Atone for your sin willingly, it’s your only way to get rid of the guilt!” Her abnegate character showed a bit here, methinks. Still, why the fuck would she go to Siberia? Just because she *loves* Rodia? They both seem like they fell in love with each other for some odd reason, or maybe none at all so yeah. She’s also a favorite because of the way they describe her, the blue eyes seem like something I’d like to draw, when I get to it. Though, it’s curious that it’s Svidrigailov in love with Dunia and Raskolnikov in love with Sonia. Dunia and Sonia get stuck with the two murderous morons. (Well, not Dunia, because she managed to get Svidrigailov to not assault her. Again, DESPICABLE man, that one. Hope he dies :D) 

 Anastasia/Anastasya: I love her so much, I wish we’d gotten to see her interact with Razumikhin more because their dynamic was funny to me. She also laughed with a snort if I recall and that is so real of her. She also helped Rodia with food, basically kept his stupid ass alive for free before Razumikhin came back.

Zamiotov: Not much to say about him, really. Funny when Rodia explained in detail how he ‘would have’ gone about murdering Alyona, though. Fucking hilarious to read that shit. Most obvious criminal of all time.

Marmeladov: God knows how many pages he went on telling Rodia his entire life story. Perfect character. No notes.

Catarina/Sonia’s mother: Very tragic. Her death made me feel sad. But the parts before that when she was just DRAGGING Amelia Lippewechsel, she was so real for that.

I think I might be missing a few characters. No worries! I won’t update this lol. I hope those who read, if any do, find this funny.